“What’s the point, though?” Mrs. Twill asks, all suspicious again. Wow. I guess it takes a constant stream of compliments to really distract her.
“The point is,” I say, “that I brought Marissa here so that maybe she and Tyler could hang out. So that maybe he would get to know her, and that maybe they could start being friends.”
“Yeah,” Marissa says, nodding. “I really think that the basis of any strong relationship is a good friendship.”
I nod. “I mean, right now they don’t even talk,” I say. “In fact, Tyler doesn’t even know she exists.”
“A pretty girl like you?” Cal asks. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
Mrs. Twill doesn’t say anything, and I know she’s thinking that there’s no way Marissa is good enough for her son. Something tells me it wouldn’t matter if Taylor Swift was standing here; Mrs. Twill still wouldn’t think she was good enough for Tyler. It’s really amazing just how clueless parents are about their own kids. I mean, Mrs. Twill obviously has no idea just what a complete and total idiot Tyler is.
“It is true,” I say sadly. “Poor Marissa here hasn’t even talked to Tyler once in her whole life.” I put my arm around her and nudge her gently with my foot. In return, Marissa steps on mine. Hard. “Have you, Marissa?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“I haven’t,” she says.
“Which is why we don’t really want Tyler to know we were here,” I say. “Because if he knew Marissa was here, then he might want to know why she was here, and then he might ask me questions. Actually, knowing Tyler, he’d probably figure the whole thing out. About her secret crush, I mean. He is so, so smart.”
“Probably,” Mrs. Twill agrees. She slowly loosens her grip on the broom and then leans it back against the wall, which I think is a very good sign.
“Of course we wouldn’t even dream of telling Tyler,” Cal says. “But if Tyler knows what’s good for him, I’m sure he’d be happy to have you as his girl.”
“Thanks, Cal,” I say, beaming at him. “So I guess we’ll just be going then.”
I start maneuvering around the Twill family, and we all start heading up the stairs, Cal in the lead.
“Now, you girls are more than welcome here anytime,” he says.
“Mom, can I stay up and watch Terminator?” Edward’s asking. Aww, how cute. He wants to watch Terminator. I love that kid!
“No,” Mrs. Twill says. “You’re going right back to bed!” Geez. Way to kill a buzz.
The door at the top of the stairs leads down a hallway and to the front door, and when we get there, I turn the knob and step onto the porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief, and I take in a big breath.
“Good night,” I say, giving them a big wave. “Bye, Edward.”
“Bye,” Edward says, burying his face back in his mother’s dress. Aww! He’s shy around me because he thinks I’m so beautiful! Adorable, that little Edward. Too bad he has what seems to be some kind of inappropriate attachment to his mother. Hopefully he’ll grow out of that before she ruins him the way she’s obviously ruined Tyler.
“Bye,” Marissa says.
I start down the porch steps, turning around once to see the whole Twill family standing in the doorway, their faces silhouetted by the light from inside.
We start walking down the hilled driveway, faster and faster. And that’s when we see the flashing red lights of the police car, heading straight for us.
Chapter Nine
12:37 a.m.
The cop’s name is Officer Clayborn, and he takes us back into Tyler’s house, which really doesn’t make any sense, since you’d think they’d want us out of Tyler’s house, because, hello, we’re in trouble for supposedly breaking and entering.
But Mrs. Twill gets all nervous about talking outside, because she doesn’t want the neighbors to think there’s anything going on. The way she says it makes me think that the cops have been at her house before, probably for something stupid Tyler’s done, like last year when he and his friends went drag racing down on Route 128.
Anyway, apparently Cal called 911 from his phone before he came down to the basement and forgot to call them back and tell them never mind. Which, actually, probably wouldn’t have worked since I’m pretty sure once you call 911 you can’t really cancel it. It’s, like, not allowed or something.
“Look, officer, it’s just a misunderstanding,” Cal says when we’re all back inside, clustered around the Twills’ kitchen table. “They’re friends of my son’s, and he gave them permission to be here.”
