The Anti-Prom

We wait.

Of course we wait. Sometimes it feels like I spend my entire life waiting — in hospital waiting rooms and hard plastic chairs, the shadows of the library carrels. There’s a skill to it, I’ve found. You have to empty your mind and slip into a kind of haze; let the time drift by while you wait for something to change.

I exhale, gazing restlessly at the digital clock on my dashboard — the numbers flipping over with infinite slowness. I would have been better heading straight home from prom to accept Dad’s and Stella’s awkward sympathy. At least then, there would have been brownies.

“I’m, um, sorry.” Bliss’s voice comes from the backseat, hesitant. “About what I said before.”

I don’t turn.

“It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s anything but. “No big deal.”

“Yes, but —”

“I said it was fine.” My voice is sharp, and even Bliss can take the hint. She falls silent, leaving me to stare into the neon-lit dark. The things she said to me back at the Loft have been echoing ever since, and even though I try to push it all away as petty bitching, I can’t.

Because what if she’s right?

The thought is more terrifying to me than the deserted warehouses and black, empty street. Some days, the only thing that makes life bearable is the knowledge that I’m graduating next year. An end to this silence, to being constantly ignored — my chance to start again. But if Bliss is right, then it’s not simply circumstance that’s making me miserable. Part of it is me.

I see lights behind us.

“Get down,” I say, ducking down behind the wheel. Bliss is already lounging low in the backseat, but she scrunches even farther as the car draws closer.

“Who is it?” Bliss asks, twisting around to get a clearer look.

“How would I know?” I peer over the dashboard as the vehicle passes us by: a white car with blue insignia printed on the side. It begins to slow. “It’s security.” Fear twists in my stomach. “This place must have a dedicated patrol.”

Bliss swears. “But which building?”

“I can’t tell.” The car turns lazily into the industrial park, the same block that Jolene disappeared toward not fifteen minutes ago. I panic. “What do we do?”

“Call her,” Bliss orders, and I fumble with my phone to find her number and dial.

Silence.

“It’s not working.” I try again, but there’s not even a dial tone, just a low static buzz. I call my voice mail, just to test, but it won’t connect either. “My battery must be low — try yours.”

Bliss is already tapping at her tiny pink thing, but she shakes her head. “Me neither. But we can’t be out of range.”

“No,” I groan, suddenly realizing. “That device she got for surveillance must be jamming cell signals too.”

Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“We’ll just have to go get her, then.” Bliss twists her hair up into a makeshift ponytail and then pulls her heels back on, reaching for the door.

“Are you crazy?” I protest. “That guy is parked right out front!”

“Which means he’ll catch Jolene the minute she walks out the door,” Bliss insists. “She doesn’t know he’s there. She won’t be looking out for anyone.”

She wants us to run toward the danger?

I shake my head vigorously. “Jolene’s the expert in all this, remember? If anyone can look after themself, it’s her.”

Bliss doesn’t listen. She climbs out of the car, looking carefully around before easing the door shut behind her with a silent click. I watch her, bewildered, as all the terrible consequences spin through my mind. I’m not one for worst-case scenarios, but it doesn’t take a huge leap of imagination to move from the office security guard to the local police, and from there, it’s only another tiny step to interview rooms, lawyers, eternal damnation, and — worst of all — my father.

“Meg, come on.” Bliss taps on my window. “She’ll rat us out anyway if she gets caught.”

I roll it down. “Jolene doesn’t want our help,” I repeat. “She’s said so about a dozen times tonight. We’ll only get in the way!”

“So you’re just going to sit here?” Bliss demands.

“No . . .” I search for an excuse, a reason why it’s not pathetic to leave her to her own fate. Or, better yet, drive far away. Then I stop. Why should I be the one making excuses? I’m the only one thinking clearly here.

“You know what? Screw Jolene,” I tell her, my frustration surging. “She chose to break in there, not me. Why should I be the one to risk everything because of her stupid mistakes?”

Bliss looks at me in shock. “Because you’re part of the team.”

“What team?” I can’t believe her, trying to pull this after everything she’s said. “We’ve spent less than four hours with one another. I bet you both don’t even know my last name!”

