Page 30 of Electricity

I didn’t want to leave Lacey alone during lunch, but right before and right after lunch was when most people had their phones out. I found myself in a juncture between halls, festooned with crepe paper, half talking up prom, the rest declaring how Bison Baseball was going to be Victorious!

My dress doesn’t fit anymore?—

I got this eyeshadow?—

do I have to buy her flowers?

—want to split a limo?

—if she doesn’t put out at the end of the?—

And then someone tapped my shoulder. I turned, expecting one of the coaches who doubled as traffic cops but found Darius, and was surprised by how relieved I felt to see him.

“You were doing it just then, weren’t you?”

I opened my mouth to say I wasn’t, but before I could he said, “Don’t lie.”

“I was. Guilty as charged.” I put a hand to my head to try and rub away my oncoming headache. Snooping came with a price.

“Guilty? Of what—of being awesome?” Awesome was not a word that I heard very often in conjunction with my name. I liked hearing him say it. “Hey, those marks on your back—they’re called Lichtenberg figures. I found them on the internet.”

“Yeah, me too. And a lot of other strange stuff.”

“Pictures of Storm, my old childhood superhero crush?”

“Precisely,” I said and tried to stop from stupidly smiling. He’d been researching things, on my behalf, about me, because he wanted to. WhatcouldIsaynexttokeepourconversationgoing? “Who’s your new superhero crush?” I blurted out.

“Uh—” he said for too long, eyes searching the lockers behind me for answers. “I’m too old for that now.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course,” I said, feeling stupid for asking.

“Anyways,” he went on, all business, “sounds like your marks’ll fade in a few days—so you should get them tattooed on fast or something.”

“If I had any money, and if my mom wouldn’t murder me, sure.”

“So, just then,” he said, waving his hand around us. “What’d you hear? If that’s the right word?”

“All sorts of stuff.”

“Anything good?”

“Not yet.” Not for the values of good I was going for. “Just same old, same old.”

“Oh well. What time did you want to come over tonight?”

I had completely forgotten our plans. And now that I had more pressing matters with Liam— “I’m sorry, Darius. My mom won’t let me. I meant to tell you.”

“Oh,” he said.

“But tomorrow? Maybe?”

“Yeah—it’s not like we have a job to go to yet. What time?”

“Ten?” My mother would still be asleep then, making leaving a whole hell of a lot easier.

“Perfect. I’ll come by and get you.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Then the bell dinged and I needed to get to lunch.

Lacey’d already gone through line and was sitting in our corner.

She was on our bench with her back was to the wall so she could keep a wary eye out on all our classmates—which, oddly, included Sarah, slumming it in our indoor courtyard instead of out on the fields with Ryan.

She was twenty steps ahead of me, and by the time I’d caught up they were already talking.

“I mean I know it’s not your fault,” Sarah was saying. “If you’re not in adult situations, you just don’t pick up that skill, you know?”

“Yeah, totally,” Lacey agreed, hovering perfectly on the edge of sarcastically sincere.

The contrast between them could not have been more stark.

Lacey looked homeless-slash-goth—as goth as anyone with her limited closet could be, wearing some black and layers of bulk with a general air of malaise, whereas Sarah was wearing a Redson maroon shirt proclaiming Bison Pride!

for the game tonight, dark jeans you’d have to use a can opener to peel her out of and outrageously cute matching maroon kitten heels.

“Hey guys,” I announced myself, hoping to take some pressure off in either direction. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going wonderfully. Lacey apologized for getting in over her head, and I graciously explained that it could happen to anyone.” Sarah wrapped her arm around me and announced, “The air is clear.”

I wasn’t getting that from the look on Lacey’s face, or the possessive way Sarah was clinging to me to imply me backing up her side of things right now, so I said the only safe thing I could think of: “Great!”

“Now, about you and Danny,” Sarah began, and Lacey’s eyes narrowed. “I just wish if you needed love life advice that you would ask me, first.”

“We’re not a thing,” Lacey said, sudden as a snakebite, allowing no further conversation.

Sarah stepped back from me and I could tell she knew she was in the wrong somehow.

It was a deeply uncomfortable place for her to be—she didn’t have as much practice as Lacey and I had at it.

“It’s just—I just—I miss this. I miss us,” she said, looking between us for confirmation that we missed her, too.

“I do too,” I said. Because back when it was the three of us against the world, it’d seemed like we’d had better odds, honestly.

Lacey looked up at me and half-shrugged. “Me three,” she said flatly.

“Well—good!” Sarah clapped her hands in delight. “Then we need to plan a time to hang out. This weekend? But not Friday—or, Saturday—uh—Sunday?”

“Sure,” Lacey said, with the same monotone.

“See you then,” I said, excited enough for the both of us so that Sarah could go.

“We’ll figure something out. I can’t wait!” She beamed at the both of us, then departed fabulously stage right. Exeunt.

I grit my teeth. “What’d I miss?”

“She started off by telling me I should ‘Practice drinking at home, like everybody else does.’” Lacey mimicked, with air-quotes. “‘Till you know where your limits are.’”

“Oh God. That’s terrible advice.”

“I know.” Lacey slumped back against the wall behind her.

“But,” I said, inhaling to dive in. “She means well. She’s just trying to be your friend still.”

“I know that, too. It’s just—all of this.” Lacey held both hands up, indicating the current wreckage of her life.

“Yeah. It’s hard.” Maybe even insurmountable, if nothing gave soon.

I watched her stare off into middle distance as I sat down. “Like—why would he do something like that?” she asked, mostly to herself.

Stuff her locker with those pictures before school this morning? We both knew the answer. It was the same reason he’d raped her.

Because he could.