“He gave them permission to break into your house?” Officer Clayborn asks. I know his name not because he told me, but because I can read his name badge. He’s one of those super-hard-ass types, the kind that think it’s their job to educate kids about how bad it is out there in the “real world.”
“Yes,” Marissa says, nodding. “It’s because I have a crush on him.” Oh, Jesus.
“He didn’t tell us to break in,” I say, giving Officer Clayborn my most dazzling smile. “He told us that we could get into his house through a window in his basement, and that we should wait for him there.” I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea what everyone’s so upset about.” I twirl a lock of hair around my finger and try to pretend I’m young and innocent. Which I am. Usually, anyway.
Officer Clayborn narrows his eyes. “Breaking and entering is a very serious offense, young lady,” he says. Wow. Guess he’s not going to be as easy to charm as my old pal Edward was. Edward, unfortunately, has been sent upstairs to bed. I guess they didn’t want him to see what went down when law enforcement had to get involved.
“Oh, I know that,” I say. “I know it’s serious. Which is why I would never do it.”
“They would never do it,” Cal repeats. “Now, if there’s nothing else you need, Officer Clayborn, I think it might be time to let these girls get on home.” Of course, we’re not really going home, but they definitely don’t need to know that.
“We do need to get home,” I say. “My parents are going to be worried.”
“Totally.” Marissa nods.
“I thought you said your parents were away for the weekend,” Mrs. Twill says, apparently having a freakishly good and annoying memory.
“Uh, they are,” I say. “But they like to call and check on me, you know, to make sure I’m doing okay.”
“It’s really cute,” Marissa says. “They want to make sure she’s all right, like, every second, since they know how nervous and fragile she is.”
Officer Clayborn looks at us with steely, mean eyes. But there’s nothing he can really do, even though I’m sure he’d love nothing more than to take us right down to the police station.
“You girls need a ride anywhere?” he asks.
“No, that’s fine,” Marissa says. “My car’s outside, so …” We’re moving toward the door now, and we’re almost out of there, we’re literally two steps away from getting onto the front porch, when it happens. Marissa’s completely high and totally inappropriate shoes slip on Tyler’s clearly just-waxed hallway, and she falls on her butt, her legs splaying every which way. And then a Ziploc bag of pot comes flying out from under her skirt and lands on the floor, right in front of Officer Clayborn.
Jeremiah gave it to her. Well, not really gave it to her. It was more like she stole it from him while they were hanging out, I guess to have something of his so he’d need to find her later. I think stealing a guy’s drugs is like the modern-day equivalent of leaving something at his house so that you have an excuse to call him.
Anyway, it was hard to get the details with Officer Clayborn and the Twills standing right there. I kept telling Marissa to keep quiet, since I didn’t want her to incriminate herself, but she kept blabbing away.
Finally, Officer Clayborn loaded her into the car and told her he was taking her down to the station. I felt completely horrible and kept insisting I should go with them, but for some reason, Officer Clayborn didn’t want to hear it. Also, Cal kept sayi
ng things like, “Eliza would never allow illegal drugs to be brought into our home. I’m positive she didn’t know about this, and there is no reason for her to get in trouble because of her friend’s mistake!”
So after Officer Clayborn made me promise to drive Marissa’s car back to her house for her, they left. Honestly, it’s probably the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, so I can’t even imagine what Marissa must be going through right now.
As soon as the police car is out of sight, I run back down the street to where Cooper is supposed to be waiting with Clarice.
“Did you get it?” Cooper asks from the driver’s seat when he sees me. He shuts the book he was reading and tosses it into the back, then steps out of the car.
“No!” I scream. “No, I did NOT get it, and if you want to know why, it’s because Tyler’s parents caught us and now Marissa has been TAKEN AWAY BY THE POLICE AND IS PROBABLY GOING TO GO TO JAIL FOR DRUG POSSESSION!!”
“What?!” Cooper screeches.
