Mean Girls: New Girl / Confessions of an Angry Girl / Here Lies Bridget / Speechless

But then … he didn’t seem to be having that much trouble moving on. He didn’t seem overly troubled. He wasn’t pouting or weeping in dark corners. Then again, he really didn’t seem the type who would, even if his heart was broken. Also … it’s not like he wanted to be with me like he’d been with her.

What surprised me was where my mind spent most of its time. I didn’t spend all of my time feeling embarrassed or put upon because everyone talked about me. I didn’t wonder so much about where Becca was or when and if she’d return. All I could do was think of Max, and our seven minutes.

The rumors about us had begun to circulate, too. Questions of whether or not we were together and what we had done in that supply closet were on everyone’s minds. Meanwhile, they still bandied around the idea that Johnny and I were hooking up on the side. It was a complicated web of rumors, and I couldn’t figure out why anyone cared.

Max and I didn’t discuss what had happened, or what everyone thought of us. We talked in class and acknowledged each other in the hallways. But that was about it, until early December. I was in the painting studio, finishing up a still life that I hated, when Max walked in.

I paused my computer at a Zero 7 chorus and said, “Hey.”

“Hey. You doing the still life, too?”

“Yeah, this one’s pretty hard. I thought it’d be easier, but it’s just not.”

We had to paint a still life lit by candles instead of by angled lighting. It made the contrasts stronger, but the tones had to be just right.

Max looked at my painting. “Pfft.”

“What?”

He pointed at it. “I don’t think you have any room to say that this is hard for you.”

I laughed, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry that everyone is talking about—” he pointed vaguely between himself and me “—you know.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Are you—is it bothering you?”

He shook his head. “No.”

A shiver went down my body, and suddenly I wasn’t as tired as I had been.

“So, really, you’re doing all right? Everyone talking isn’t driving you crazy?”

“It’s okay, really. It’s only another six months, anyway, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s not that long. I don’t know why … I don’t know why I’m so worried about you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I want you to be okay. And it … really pisses me off whenever I hear anyone talking about you or comparing you to her.”

That feeling snuck up my spine again. The one that made me feel inferior to Her.

He went on. “I don’t think it’s fair that they do that. There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong with you being here or … or anything.”

I took a breath. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think she’s coming back.”

I wanted to ask him if it was because he thought she was dead. But instead I just asked, “Why not?”

“I just don’t. I don’t want anything to have happened to her. We got into a fight that night, so everyone thinks I—” He had been staring at a place on the floor, but now he looked at me. “You know … I didn’t do anything to her, right?”

“Right. Of course.” I didn’t know why I believed him, but I did. Maybe that made me the dumb girl in the horror movie who willingly takes the hand of her killer, but I did.

“And I don’t consider myself to be her ‘property.’”

“I should hope not.” I looked at the floor and then summoned some courage. “But if you don’t, then why do you suddenly care so much about not letting anyone know we’ve been hooking up? Sometimes you’re all willy-nilly with it, and then you get paranoid. I don’t get it. You don’t seem like the type of guy who concerns himself too much with how other people see him.”

“I can’t just be with you. I can’t just get with the next girl that comes along after my girlfriend dies.”

I raised my eyebrows. “The next girl who comes along?”

“I didn’t—”

“No, you know what? I’m sorry, but I can’t keep being this anonymous replacement for her. Because I’m not. I’m just not.”

“I don’t think you’re a replacement for her. It’s just difficult. Everyone either thinks she’s lurking around a corner waiting to come back, or they think she’s off having my kid, or they think she’s dead and that maybe I killed her.” His voice had gotten louder. “It’s kind of hard to just be with you now. Not to mention the fact that she kind of ruined my desire to be with anyone right now. I’m sorry. It’s just not going to happen.”

In the pit of my chest, something had been growing stronger and stronger. And the more time that passed at Manderley Academy, the more it reared its head and breathed hot fire. It ran through me, keeping me from feeling sad and lonely—which could have easily happened—and instead drove me to get quietly more and more sure of myself.

After my conversation with Max, I packed up my oil paints and left. My painting was fine. It was just me who was nitpicking at the details in it. I walked up to Blake’s room.

