The Anti-Prom (14 page)

“Inside, I die, for you, tonight!”

A group of teenage boys is blocking my way, chanting along with the chorus. I try to edge through them, but they’re lurching around in a tight knot, and soon, I’m surrounded.

“Excuse me?”

They don’t move.

“Hello?” I try again with my elbows out, but they’re moshing, oblivious. Then one of them hurtles into me, crunching his ugly-ass boots on my bare toes. “Hey!” I yelp. And with Jolene’s pep talk fresh in my mind, I shove him back. Hard.

He knocks back against the next guy, who flails around until they both go crashing to the floor.

“What the hell?” He swears. “Crazy bitch!”

I leave them in a pile of bad hair dye and inner pain and head deeper into the crowd, hoping to just slip through and find Jolene without any drama. But everywhere I look, there’s nothing but suspicious stares and flat-out hostile glaring. A couple of pierced, rainbow-haired girls even start to move in my direction before I turn on my heel and flee. Why couldn’t Jolene need to stop somewhere normal? I’m used to being able to own whatever room I walk into, but I don’t think it’s just the fact I’m subverting their precious dress code that’s making me Most Hated around here. They know me, and clearly, I’m not welcome.

Finally, I spot Jolene down the back corridor, just inside a dim office. Dante waits in the doorway, a few steps away.

“There you are!” I head toward her, relieved. “This place is so lame. Can we get out of here —” I stop. A skinny boy is lounging at the desk inside, dressed — surprise — all in black with tiny loops pierced down the outside of one ear and a swoop of bleached hair falling over his forehead.

I feel a flicker of unease.

“Bliss Merino.” Eli sizes me up, already starting to smirk. “Wouldn’t have thought this was your scene.”

“Because you know me so well.” I roll my eyes, but inside, I feel . . . well, not exactly
guilt
. I mean, Brianna was technically the one who hit
send
on that video forward, alerting the entire school to his drag queen lip-synch act. And who films themselves doing that kind of stuff unless deep down, they have some subconscious desire for everyone to see it? So he got mercilessly bullied, dropped out, and became the joke of the entire Internet. . . . It’s not
all
my fault.

But from the look in Eli’s eyes, I’m guessing he doesn’t agree.

“Well?” I turn to Jolene. “Can we get out of here already?”

“Not yet.” She keeps her gaze fixed on Eli, unmoving. “I need something first.”

Eli shrugs. “And I’ve already told you: no.”

“I only need it an hour, maybe less!” Jolene looks strangely desperate. “Come on, Eli, what’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Eli leans back on his chair. He’s freakishly pale, like he never goes outside, and not even in a cute chiseled vampire way. “What do you think will happen when you get caught? They’ll take one look at the hardware and come right to me. You think I want the police crawling all over this place?” He gestures around. It’s not exactly a secret lair, just piles of comic books and some peeling Marvel posters on the wall, but who knows? Maybe he has other, more illegal stuff stashed away behind the Star Wars action figures.

“I’m not going to get caught,” Jolene insists, her face flushed. “I told you — I have everything to get me in there. I just need to disable the security feed.”

“Sorry.” Eli shrugs, sounding anything but. “No deal. This is proprietary tech, I’ve got to put my business first.”

Jolene swears. Her hands are clenched in tight fists by her sides, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to snap and start trashing the place, but then she spins on her heel.

“Jolene —” Dante tries to stop her.

“Get the hell out of my way.” Jolene shakes him off, not even looking in my direction before disappearing out into the dim hallway.

“What’s going on?” I look around for answers. Jolene is freaking me out now — not so much vengeful and determined as slowly cracking up.

“She’s just PMSing,” Eli says smoothly.

Dante shakes his head, unreadable. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s kind of late for that,” I exclaim, but both of them refuse to meet my eyes. They idle there, not saying a word, as if whatever’s going on here has nothing to do with me. “I’ll go find her,” I say. They shrug, like they’re synchronized freaking swimmers or something.

Boys.

Jolene’s in the narrow storeroom, tearing into a pack of candy, when I approach.

“Hey,” I start cautiously, checking if she’s still ready to explode, but Jolene just sags against the ugly Formica counter top.

“Hi.” She exhales, worn out, so I figure it’s safe to come closer.

“Does Eli run this place or something?” I ask, trying to figure out his power trip.