“Where the hell is Clarice?” I say. We need to get away from Cooper and try to figure out a way to get Marissa out of jail. If that’s even possible. I mean, I don’t know anything about getting someone out of jail. And of course, there’s the small problem of me having to post pictures of myself on Lanesboro Losers.
“Hey,” I say to Cooper. “How do you get someone out of jail?”
“Well, it depends on why they’re in jail,” he says. “But usually you have to bail them out.” Great. I’m totally broke. I have like maybe sixty bucks in my checking account.
“Where’s Clarice?” I repeat, looking around for her. And then for the first time, I realize that Marissa’s car is gone. It was parked right behind Cooper’s, and now it’s not there. And then I remember that Clarice had the keys. I turn to Cooper. “WHERE IS CLARICE?” I scream, all wild.
“She left,” Cooper says. He looks nervous, like he’s afraid I might start to freak out.
“She left?” I repeat incredulously. “What do you mean, ‘She left’?”
“She left,” he says. “I tried to make her stay, but she said to tell you she was sorry, but she had to go. Some emergency with her cousin Jamie needing a ride. She wanted to text you, but she was afraid your phone might go off while you were in Tyler’s house.”
“Unbelievable!” I say. I pull my cell out and punch in Clarice’s number. “And you just let her leave?”
“I told you, I couldn’t stop her,” Cooper says. “I tried, I swear, but she kept insisting it wouldn’t take that long.” He’s leaning against the car now, his arms crossed over his chest.
“She’s five foot two,” I say. “You could have stopped her.”
“You wanted me to use force to get Clarice to stay here and wait for you?”
“Not force,” I say. “Your charming words. You can charm people into anything, Cooper, and then of course when it counts, you DON’T COME THROUGH!” I’m screaming again, and my voice is echoing up and down the empty street. Cooper looks really nervous now, like I might really go crazy.
My phone starts vibrating. One new text! I scroll the screen furiously, hoping it’s Clarice or Marissa. But it’s not. It’s Tyler.
“REFRESHING YOUR PAGE ON LANESBORO LOSERS,” it says. “AND IT SEEMS AS IF THERE’S NOTHING THERE. YOU HAVE ONE HOUR AND THEN WE POST THE NOTEBOOK.”
Oh. My. God. My legs start to feel all wobbly and my heart is beating super-fast, and before I know it, I’m sitting down. Right there, in the middle of the street. My legs just go all spaghetti-like, and I fall down to the ground and put my head in my hands. And then I start to cry.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Cooper says. He crouches down next to me. For a second he doesn’t say anything, and the sounds of my sobs fill the night air. Then, finally, he reaches over and starts rubbing my back.
“Don’t do that,” I say, but I don’t try to get him to stop, either. Partly because it feels good and partly because I’m too exhausted to fight him.
“It’s going to be okay,” Cooper says.
“It’s not going to be okay,” I say. “My best friend is going to jail, my other best friend is missing, and I have to put pictures of myself up on Lanesboro Losers, and I just … I. Just. Can’t.” Suddenly the thought of taking pictures and posting them is totally and completely overwhelming. I’m spent, physically and emotionally. I just want to go home, curl up in bed, and never leave my bedroom, ever, ever again.
“Fine,” Cooper says, standing up. “You’re right. You can’t do that. In fact, you’re not doing that. You’re telling him no.”
“But then he’s going to put my notebook up on the internet.” I’m sniffling now, and I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Gross.
“So let him,” Cooper says. “Fuck him.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?” I ask, panicked.
“I’m calling him,” Cooper says. “To tell him he better knock his shit off.”
“No!” I say. I grab his phone out of his hand and end the call. “You are not going to call Tyler!”
“Why not?”
“Because if you piss him off, he’s going to post my notebook, anyway. We can’t do anything until we get the notebook back.” Then I realize I just said we and I don’t like it, so I correct myself. “I mean, until I get the notebook back.”