“Let’s start drinking.”

These were the first words out of my mouth when I saw her. I hadn’t been sure about going to the last party of the semester, but now I definitely was going. She laughed at first in surprise, but then narrowed her eyes and asked if I was okay.

“I’m great, I just want to have fun. Let’s go do our makeup!”

Blake grabbed two Gatorades and a water bottle full of clear whatever, and we went into my room. Dana sat on her bed, filling the air with gloom.

“Want a shot?” I asked her. Blake smiled when Dana glared at me. I rolled my eyes and walked into the bathroom. We set up my laptop and turned on iTunes. I had no new music of course, since I was not allowed to connect to the internet.

This place was practically primitive.

We each downed the liquor in the water bottle, and half an hour later we were dizzy and laughing hysterically about I-don’t-even-know-what.

“Oh, my God, that’s hilarious,” said Blake, who was sitting in the empty tub. “So tell me. Did you guys ever … you know….”

I bit my lower lip and took another swig. I nodded.

“No way, really? How was he? I know Becca said he had a big—”

We both started laughing again. I noticed that the door to my bedroom was not completely closed, so I crawled over and shut it.

“Yeah, it’s definitely, um … fun. He’s good. You know. Awesome.”

Blake snorted and then knocked the soap into her lap. She put it back, still laughing. The door in my room slammed shut, shaking the door in the bathroom. We ignored it.

“Well, what exactly happened tonight?”

I told her that Max and I had talked and he’d been a dick, and gave me a speech about how it was never going to happen.

“I don’t even know where it came from, really. We were talking … she came up … and then all of a sudden he was telling me he couldn’t give me what he gave her.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s weird. He acts way different around you than he ever did around her. Like … he seeks you out. He wants to talk to you. He laughs around you. I swear I’m not sure I ever saw him smile before this year.”

I shrugged. “Maybe he goes for that whole painful relationship thing. Maybe it’s some kind of masochistic thing.”

She sneered, and handed me the bottle. “Way less hot than hair-pulling.”

We laughed again, and then both squealed when our newly decided favorite song came on.

Blake glanced at her watch. “It’s almost eleven, let’s start getting ready.”

Everyone was in good spirits tonight. Including me. Even the dreaded, freezing walk down to the boathouse was okay. Blake and I kept making too much noise and shushing each other and ourselves—so there was little time to worry about the chilly air.

The music inside the boathouse was loud, and everyone was laughing and flirting. Maybe it had always been this way, and I’d just been too self-conscious and worried about everything that I hadn’t enjoyed it. Whatever it was about that night, I ended up being bolder than I’d ever been.

“You know what we should do?” I shouted across the beer pong table. “We should—Wait, Blake,” I whispered in her ear.

She nodded and then laughed.

“Okay,” I continued, “we should play strip beer pong.” I smiled and bit my bottom lip.

Our opponents, Cam and Johnny, laughed and said that that sounded like a fantastic idea. Johnny had apologized to me earlier in the night, and in my current mood, it had been no problem. The dragon in my chest just seethed a little flame, and then relaxed, waiting for the right time to really explode.

“So every time we make one, you have to take something off,” said Blake.

Johnny smiled. “And vice versa.”

“Well, that’s just not going to matter, because we’re not going to give you a chance.”

“Oh-ho!” Cam exclaimed. “It’s our shot first.” He threw it and made it in the middle cup. The crowd around us, which had grown considerably since Blake’s and my announcement, whooped.

Dana, who looked constantly on the verge of exploding herself, was sitting straight up in a chair against the wall and staring at Johnny.

Whatever.

Johnny missed. I made mine. Blake made hers. We got the balls back. However long later, however, Blake and I were both in our bras. I could kind of see how easy it would be to rope in these people and herd them like cattle. I get too drunk, I act fun and a little slutty—and suddenly their hearts are mine. No one was talking about Becca.

I was about to take my shot when the boathouse door opened. I’d almost known it’d be him.

The music kept pounding, but the chatter died for a few seconds when he came in. I shot the ball and made it. Johnny sighed and took off his shirt. I didn’t want to, but I glanced at his body as he did so. It was a good body. So I guess I wanted to.