She nods, gnawing on a hunk of red licorice. “He graduated early. Took his SATs and got the hell out.”

“To this?” I look around. “Isn’t the entire point of leaving high school to go someplace better?”

She gives me this ghost of a smile. “Are you kidding? He sits around all day playing Xbox and taking money from freshman Mountain Dew addicts. It’s like heaven.”

“Sure it is.” There’s a pause, the noise of that terrible band drifting loud from the main room.

I wait for a second, trying to figure out what to do next. Meg’s out crying in the car, Jolene’s fixated on getting this thing from Eli, and I’m no closer to my after-party and general normalcy. Perfect. For a moment I think about just calling a cab and bailing on this whole mess, but the idea doesn’t last long. Even I’m not that low, and something tells me Jolene likes to hold a grudge.

“So . . .” I reach over and take a thin ribbon of licorice, peeling off an even thinner strand to nibble. “What’s this thing all about?”

Jolene looks at me for a second and then relents. “He’s got this device that can jam transmission signals. Video feeds, radios, even cell phones if you set the right frequencies.”

“And?”

“And I need it,” she says simply.

I nod, beginning to understand. “To get into your dad’s office.”

“Yup. It’s kind of the electronic version of an invisibility cloak. In and out, no trace left behind.”

“Hmmm.” I twist the strip around my finger, watching the blood pool in the tip. “It’s a lot of effort, just to steal something.”

“Says the girl who had us dressed like a Victoria’s Secret catalog, like, an hour ago,” Jolene snaps back.

“Fair point.” I watch her, curious. “What did he do? Your dad, I mean.”

I expect her to clam up and get defensive, but instead, Jolene just exhales again. “He took something from me — the thing I wanted more than anything. So, I’m going to do the same.” She pauses. “At least, I was going to.”

“It’s not money, or anything like that?” I ask, struck with sudden panic.

“No. It’s . . . a painting,” she admits, her voice quiet. “Just a stupid painting.” But I can tell it means way more than she’s letting on, because her lower lip begins to tremble. She turns quickly and begins to rifle through the fridge, like she’s still pretending this is no big deal, but the careless act isn’t fooling me anymore.

This matters to her.

The strange and secret desires of Jolene Nelson should be the least of my problems, but despite all the glares, sarcasm, and general hostility she’s thrown my way tonight, I can’t help but feel some weird debt. She helped me out with my revenge, so aren’t I honor-bound to help out with hers? Besides: if I deal with this, she won’t ever tell about Cameron.

Sometimes, I hate my conscience.

“OK.” I decide quickly, figuring I’d better get moving if I’m ever going to see that after-party. “I’ll deal with Eli. You . . . just relax.”

“I’m fine,” Jolene mutters, glaring. “It’s just . . . all this, and Dante showing up, and —”

“No problem!” I back away. “It’s late, and we’re all tired. Find some caffeine!”

“So what’s it going to take?” I burst into Eli’s office without any warning, sizing him up over the three different computers he’s got lined up on the desk. He gives me a blank look. “For the gadget thing Jolene wants?”

Eli begins to smirk.

“A hundred bucks?” I offer, even though I have no idea where I’d get the money at this time of night. This isn’t exactly the kind of area I want to stroll around in search of an ATM. He doesn’t look impressed, so I try again. “One fifty?”

“No deal.” Eli leans back, clasping his hands behind his head. The red light behind him glows through his bleached hair, making it look as if he’s got a creepy halo. “You can’t just buy your way out of everything, you know.”

Taking a deep breath, I give him one of my most charming grins, “C’mon, Eli. . . . Don’t be like this. We really need your help.” I tilt my head down and then look up through my eyelashes, leaning over the desk a little. “There must be
something
.”

He looks me up and down, eyes lingering on my chest. “Maybe a couple of things . . .”

“Eww!” I cut him off before he can say anything else. “Not
that
. Seriously?”

“Depends how bad you want this thing.”

I shudder at just the thought of his pale, clammy hands on me. “I promise you, nobody will
ever
want
anything
that bad.”

It’s the wrong thing to say: right away, Eli’s face goes hard, and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, it’s been kind of hard to get a girlfriend recently. They just google me and bam! Suddenly, they’re busy.”

“Hey, at least you’re famous,” I offer, trying to show him the bright side. “Some people kill for that kind of exposure. I mean, Licia Devlin’s been doing YouTubes of herself singing forever, but all she gets is creepy guys sending her naked photos. People all over the world know who you are.”