“Fine,” Cooper says. He slides the phone back into his pocket. He sighs and looks at me. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to drive you to your house. And you’re going to take pictures and post them on Lanesboro Losers. And then we’re going to come up with a plan.”
I look down at my hands. I look over at Cooper. I look around and see that I’m in the middle of Newton, in the middle of Tyler’s street, with no real way to get home and no idea where home even is from here. I think about how one of my best friends is totally unaccounted for, and how the other one is in jail. And then I think about my notebook, and all the things that are in it. So when Cooper stands up and holds his hand out to me, I take it.
My house is quiet and dark when we pull into the driveway, which is a total relief. For some reason on the way over here, I started having this paranoid idea that my parents might have decided to come home early. But the driveway is empty, and Cooper pulls his car into it and then follows me up the steps to the front porch.
“I’m going to go upstairs,” I say, leading Cooper into the living room, “and take a picture of myself, and put it on Lanesboro Losers. You are going to sit down here and not touch anything.”
“Okay,” he agrees. He sinks into the couch in the living room and stares straight ahead at the wall. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Because it’s pretty cute.
“Here,” I say, handing him the remote. “You can watch TV while you wait.”
When I’m upstairs and in my room, I send Marissa a text asking if she’s okay and telling her to call me as soon as she can. Then I send Clarice a text asking where she is and telling her to call me too. And then I open my closet and survey the contents. This whole bikini thing is going to be a challenge, mostly because, um, I don’t really have a bikini. I mean, my idea of sexy is a tank top and a pair of shorts.
I paw through my bathing suits and consider just putting on one of my one-pieces, taking the picture and then slapping it up there, hoping for the best. I do have this red one that’s kind of racy—super-low-cut on the top, super-high-cut on the bottom.
Or maybe I could just wear one of my regular bathing suits but, like, do something to up the sexiness factor to make up for it. Like get myself all wet in the shower or something. Or even in our hot tub. Of course, I have no idea how I’m going to take a picture of myself in the hot tub. And there’s no way I’m letting Cooper see me in a bathing suit. I mean, yeah, when we were dating he saw, um, parts of me on a regular basis. But that was different. We’re not dating now and, besides, who knows what kind of vulgar things he’s said to the 318s about my body?
But if I don’t do exactly w
hat the 318s say, they might consider it cheating, and I really, really don’t want that to happen. They’d probably come up with some kind of punishment task, where I had to, like, pose nude or something. Ugh. The fact that the 318s are making me do this shows just what complete and total scumbags they are. It’s disgusting, when you think about it.
I take a deep breath and then head into Kate’s room, hoping I can find a bathing suit of hers that fits me. I finally find an old bikini shoved way in the back of one of her drawers that might work. It’s black (very slimming!), with a crisscross top and a bottom that’s high-cut on the side.
I just hope that I can fit into it. I take my clothes off, reminding myself that it doesn’t matter what I look like, that I just need to post the pictures and get my notebook back. Then I can delete it and no one will ever see it again. Well. Unless someone decides to right-click and save it, but if that happens, there’s really nothing I can do about it.
I step into the bottom of the suit, and it seems to fit, but the top is giving me a hard time. I can’t figure out how to tie the straps behind my head, because they’re crisscross and very skinny, and my hands are shaking, which isn’t helping.
“Eliza?” I hear Cooper call my name from the top of the stairs. The top of the stairs, as in, he’s right outside my sister’s bedroom. I freeze. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine, just please don’t—”
The bedroom door opens then, and Cooper’s standing there. And he sees me. With the bikini bottom on and the top of the bikini hanging off me. I turn around quickly so he can’t see anything else.
“Get out!” I yell.
“Okay, okay!” he says, and shuts the door. “Sorry!”
I take a deep breath and try to still my beating heart. Then I reach around and start trying to tie the top again, but it’s not working. And when I finally do get it tied, I look in the mirror and see that it’s all weird, with everything kind of smushed together. Definitely not a flattering look. And for once, it’s not my body that’s the culprit.