Mean Girls. Louise Rozett

that one time with the shoelaces and the Barbie? Oh, my God, the look on his face … Bahahaha come back, slut, I miss you!

      They were all writing to her like she was checking her Facebook regularly. I wondered, with a pang, if she was. What had Dana suggested the other night? That she was off “handling” something.

      I kept scrolling, and found Dana’s most recent post: I know you’re not gone. I know it. So stop. Come back. Or at least contact me.

      There were tons more comments like those and like Dana’s. It was creepy. Spooky.

      And it made me really wonder what had happened. Maybe she wasn’t even missing. Maybe everyone knew where she was, and she was just … hiding for some reason. That would be crazy … but maybe that’s what it was.

      But if she wasn’t … what had happened? Blake had said something about a boat that went missing that night in the storm. Had Becca taken it out? She couldn’t have. It was pitch-black down there at night, and in a storm? She could have just called a cab, like Blake had said, on the payphone in the lobby and … left.

      To make my brain strain more, I clicked on her pictures. I could only see a few, but they were enough. In the one she had set as her default, Max was kissing her on the cheek, and she was smiling. In the next few, she just looked pretty. She looked like she was trying to look pretty, but she was undeniably succeeding. All the comments on her pictures confirmed it.

      A sudden jab of uncharacteristic jealousy struck me. She’d been new at Manderley last year. How had she managed to make so many friends here, made such an impact, while I was greeted with only hesitance quickly followed by disinterest? Madison and Julia made some kind of an effort with me, and Johnny was nice. Max was … something. Blake was nice, too, I guessed. But Dana …

      There was only a handful of people I’d even talked to, and all of them—except maybe for Cam, who rarely spoke—seemed morbidly and irreversibly affected by Becca. They all knew her. It’s not like each of them talked only about her, but somehow that seemed more significant.

      I don’t know what happened to me, then. I was depressed about being away from home and jealous of Becca one moment, and then the next, something shifted in me. It was as if my skeleton turned to iron—I was strong, and I would not have my happiness and fate decided by some popular girl who had reigned before I got there.

      It wasn’t up to Becca or Dana how I lived my life.

      chapter 9 becca

      BECCA LEANED ON MAX, WITH HER DRINK IN hand. His arm was around her, tightened a little to keep her steady. He laughed at something Johnny said. Becca wasn’t really paying attention. She was watching the way Johnny’s muscles flexed when he moved his arms. He was too hot. But she couldn’t go for him. She’d already gotten the ungettable.

      Well. Almost gotten him. Tonight was the night to seal the deal. Madison and Julia had given her sympathy and said “not to feel too badly about him not wanting to get together officially, because really he just never does that.”

      Fuck that.

      Becca’s eyes slid involuntarily up Johnny’s body and she flinched when she realized he was looking at her, too. She smiled and bit her bottom lip. Quickly she glanced up at Max, who had been taking a swig of his drink and didn’t notice.

      “Max,” she said, readjusting her attention to him. “Let’s go outside.”

      “Okay.”

      Johnny had already turned away when Becca looked back.

      She grabbed his hand. “Lead the way.”

      Max guided her through the crowd, smiling and shaking his head at all of the “ooh’s” and “get it, Holloway!” as they passed by.

      Once they were outside, she gave him the look that always made boys kiss her.

      It worked. He laid a hand on her jawbone and pulled her toward him. He was a good kisser. She should want this. But she felt like something was missing with him. She kissed him harder, hoping she could forget the thoughts in her mind.

      She pulled away and smiled slyly. Then she yanked his arm and guided him away from the door and into the darkness behind the boathouse.

      He silently allowed her to take him there. Then, in the darkness where she could pretend he was anyone, she kissed him hard. He kissed her back. So he was capable of not kissing just like a Nice Guy. She scratched his back, and all the way around the waistband of his boxers, which were a little higher than his slightly loose pants. She unbuttoned his top button. She could feel that he wanted it. And she was going to give it.

      His grip on her waist tightened. She bit his lip and unzipped his pants, slowly dropping to her knees. She ran her hands up and down his legs, and kissed the sharp muscles of his hip. Then she did it.

      A few minutes later, her lips were pink and so were Max’s cheeks. She’d finished and then zipped and buttoned him back up.

      “Becca …” Max said. He pulled her in toward him, and kissed her from her raw lips to her collarbone. Then he saw the look on her face. “Are you okay?”

      “Yes,” she said, as unconvincingly as she could.

      “You’re obviously not … what’s wrong?”

      She sighed, a tad theatrically. “Nothing …”

      He looked her in the eyes and silently demanded an answer.

      “I just … never do that sort of thing. And—” she intentionally let her breath quiver “—I just don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”

      She’d used her sex appeal to get her anywhere she’d ever been in life so far. And this was not the first time she’d had this conversation.

      “I don’t.”

      “How could you not? I mean I’m not even your girlfriend …”

      “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

      She was worried about exactly that. She wanted him to spread around how fantastically talented she was at … stuff.

      “I appreciate that. But I don’t care about what other people think. I care about what you think. And I want you to think I’m respectable. God … first we did it on my first night here, and now this? I’m so stupid.”

      Becca ran a hand through her long hair, swooping it to one side.

      “No, you’re not.”

      “Why would you like me?” She put on her cute voice.

      He shrugged. “I just do.”

      That was not a good answer. She was used to guys falling at her feet and giving her laundry lists of reasons why they loved her.

      She paused, and then tried to look sullen. “We just can’t do this again. We can’t do this until—I mean, unless we’re official. I just can’t live with myself.”

      Becca watched him decide what his next move was.

      “If that’s how you feel about it, I understand.”

      She nodded. Dammit. He wasn’t going in for this.

      Later that night, after Max had been too understanding and left her alone the rest of the night, Becca went up to her room to stumble out of her clothes and into a slip.

      “You okay?” Dana asked from her bed.

      Shut. Up. That was all Becca wanted to say. But instead she held up a hand and gave thumbs-up, her other hand putting pressure on her throbbing head.

      “Should I get you some water? I have some Excedrin.”

      “Two.” She held out a hand again, without looking. She heard Dana scrambling up and out of her bed to