Chapter Three
TIERNAN UNZIPPED HER GREEN POLYESTER GOWN AND CHUCKED it onto the heap of clothes in the corner. She couldn’t believe she’d just spent the last four hours in that hideous muumuu, let alone the ridiculous cap. And what the hell was a mortarboard, anyway? Wasn’t that some kind of torture our military used to make terrorists spill their secrets? Or maybe that was water-boarding. Whatever. Wearing it felt like torture.
Tiernan looked in the mirror, curling her short blue bob behind her ears so that it ended in two perfectly defined points midcheek. Being back in her normal clothes made her happy. Of course, the term “normal” was relative. But Tiernan liked the way her look perfectly captured her personality and at the same time made her look taller than her 103-pound, five-foot-one self. It was one part wacky (vintage Kermit the Frog T-shirt), one part sexy (short skirt, fishnet tights), and one part dangerous (knee-high Doc Martens boots).
Her mother had begged her not to wear the boots to graduation, and after a long knockdown drag-out battle (was there really any other kind with Judy Horowitz?) Tiernan had promised not to wear them. Oops.
“Tiernan?” her mother called from upstairs. “Are you down there?”
Where’d her mother think she’d be? Ever since she’d found that 1.5 liter bottle of vodka in Tiernan’s closet, sneaking out of the house had become harder than busting out of Shawshank.
“Tiernan Horowitz O’Leary!” Her mother’s red Dior pumps were already clomping down the stairs into Tiernan’s basement room. So much for the little things, like privacy.
“If you’re here for happy hour,” Tiernan said, “I don’t start mixing martinis till five. But help yourself to a cocktail wiener.”
Judy didn’t even crack a smile. “That’s not why I’m here,” she said, her eyes scanning the room for more contraband. Like Tiernan managed to duck into the liquor store in between getting her diploma and the ride home.
“Then why are you here?”
“I’m here because you have a visitor.” Her mother’s gaze landed at Tiernan’s feet. No comment from the shoe police.
“I thought I didn’t get to have visitors when I’m grounded.”
“Well, I’m making an exception.”
Her mother didn’t make exceptions. She certainly didn’t make them for any of Tiernan’s “weirdo, delinquent” friends.
“It’s Alice Miller,” Judy said, smiling.
Tiernan had always feared that this day of reckoning would come, but she didn’t expect it to be right after graduation. Now that high school was over, what was the point? But if Alice had finally uncovered Tiernan’s big lie freshman year, Tiernan was toast. She should have just ’fessed up ages ago. Not that the debacle at that stupid dance was all her fault anyway. Alice wasn’t exactly innocent. Plus, it was only a matter of time before Summer finally exposed herself for the superficial Abercrombie that she was. All Tiernan had done was speed up the process. In a way, she’d probably done Alice a favor. Right?
“Tell her I’m busy,” Tiernan said, grabbing her iPod.
Her mother came closer and yanked the little white earbuds from her head. “I am not going to lie to your friend,” she whispered angrily.
“Since when is Alice Miller still my friend? The girl hates me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would she be here if she hated you?”
“Good question,” Tiernan shot back. “Did you pat her down for weapons?”
Tiernan’s mother just looked at her and waited. It was one of her favorite tools in her arsenal—the Stare of Shame. Then she turned on her heel and hurried back upstairs. Obviously, the woman was pumped to have a normal-looking teenager in the house.
Sometimes Tiernan wondered if she might still be friends with Alice if her mother hadn’t shipped her off to New Jew freshman year. New Jew (known to the rest of the world as Jacobs Academy of New Jewish Studies) was the pricey Jewish boarding school Tiernan’s Jewish mother insisted she go to for the sole purpose of making Tiernan’s Irish father (Judy’s philandering ex-husband) foot the bill. But Tiernan just wanted to go to Walford High with her friends. Not that her mother ever cared about what she wanted.
So, Tiernan fought back with the only real power she had—the power to piss her mother off. It was funny how much damage a six-dollar bottle of “Raven” Manic Panic and some scissors could do. Add in a nose ring and an eighteen-year-old boyfriend with dreadlocks (standard issue at all the finest Jewish prep schools) and her transformation into a punk-rock badass was complete.
To Tiernan, the change wasn’t all that radical. She’d just turned up the volume on her already quirky personality. To eleven. But the whole thing had seriously wigged Judy out.
Summer didn’t have time to notice Tiernan’s makeover, what with her newfound hobby of letting every jock at Walford High ram his tongue down her throat. And Alice (in typical Alice fashion) tried to act like nothing had changed. She pretended it didn’t matter that Tiernan went to a different school. She ignored the fact that Tiernan’s wardrobe was growing freakier by the day while she and Summer still dressed like Banana Republicans. By the time New Jew booted Tiernan’s butt back to public school sophomore year (a story for another day), Summer and Alice seemed like strangers.
Upstairs, Tiernan heard her mother laughing. Of all Tiernan’s friends, Alice had always been Judy’s favorite. Even back when Tiernan was still a “good girl” (well, if not “good,” at least “better”) her mother often wondered (aloud) why Tiernan couldn’t be more like her well-mannered, overachieving friend. “Did you know that Alice started an after-school environmental club?” Judy would ask, all mock-innocence. “I bet her mother must be proud.” Insert knife, twist.