I averted my eyes, and unfortunately locked eyes with Dana. She stood and walked over to me, pushed Blake out of the way, and then slapped me hard across the face.

My chest burned. The room was silent but for the music.

Max and Johnny were on her like bouncers, each taking an arm. But still no one spoke.

“I think you know what that’s for.” Her words were icy and sharp.

“I—I …” My cowardice was back.

“You need me to clarify?” She squirmed in the clutches of her restrainers. “How about you stop fucking him?”

Everyone was looking at me. Waiting for me to confirm or deny with words or with a reaction. I let my face be blank. I would be strong. I had to be. I wasn’t going to slap her back. But I had to do something.

“Stop fucking him?” I took a step toward her, feeling the dragon in my chest open its jaws. “Maybe when I’m dead.”

I didn’t look anyone in the eyes but her. Hers widened and then narrowed.

I grabbed my shirt and walked out. Blake followed me, and we walked to our rooms in silence.

It was snowing. The small snowflakes were accumulating on the ground, creating a soft, delicate blanket. It was the first time I’d seen snow. It seemed appropriate that I should see it now.

For I had never felt colder.

chapter 19 me

IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE, AND I’D ALREADY GOTTEN my first present: I could take off my sweatshirt and squint in the sunlight. I was standing at the arrivals loop at Jacksonville International Airport. Any moment now, my dad would be rounding into sight in my mom’s robin’s-egg-blue convertible, and I could feel like I was at home again. I could try to forget everything that had happened at Manderley, and pretend—like I had to—that everything was great.

My bag was weighing on my shoulder, the guy next to me was blowing cigarette smoke so directly in my face that it felt intentional, and it still was a little too cold to be in only jeans and a tank top, but I didn’t care. I didn’t notice any of that. All I could do was snap my gum anxiously, until I finally saw the car.

There was Dad, and there was Jasper.

A grin stretched across my face as I pulled open the door. “Hi!” I waved to my dad. “Oh, Jasper!” He jumped on me, his tail wagging so hard it shook the rest of his body.

I threw my bag and Jasper into the backseat and took a deep breath as I put on my seat belt. I was still smiling like a fool.

“Hey, honey,” my dad said, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi! Oh, my God, I’m so happy to be home.”

“How do you like it? You glad you went up there?”

I nodded and considered how I was going to make it seem like I was in any way glad I’d left Florida for New Hampshire. But before I had to decide how to do that, Dad started to drive and then had to slam on the brakes as someone nearly lurched into us.

“Come on!” My dad laid on the horn. “Sorry, honey. Right. Well, I’m glad you like it up there. You wish you’d done all four years there?”

“Nah.”

“And you’re here for what, a week?”

“I have to go back January second.”

“That’s all they give ya? Doesn’t feel like long enough.”

“I know.”

I was soon distracted from the conversation as we drove over the familiar bridge and I could feel the crispy, almost wet breeze on my face. I leaned back and closed my eyes. The sun was hot on my eyelids, but the wind whipping around the convertible was cold. I’d never been more comfortable.

My dad turned up the Eagles on the radio, and Jasper panted in the seat behind me, possibly the only one who understood how incredibly refreshing this car ride was.

An hour later I was sitting at the counter eating my mom’s steaming hot popovers, smeared with butter and raspberry jelly, and sacrificing little bits to Jasper at my feet.

“So tell me all about it,” my mother said as she leaned on the counter across from me, some flour in her hair. She’d been baking all afternoon, which was clear from the dining room filled with every type of Christmas cookie and four loaves of bread.

I shuddered. I couldn’t tell my mom anything.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, I already know they aren’t feeding you enough.” She looked at my arms and gave them a squeeze. “Look at that, no healthy fat on your little bones. You’re too skinny, mon petite chou!”

“The food is just kind of … prisonlike. It’s not a big deal, I still eat.”

“Uh-huh.” She moved a piece of hair from her eye, putting more flour in it. “I’ll send you care packages. I hadn’t thought of it—I’d assumed the food would be five-star!”

Ha. “Not quite.”

“Okay, so what about your friends? Do you like any boys? You would tell me if you had a boyfriend, no?”

