CHAPTER TWELVE
The scream sliced the thin winter air. Another shriek followed the first, this one higher-pitched and more piercing. There was a commotion over by the kegs.
Skylar headed in that direction, catching her foot on a branch as she walked and kicking it aside with a jerking motion. She called out when she was still several feet away.
“What’s going on, you guys?” She hoped nothing was wrong. More than that, she hoped nothing would happen to ruin her party. She’d actually been having a good conversation with Pierce. They’d been talking about geometry, and then the Dusters, and then they’d somehow switched gears to talking about reality shows. Cuteness!
Near the kegs a small group was clustered around two girls, both of whom were now giggling nervously. Skylar recognized both of them—she thought they might be juniors—but she didn’t know their names. The air was saturated with a high-strung energy.
“I swear I thought I saw something over there,” one of the girls was saying.
“Me too,” echoed the other. “Right behind those trees. Kind of . . . shimmering or something.”
Surprised at the fear that fluttered in her stomach, Skylar scanned the woods in the direction they were pointing. She saw nothing but a curtain of pine-needled branches swallowed by swaths of black. Patches of moonlight penetrated the shadows. Nothing moving. Nothing shimmering. She turned back to the group. She didn’t want to sound annoyed.
“All clear, I guess?” She poured herself another cup of cider as she spoke, hoping it made her seem cool and collected. She wanted to smooth things over as quickly as possible. What had she been thinking, agreeing to host a party in woods that were notoriously haunted?
Everyone was laughing now, making ghost sounds: Woooooo, Woooooo.
“Who you gonna call?” one of the boys shouted.
“I’m a Ghostbuster,” another said. “Want me to go investigate?”
“Guys, shut up,” the first girl whined. “I really thought I saw something!”
Relieved that this interlude would be a short one, Skylar tried to laugh along with the group, but it felt forced. Inside, she was still reeling from the exchange with Em. She rubbed her arms, trying to brush away the feeling of Em’s nails digging into her shoulders, the feeling of Em’s eyes boring into hers. And most forcefully, Em’s words ringing in her ears. It means they know something about you.
It was as though Em knew Skylar’s secrets. It was creepy. And it was official: Em and Skylar were never going to be friends, not really. Skylar barely understood why anyone was friends with Em in the first place. Sure, she was beautiful. And smart. But she was crazy! She wasn’t at all suited for queen-bee status, or even to be co–queen bee. Em was nothing like Gabby. And, Skylar realized with a smile, nothing like herself.
Skylar pulled at the neck of her sweaterdress and hitched its skirt a little higher. She felt like she was running out of time—she had to get in at least one more good conversation with Pierce before the night was over. She cleared her throat, took one more sip of her beer, and prepared to find him just as a bunch of junior boys passed by. They were the cool, smart guys, the ones who weren’t jocks but still fit in with Gabby and her group.
They seemed to be talking about underwear. Her underwear, she gathered from the direction of their gazes.
“Maybe it’s polka-dot,” she heard a guy named Matt say.
She whirled around, heart pounding.
“What did you say?” she demanded. But they’d already breezed off, chortling.
She held the cup of beer to her forehead, letting its cold condensation sweat onto her skin, then gulping down what was left. Her mouth was parched, and licking her lips did nothing to moisten them. Questions hurtled through her brain. Why had they said that? Of all things . . . But no. They couldn’t know. There was no way that anyone could possibly know. It was a coincidence. Her Dot-Crotch days were dead and buried. That Skylar was gone. She touched her curled hair as if to convince herself.
Still, she couldn’t shake the anxious, horrible feeling that people were watching her and snickering. That her secrets were unraveling, that old ghosts were emerging from shallow graves.
Suddenly the music cut off. Skylar whipped her head over toward the speakers, which were sitting on a pile of cinder blocks. Without the background music and its rhythmic beat, the staccato bursts of conversation sounded erratic and awkward. The night was suddenly filled with silent spaces, like black holes.