Mean Girls. Louise Rozett

Ace is high!” Blake sat down next to me.

      Dana couldn’t have heard me. She would have said something. She was always willing to embarrass me.

      She must not have heard.

      “You know what we haven’t done in the longest time?” Madison, who always got more confident with a few too many drinks in her, was standing on a box and commanding attention from the room. “Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

      I laughed, thinking it was a joke, but it wasn’t. Everyone whooped in agreement and seemed excited. At my high school, this had been a very lame thing to play and was found only in Judy Blume books and nineties teen movies. It had always seemed so stupid. But now that I glanced at Max, who was loosened up enough to smile—no easy feat it seemed—the game might not be so dumb.

      “There should be a notebook behind you,” Madison said. I realized she was talking to me.

      “Where?”

      “In the supply closet. Just look on the shelves. Does anyone have a pen?”

      I went in and started feeling around the shelves for a notebook. I jumped when my fingers landed on something cold. I thought it was a bug, but upon closer investigation, I saw that it was a silver necklace. I pushed it back on the shelf. I found the spiral notebook, which was covered in dust, and pulled it out.

      “Here it is, Madison,” I said, wiping it clean.

      “Okay, write your name in it with this pen and then pass it along.” She tossed me a red ink pen.

      I opened to the first page, and saw a list of names already there. My eyes immediately went to Becca’s. The names were all in different handwriting, so it was easy to presume she had written her own. It was odd to look at it. She wrote in sort of half-cursive. Also in red ink. I wondered, briefly, if she had used the pen I held now.

      I flipped to the next page and wrote my name at the top, before handing it to Ricky, who was next to me.

      A few minutes later, the paper was filled with names, and Julia had cut it apart and put the strips into a coffee can.

      “I’ll draw, since Cam and I aren’t playing,” Blake said. She took the can and began feeling around for two choice pieces of paper. “First up, Ricky and Susan!” There was a lot of cheering, and then they disappeared into the supply closet. Cam kept time on his watch, and everyone laughed and talked loudly until the seven minutes were up.

      Every time she dove her hand into the can of names, I held my breath until neither my name nor Max’s was spoken. After Ricky and Susan came two girls I didn’t know, who agreed to go in together and got a lot of attention for it. After a few more rounds, though, Blake called Max’s name.

      “Max!” She smiled at him, and he shook his head.

      He said something to her I couldn’t hear, but she shrugged and then called my name.

      Unlike the whooping that had gone before our names, there was a sharp and collective intake of breath mixed in with the drunken chatter of those who had not heard.

      I didn’t know whether to stand or laugh or refuse or what. There was no reason to say no—everyone else had gone in willingly. Finally, Max stood and walked past me. For a second I thought he was just going to walk right out and away to avoid causing more gossip. But he didn’t. He opened the storage closet door and looked at me.

      “After you.”

      I didn’t look at anyone before going in. I wished the volume would rise again so my heart pounding wouldn’t be the only sound in the room. I followed him in, and he pulled on the light. It was so dim it looked like it might die while we were in there.

      “I knew I’d end up with you in here.”

      His voice startled me. When I processed what he’d said, I immediately took it to mean that he had been dreading it. That was the self-deprecating pessimist in me.

      “How did you know?” My voice sounded small and uncool.

      “Because I didn’t put my name in the can. And I know Blake.” He hesitated. “And Blake knows me.”

      My heart skipped before melting into my stomach. “Oh,” I whispered back. We were both speaking low. It was very quiet on the other side of the door.

      “And she didn’t pull your name out of the hat, either.”

      “No?”

      He shook his hair, which was dry and soft-looking now. “No. She had Julia’s in her hand.”

      He took a step toward me, and put his hand on the shelf behind me. He smelled like clean laundry and soap. It felt so different to not be in secret—there was only a door between thirty people and us, all assuming they knew what was happening.

      It was taking almost more control than I had not to reach a hand out and touch him. The air between us was tight and seemed to be pulling us closer.

      I heard Blake’s voice, but not what she said, and then the stereo turned on. It was a Mutemath song I couldn’t place.

      “Did Blake assume too much, or was she right to send you in here? I mean … people are going to talk.”

      The light hit his eyes, giving them the appearance of being lit from behind. He looked at me, and I nodded dumbly. “I’m starting to really not care what they think of me.”

      Then his mouth was on mine. His hand was in my hair. His body, lean and strong, was pressing into mine. All I could hear was the music outside, and all I could feel was him. I wasn’t worried about what anyone thought, including him. I was unselfconscious for the first time since the last time we’d met.

      I ran my hand up his shirt and felt his impossibly perfect body. His skin was warm and soft, but he held me and kissed me with strength. He lifted me up a little, and I flattened my hand on the shelf for support. It landed on the cold necklace I’d found earlier.

      I wanted to stay there forever. I could imagine passing hours this way. But that couldn’t happen. Because the next second, the closet was filled with light, and Dana stood in the doorway. My feet landed on the floor and my hand swatted the necklace there, too. Dana’s eyes darted down to it, and she shoved past us to get to it. She picked it up slowly, examining it and then closing it in her fist.

      “This is it,” she said. “This is the proof. Becca’s back. Or she will be soon.”

      Max looked at her, and then at the silver chain in her hand. Some kind of realization washed over him.

      chapter 18 me

      JOHNNY WAS STANDING BEHIND DANA IN THE doorway, and he was looking at Max like he’d killed someone.

      “What is wrong with you, man?” he exploded.

      Max raised his eyebrows and then walked out of the closet. I didn’t move.

      “What’s wrong with me?”

      Johnny threw a hand up at me. “Her? Really? After what you had—don’t you think it’s a little messed up to just be … doing that?”

      Something recoiled in my core. Johnny had always been nice to me. Why would he say that?

      Dana shot him a look that he ignored.

      Max lifted his chin a little and looked at Johnny. “You wanna talk to me about that? Are you sure?”

      “Oh, I’m sure.”

      Max pushed him hard. Johnny stumbled back.

      “Outside.” Max’s voice rose on the word.

      Johnny went out the door, and Max followed. Then so did everyone else. A few people went to the shut curtains, and others went outside. I pushed through them into the night air.

      I felt like I should say something. Like I could somehow get them to