I felt myself blush, and I wished I hadn’t. It wasn’t the normal, coy kind of blushing. My face was hot because I was filled with guilt and resentment. Max and I hadn’t spoken at all since I said … what I said to Dana … and everyone else within earshot.

“Ooh!” she shrilled. “Tell me!”

“I kind of … there’s a guy I’m sort of talking to …”

“What’s his name?”

“Max Holloway.”

“What’s he look like—do you have any pictures?”

I didn’t want to show her his Facebook. It was riddled with pictures of Her. That she’d tagged. In her albums.

“No, I don’t. But he’s really, really cute. You’d like him. He’s the type of guy you always say are a-dor-ah-bleh.” I imitated her accent.

“He is dark-haired? Is he tall?”

I smiled. “Yes, he is. Light blue eyes. His hair comes down about to his eyebrows, and he’s got a really straight nose.” I was caught in a stare and came to, only to find my mother looking smugly at me.

“You like him a lot. I can tell.”

“I mean … it’s complicated.”

“Why isn’t he your boyfriend? He likes you, surely.” She looked as though she was ready to turn on him.

“He has a girlfriend.”

It was the easiest answer that had any truth to it. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to tell her about Becca. Maybe the reason was that I would never get sympathy from an outsider for being jealous of a girl who had gone missing. But my mom nodded in understanding and turned around to pull out yet another baking sheet. I slipped another bite to Jasper. A second later, I heard the front door open, and looked up to see my best friend.

“Leah!” I screeched as she walked into the kitchen. I practically leaped on her as if we’d been separated by a century instead of only a few hundred miles.

She squeezed me back. “I’m so happy to see you! Michael came, too, he’s outside talking to his mom.”

Small drop in my stomach.

“Michael?”

“Yeah … we’re back together.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?” My smile ebbed a little. “But you texted me like a week ago and said—”

“We’re working through it. Plus he’s the best kisser ever.”

My little sister screamed with delight.

“Oh, sorry,” Leah said to my mother, and slapped her hand over her mouth.

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” my mom said, and smiled down at the onion she was chopping.

I loved that we were getting ready for dinner and the sun still hadn’t set. It was really, really good to be home. But something was different. It was still my house, but suddenly I felt like a guest. A welcome guest, for sure, but definitely a guest.

The house was the same, something that thrilled me and simultaneously seemed inexplicably strange. I’d only been gone a few months, but it felt weird that everything had just carried on without me. My house was my memory, something I’d always be able to conjure up, even when I was ancient and couldn’t recognize the back of my hand. But when I wasn’t there, it still existed. The doors still slapped and thudded open and shut, flies were still smacked on the outside porch, the fridge still emptied and filled, and my bed was never surprised that I didn’t come back.

All without my mind and me holding it together.

Michael, who had a mop of curly brown hair and teeth that looked almost too straight, walked into my kitchen and greeted my parents, and then smiled at me.

“‘Ey, girl!” He wrapped his arms around me and shook me. “I’ve missed you!”

“Michael!” I feigned excitement. Michael and I had never really gotten along. That’s what happens when you make my best friend cry hundreds of times. It really irritated me that she’d brought him to my house on Christmas Eve. But if she hadn’t, I felt kind of certain she would have just not come. I always tried to rationalize this trait of hers.

Whatever it was that had changed in me lately had no patience for it.

He put his arm around her, and she held his hand. Leah cooed as he kissed her on the tip of the nose.

Yuck.

“Hey, so you’re at Manderley Academy, right?” Michael said, adjusting his attention to me.

“Yeah, it’s in—”

“I know where it is,” he interrupted in that … way of his. “Didn’t some girl go missing from there?”

I felt shaken as my two worlds collided. My mom turned. “Missing? What happened? Did you know her?” She looked at me.

“N-no.”

“Yeah, she was hot in those missing photos, too. If she had a boyfriend, I bet he’s pissed he didn’t hang on to her.”

Leah thudded him in the chest. “Mikey, shut up. She’s missing, it seems wrong to talk about her like that.”

“Hang on to her?” I repeated his words. “She’s missing, she’s not flitting around the world with some other guy.”

I couldn’t believe I was defending her. But somehow, she felt like mine to think bad things about. Certainly not Michael’s.