“You just—” I said and saw her eyes widen alarmingly. Without finishing my sentence I turned around—and saw Bruce, the fourth or fifth teammate down on the team’s totem pole, depending on who you asked, holding imaginary hips and miming sex with them. While looking directly at Lacey.

“Come here. Now,” I demanded, and pulled her off the bench to sit beside me. Hooray, we were safer, now that we were both staring at the wall.

“What am I going to do? When will it stop?”

“Prom. For sure.” Every other prom someone had done something utterly dumb—one year someone’s hair caught on fire smoking joints in the bathroom, another year there was a drunken brawl on the dance floor—and every year there were multiple DUIs.

Was it wrong of me that I was hoping that this year there’d be a fatality?

Nothing would distract the school and get the gossip train to move along like a sudden death.

We’d be wallowing in tears and flowers for weeks.

I’d even be willing to nominate the victims.

“Is it going to keep being like this until then, though? Every day?”

“I don’t know.”

She picked the crust off of her hamburger bun. “I just keep beating myself up. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. I shouldn’t have been alone with him.”

“And he shouldn’t have done what he did.”

“I know, I know. It's just—Jessie, my whole life I’ve been dancing the dance, you know? Trying to get everything right. And then this one little time I missed a step, and now everything’s fucked.”

“I know.”

Sometimes being a girl felt like there was a code to crack—like there was one perfect way to be, and if you could only figure out what that was, your life would be so easy.

If you were skinnier, or dressed differently, or acted more fun, or listened to the right music, or had the right friends, or your parents were rich, or you were smarter, or more athletic, or or or or?—

But the only real rule seemed to be that you couldn’t be perfect enough, no matter how hard you tried.

“It’s not fair, Lacey. It’s just not. But we can muddle through till prom.”

She looked at her burger then looked at me. “Yeah,” she said, and took a bite.

After lunch we went our separate ways—and then chemistry loomed.

I hadn’t told Lacey about Liam’s party invite, I didn’t want her to worry about me, and luckily Sarah hadn’t mentioned it.

But now that I had to go—I could feel myself getting nervous, flushed and sweaty.

What if I’d missed my chance by turning him down yesterday?

Before Hailey had moved, she’d been the prettiest girl in school.

Like I’d wanted to hate her? But it was literally impossible, she was just that pretty.

And me—what the hell was Liam thinking? What if he came to his senses?

How would I get to Danny’s phone then? I spent most of English staring off into space thinking of disaster scenarios—which did not make me any more attractive—when a text from Lacey flew in.

Can’t take it anymore. Going home.

It startled me back to my senses; I texted back with just my mind:

You OK?

Not really

People keep looking at me.

I winced. Were they really looking at her, or did it just feel like that? She wasn’t acting very Lacey-like—that could have people genuinely concerned. Maybe she was being a little sensitive. She had every right to be.

Or maybe some of our jerkier classmates were judging her for looking disheveled—and still jerkier ones were, like Bruce, thinking about whatever story Danny’d spread.

At least no one else had seen the photos from this morning.

Had…they?

Panic fell from my brain to my stomach like a small sharp stone.

Sorry about the bus

Lacey apologized while I tried to keep from freaking out on her behalf.

No—it is totally OK.

Take care of yourself.

I love you

I texted back at the speed of thought. Then the bell rang and I instantly texted Sarah a bathroom location and 911 .

Sarah arrived moments after I did and looked around quickly, like Liam might be hidden in a stall.

“I’ve got chem next and I need to go to that party,” I said and gestured at my face. “Help.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command.

Her eyes lit up. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?” She lunged into her purse and pulled out a make-up bag.

Within seconds she was smudging subtly shimmering taupes across my eyes. “I don’t have much time,” she muttered, as she poofed blush on me, slicked my lips with gloss, and then licked her thumb like a mom to use it to straighten my brows. “There. It’s not great?—”

“But it looks like I tried.” I looked in the mirror. I thought Liam would be a man of his word, but if he wasn’t, I wanted to make sure he had a reason to invite me.

“I expect you to put more on tonight, missy,” Sarah said, zippering her bag back up. “And I’ll be there.”

“With Ryan,” I said, my tone implying the closet they’d be making out in.

She grabbed my shoulders. “With Ryan, yes, but, still, I will be there. I haven’t forgotten about you. Promise.”

“Good.”

The warning bell rang. “See you, babe!” she said, and airkissed me before running out the door. When she was gone, I tugged my shirt a little lower so that more cleavage was showing, and stalked down to the science hall.

Ms. Goodman passed out yesterday’s quizzes as we walked in. I had missed five points on the last question. I was in my chair frowning at it, when Liam walked up and flashed me his 100%. “Maybe I should tutor you.”

“Ha. Ha,” I said, forgetting to sound nicer.

He laughed, and went back to his desk.

It was hard not to fidget for the rest of the hour.

I needed to seem nonchalant, like getting an invite to a party at his house would mean absolutely nothing to me.

But the longer Ms. Goodman lectured, the more everything wore on my soul—the photos this morning, the texts I’d only caught snippets of yesterday, how impossible everything was seeming, and how I had to keep trying, for Lacey’s sake.

At the end of the class I stood up and made sure to block Liam’s path and tried to look adorable. “Hey—about that invite—can I change my mind?”

His eyebrows rose, but his head bobbed. “Yeah, of course.”

“What time?”

“Whenever the game is over.”

“Uh, when is that?”

“Uh, when it’s over,” he laughed, making fun of me. “I don’t know. Most people go to the game first.”

I pouted. A little. It was hard. “I don’t want to participate in your barbaric sports rituals to get to go to a party. Plus, I might have to babysit my sister.”

“I’ll shoot you a text when we’re leaving. Okay?”

“Awesome. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and angled around me and out the door.