“I didn’t want it!” Eli scowls. “It was a stupid freaking dare, and now there’s no way I’m ever going to live it down, thanks to you and your stupid friends. Do you realize what you did to me?”

I pause. “Look, I’m sorry, OK?” I admit, reluctant. “But it’s not like I can fix it now. What do you expect me to do — wipe the Internet blank or something?”

“No . . .” Eli looks at me funny for a second, and then his thin lips spread into a truly evil grin. “But maybe it’s time you found out what it’s like to be a total joke, in front of everybody.”

I stop. “Wait, what?”

Eli laughs, almost to himself. “Yup. This is going to be good. Come on.” He rounds the desk and gestures for me to go ahead of him. I don’t move.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Then you don’t get this.” He takes a slim black gadget from his pocket and dangles it in front of me. “See, I figured out the price, what it’s going to take for you to earn it.”

“Asking nicely?” I suggest, already getting a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

“Nope.” Eli has a smug expression in his eyes. Smug, and definitely cruel. “You’re going to grace us with a public performance. Maybe even a song.”

“No. Way.” I back away at the thought.

“Aww, c’mon. Kind of fitting, don’t you think? Eye for an eye, and all that.” Eli is still smirking, like he somehow knows exactly how much I don’t want to get up on that stage. There’s a reason nobody has ever heard me sing in public, and it’s directly related to a little something called my dignity. “But, hey, if you don’t want to, then my original offer still stands.”

“What, you mean . . . ?”

He looks at my chest again. “A date. With, you know, benefits.”

“Hell, no.” I think fast. “Come on, Eli, there’s got to be something else.” Something that won’t make me need to scrub my skin off, or require therapy after.

“Nope, that’s it.” The smile slips, and Eli looks at me, totally serious. “I’m done wasting my time with this. Either you pick one, or we’re done here. Your call.”

I gulp. There’s no way in hell I’m renting myself out, and failure isn’t an option if I want to get back to normal prom fun anytime soon, which leaves . . .

“Can I at least pick the song?”

I’m already regretting this when Eli interrupts the band and drags me to the edge of the stage. “Hey, listen up, everyone! We’ve got an extra-special performance tonight.”

I look out at the crowd. There are maybe a hundred or more scowling kids, all looking supremely unimpressed that we’ve interrupted their night. My stomach gives a nauseous lurch. Right now, seven minutes in heaven with Eli is looking way more attractive.

“Eli —” I start to panic, but he’s talking to the band, tapping microphones and checking wires. I feel a hand on my arm and turn to find Jolene.

“What are you doing?” She looks around. “We were going to be discreet, remember?”

My whole chest is closing off as I realize exactly what I’m about to do. “Eli . . . the deal . . . I have to . . .” I flap my hands uselessly.

Jolene grips my shoulders firmly. “Focus, Bliss! What’s going on?”

“He’s making me perform!” I finally get a full lung of air. “For the gadget thing. It’s his idea of, I don’t know, sadism and torture!”

Jolene brightens. “That’s great!”

“No, it’s not! I can’t sing!” Jolene rolls her eyes, thinking I’m just being dramatic. “No, really,” I insist, losing all sensation in my legs now. Any minute, I’m going to break out in some kind of rash. “I’m like, tone deaf. I can’t carry a single note!”

Jolene shakes her head. “You’ll manage. It’s only a couple of minutes, and if we pick the right song . . . something that’s mostly talking, OK?” She bundles me back to the middle of the stage, where Eli is waiting with a mic.

“Here she is, everyone,” he announces to the crowd. “Our star performer, Bliss Merino!”

“Give me just a second,” I hiss desperately as a spotlight flashes on. “I need to find the music, and —”

“Already taken care of.” He gives me a firm push into the middle of the space. “I chose a real classic. You’re going to love it.”

Oh God.

I try and remember how to breathe, surrounded by a mass of bored, hostile strangers. I can see it in their eyes, they hate me already — there’s no way I’ll ever be able to live this down. And then, when I think this can’t get any worse, the music starts. Three familiar chords that are burned into the brain of every teenager who has been remotely conscious for the last five years. “Hit Me Up.” The most annoying pop song known to man, even the singer needed auto-tune to get through it alive.