Read Online Watch Me Disappear by Diane Vanaskie Mulligan - Free Book Online Page A

profile. I desperately want to hear him talk—I want some confirmation that what Wes said is true. I imagine he has the tell-tale Massachusetts accent—that would make sense with his appearance. I am curious about his friends, too. I mean, smart kids don’t hang around with really stupid ones, so they must be smart, too, right? There’s nothing like coming face to face with someone who challenges half a dozen stereotypes that you hold dear. I wish I were the sort of girl who could walk over to three strange guys and say hello, but I’m not. I consider moving closer to get a better look, and then I see something that deters me: Maura.
    She is teetering down the center aisle between the picnic tables and there is no place for me to hide. I probably should have expected to see her—I knew she was planning to attend—but once I made plans with Missy I dismissed any thought of Maura from my mind. And now here she is, slightly wavering as she walks in my direction. I watch as one of Hunter’s pals motions with his head toward Maura, says something to Hunter, and then laughs. Maura gives them a little wave, stumbling as she does. It takes me that long to realize she must be roaring drunk.
    For a moment I think I am safe. I think that perhaps in her drunken haze she will not recognize me. I am wrong.
    “Lizzie! Is that Lizzie?” she shouts, vaguely pointing in my direction.
    Hunter and his friends turn to see who she’s pointing at. I am frozen on the spot.
    “Little Lizzie two shoes,” Maura slurs, walking up to me. “Too good to come to the concert with Maura, but not too good to come all alone.”
    I guess Maura is not a happy drunk.
    “Lizzie,” she says again, poking my shoulder with a pointy fingernail. “A lot of nerve you’ve got.” She sways and hiccups.
    Maura is attracting attention, and I can feel my face turning red. I cannot think of a single thing to say that will defuse the situation because I cannot imagine what she is thinking or what she might do next.
    “I warned you. Remember?” she says. Then she burps in a most unladylike way, and I can see her face turn green.
    “Maura,” I say, taking a step back.
    “No, you listen to me!” she shouts, her voice shrill. She stumbles toward me and suddenly she is doubled over puking at my feet.
    The sight, the sound, the smell—it’s everything I can do not to puke in response. There is vomit on the tips of my toes and I feel sweat trickling down my back. A lot of people are looking now, and laughing. I want to run away and rub my feet in the wet grass, but I can’t move. I glance up and for a moment make eye contact with Hunter. He isn’t laughing. If anything, the look he gives me says, “Sorry.” I adore him.
    “Lizzie?” a voice says at my ear. It’s Missy. She tugs my elbow. “Come on!”
    I take a step in her direction.
    “Not so fast, girls,” someone says. We both look past Maura to see a police officer behind her.
    “We aren’t with her,” Missy says.
    By this point Maura has stopped puking but has dissolved into a drunken puddle sobbing on the ground next to a pool of vomit.
    “Is that so?”
    None of Maura’s friends have come forward to claim her, although pretty much everyone except the band on stage is now watching the spectacle unfold.
    “She’s my neighbor,” I say softly. This is everything I dread in life: standing in the spotlight, looking like a fool.
    “We didn’t come here together,” Missy adds. “Our friends are over there,” she says pointing.
    “Officer?” a boy’s voice says.
    We all turn to see one of the guys who’d been standing with Hunter. He has the smug look of a kid who is used to charming his way through life.
    “They’re telling the truth,” he says. “She’s not with them, but she’s my friend. I can take her home or call her parents.”
    The police officer looks at me and Missy, then down at Maura, and then the boy. After a moment, he nods. “You girls get out of here,” he