“Whatever, I’m just saying she’s hot. She’s been missing since the end of last year. I read it online somewhere. She’s probably dead.”

“Oh, my God,” Leah said, ignoring Michael’s more ominous prediction, “that’s just so incredibly General Hospital.”

“She’s got some friend, Diana or something—”

“Dana,” I corrected, automatically.

“Yeah, Dana—she was hot, too—said that she didn’t know where the girl was but she was sure she was still out there. She’s all over interviews online.”

I felt light-headed. It was too strange to hear my best friend’s annoying douche of a boyfriend talking about Becca and Dana.

“That’s so weird. Is everyone freaking out at your school, then?” Leah’s eyes were wide.

I nodded. “Yeah, everyone’s really worried.”

“That’s just awful. That poor girl.” My mom clucked her tongue and started moving the cookies from the tray to a cooling rack. “I hope they find her. Her poor friends, they must be so worried! Oh, and if she did have a boyfriend … that must be just the worst kind of worry—Oh! The corn bread! I’d nearly forgotten it.”

I wanted to press the reset button, and make it so Michael had never come. It would have made things infinitely better for a thousand reasons, but right now his little bit of online stalker info was making me feel nauseous.

“Look!” Lily ran over to me and presented me with the drawing she’d had her nose to for at least ten minutes.

I crouched down to her level, thankful for a change in subject. “What have we got here?”

It was the most tactful way of asking an easily offended child like Lily what on earth she’d been trying to depict with the four free crayons she’d smuggled out of Harry’s Restaurant and Pub.

“Jasper,” she said, pointing to the thickly drawn figure that took up a third of the page. He looked like a horse. “And that’s me.” She pointed to a squat little girl with a crown on her head. “That’s the house, and that’s Mommy and Daddy.”

“Where am I?”

She stretched her mouth out to either side and looked guilty. “Um …” She ran into the other room with a red crayon, and came back a moment later with a stick figure drawn in on the backside of the sheet. “You were just here on the other side. Because you’re not here anymore.”

Ouch.

I smiled, feeling as separated from my old life as the little crayon me, and put an arm around her. “That is an excellent drawing. It should definitely go on the fridge.”

I pinned it up with a magnet and all the other drawings.

An hour and a half later we had finished eating my mom’s best Christmas Eve food (chili, corn bread and—less happily—green beans) and were watching It’s a Wonderful Life. We watched it every year. Even Lily could be heard whispering some of the lines to herself in her small falsetto voice as she played with toys by the Christmas tree.

The sun had finally set, and there was a slight chill wrapping the blanket around my feet. Jasper was curled up next to me, breathing quietly. Michael and Leah were sitting next to me on the sectional sofa, holding hands and whispering things to each other too often and stifling giggles. My parents were in their respective chairs. My dad was falling asleep, as he almost always did during movies, and my mom was sipping on her warm—and spiked—apple cider.

I thought about Michael and Leah. Just about anyone who didn’t know the intricacies of their roller-coaster romance might look at them now and think they were in love. Maybe that’s what it had been for Becca and Max. Maybe they weren’t as in love as everyone thought they were. Maybe they weren’t blissful and bound for a lifetime of happiness. Maybe everyone had been wrong. The thought lifted my heavy heart for a second before it fell again.

Because what if I was wrong? Maybe Michael and Leah were what love was. They always came back to each other, no matter how bad they were for one another. They chose to forget the wrongs of before and stay together. It was their choice. There must be some reason they got back together and stayed with each other through thick and thin.

Was that love, or were they just emotionally destroying each other? My phone buzzed on the cushion under me. It was a text from Max.

Watching It’s a Wonderful Life … you said you watch that every Christmas, too, right?

I clicked off my phone’s screen, feeling an unexpected urge to cry. It was stupid, and I knew it. But suddenly I felt the weight of realizing that no one had ever felt that way about me. No one had ever not been able to stay away from me. Whether Michael and Leah were true love personified or not, they always came back to each other. And even if Max hadn’t loved Becca like everyone said, then it made no difference. Something had kept him magnetized to her. Something, it was to be assumed, other than her beauty and charm.