Not that Tiernan held a grudge against Alice for it. Their friendship was fun while it lasted. Then they grew up and drifted apart. The real question was, Why had Alice drifted back into her life now?
And yet, Alice Miller was in her house—the only visitor Judy had ever let into chez Horowitz while Tiernan was grounded. (And she spent plenty of time being grounded.)
In every prison break movie, the inmates waited for a chance like this—a guard with a drinking problem, a crack in the fence. Maybe (for once) instead of fighting with her mom, Tiernan would just nod her head and smile. If her mother wanted Tiernan to be Alice’s best friend again, then she would play the role the best she knew how. (And Tiernan did know how.) After all, if her performance was convincing enough, Alice just might be her ticket out of here.
Tiernan kicked off her combat boots and slid on some boring ballet flats. She dug through the mound of clothes piled in the corner until she found the Level3 T-shirt Alice had given her as a birthday present back when she’d turned thirteen. It smelled a bit moldy, but Tiernan was willing to tolerate a little mold. Hell, she was ready to endure Alice’s wrath, just as long as it came with a Get Out of Jail Free card. Maybe with Alice at her side, she’d be able to hit a few graduation parties after all.
“Mom!” Tiernan yelled, her voice straining under its own forced sweetness. “Tell Alice I’m ready for her.” She took a quick look in the mirror, admiring herself in the costume of the girl she used to be.
“Knock, knock,” Alice said in a timid voice. Some wrath. All it took was one look at Alice’s face for Tiernan to see that her secret about that night at the freshman dance was still safe. Then why was Alice here?
“Howdy, stranger,” Tiernan said.
“Nice T-shirt,” said Alice.
Oh, this old thing? Tiernan thought, but instead said, “Yeah. It’s funny, seeing you when I’m wearing this.”
“Well, considering why I’m here,” Alice replied, “it’s totally beshert.”
Tiernan was surprised Alice had hung on to that Yiddish word she’d taught her all those years ago. She also wondered what she meant by it. But before she had a chance to ask, Alice was off and running.
“So, I was watching MTV yesterday—well, I wasn’t really watching it, but I had it on and—I don’t know if you heard about this—I mean, it’s been on the radio but I’m not sure what station you listen to, but anyway . . .”
Alice had always been a fast talker, but whenever she felt uncomfortable or nervous, she bordered on unintelligible. Unfortunately, Tiernan’s Alice decoder had grown rusty over time.
“So I was looking on Mapquest and I figure it’s about a five-day drive to get to Austin. And I thought we could share the driving once I show you how to handle the stick shift. Plus, I was thinking we’d alternate between staying at motels and sleeping in the van.”
Tiernan thought cozying up to Alice might get her out of the house for a night or two—but a full-fledged ten-day vacation? Jackpot! Sure, it would be awkward to go on a road trip with her ex–best friend to see a band she hadn’t listened to in years, but it still beat living with the dragon lady under house arrest. Just as long as she wasn’t stuck in a van with Summer Dalton for ten days (and Alice said she wasn’t coming) the whole thing would be totally bearable. Who knew? Maybe they’d even end up having some fun.
Tiernan climbed onto her desk so she could see out the high basement window. Sure enough, there was the Pea Pod parked in front of her house. Her getaway car.
“You’re sure Summer’s not coming?”
“She can’t,” Alice said, shaking her head. “She’s going away with her boyfriend.”
There was only one possible catch in this impossibly perfect plan. What if her mother said no? Tiernan was still grounded, and, as a rule, Judy’s punishments were nonnegotiable. Unless Tiernan didn’t try to negotiate. If she just slipped away under the radar, by the time her mother figured out she was missing, she’d be halfway across the country.
Technically, it wasn’t running away. She’d give Judy a courtesy call from the road. Let her know there was no need to slap her picture on a milk carton or anything drastic like that. And how angry could her mother get if she was hanging out with Alice Miller? That was like the woman’s wet dream.
Tiernan stared at the Pea Pod. All she needed now was her retainer and her natural hair color and it’d be eighth grade all over again.
“So,” Tiernan whispered so her mother wouldn’t hear, “anything special I should bring along? Some back issues of Tiger Beat? Maybe my old training bra?”
“Well,” Alice said, deadpan, “if it still fits.”
Tiernan smiled. Unlike her friendship with Alice, her love of Level3, or any of the other stuff she’d be putting on for this trip, the training bra was probably the one thing she hadn’t grown out of.
“UNADULTERATED”
THE SCULPTORS WHO CARVED YOU OUT OF STONE
HAVE GONE AND LEFT YOU ALL ALONE
THEIR WELL-ETCHED DETAILS ARE YOUR LEGACY
BUT THEY’RE NOT WHAT YOU WERE MEANT TO BE
DADDY SPLIT,
YOUR MOMMA’S GONE,
YOU’RE UNADULTERATED,
BETTER GET REACQUAINTED
WITH YOU.
—from Level3’s self-titled first CD