“So what?” She glares at me, suddenly fierce. “We’re in this together, Meg, at least for tonight, so why don’t you step up for once and actually do something?” She pauses, giving me a familiar bitchy stare. “That’s right, I forgot — you don’t actually do anything. Hey, good luck with that.”

Before I can defend my desire not to acquire a criminal record before I graduate, Bliss turns her back and trots toward the complex. Her white dress flutters like a ghost in the shadows until finally, she’s swallowed up by the dark, and I’m left here alone.

Again.

I sit in silence, seething at their utter stupidity. Does Bliss really want to risk her entire future on this stupid stunt? Because I know for certain that getting mixed up in whatever Jolene is doing will wreck our permanent records forever. It’s crazy and dangerous, and the kind of thing you don’t even ask your best friend to help with, but I’m supposed to jump at the chance when I don’t even like them?

I get out of the car.

“You’re losing your mind,” I whisper to myself, hurrying after her down the dark street. My shoes clatter against the pavement, and even the distant sounds of traffic from the highway make me flinch. “Certifiably, undeniably losing your mind.” It’s one thing to be waiting behind the safety of central locks, but out here, the air is thick and still, and every shadow could be concealing some terrible fate.

But despite every reason I have to turn and flee — put the car into drive, and leave Jolene and Bliss to their much-deserved fates — some new urge is driving me on, forcing me to put one foot in front of the other and bring myself closer to impending doom.

Because Bliss was right. I gave up.

I tried at first. God, I tried. When the grief finally eased a little, and I could make it through the day without wanting to weep, I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in friendship, in some kind of human warmth. So I went out for those clubs and extracurriculars, stayed late for committee meetings, and signed up for the charity drives. I made awkward conversation with study partners, laughed along with bad jokes and inane lunchroom gossip. But it never stuck. Maybe they could sense my desperation, or maybe I’d spent too long as the miserable loner, but either way, nobody looked me in the eye, no one asked me what I thought, nobody invited me along to their mall trips or movie nights — no matter how hard I tried. Even the memory of it drains me: working so hard, all day, all the time; getting nothing more than a basic acknowledgment of your own existence in return. So I stayed invisible, and slowly, that willpower just ebbed away.

But it wasn’t my fault.

At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself all this time. Bad luck and timing, that’s all it was. My life could be so different if only Mom hadn’t died, leaving me reeling for that all-important freshman year; if I’d had different classes, been on a different bus route, been assigned a locker next to somebody else . . .

The possibilities are endless and reassuring, but for the first time, I have to wonder if they’re wrong, just a lie I tell myself to make it all feel better. Tonight was something different, after all: the promise of excitement and adventure. But I’ve done nothing but play chauffeur and drive patiently around while the other girls complete their various plans — and/or insult me. I’m as separate from things as I was lurking in the hallway back at the country club, as detached as the girl at the party. I’m still on the edge, still outside. It’s the same as it’s always been.

Unless I do something different.

I finally reach the corner, peering carefully around as if the guard will be patrolling, vigilant. But the security car is parked, empty, and the lot is silent, so I steel myself and set out: skirting the buildings, scraping my bare arms on the bricks in my effort to stay back in the shadows. Every step feels like a mistake, but I force myself on, checking each window in turn until I see the pale shape of Bliss’s dress, standing in the middle of one of the office lobbies.

I slip through the unlocked door and creep across the room behind her.

“So where is she?” I whisper.

Bliss lets out a yelp.

“Shhh!” I hiss furiously.

“Sorry!” Bliss switches to a quieter voice. “What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”

“I’m part of the team, remember?” I look around, waiting for my heartbeat to return to something resembling normal. The room is shadowed, but I can make out a reception desk, filing cabinets, and couches in the main space, with a fish tank in the far corner, lit up in an eerie blue glow. I turn back to Bliss. “Did you find Jolene yet?”

She shakes her head. “I just got in.”

“Right.” I try to think like a wild child, hell-bent on vengeance. “She probably headed for the offices, or maybe storage. Do you even know what she’s after?”

Bliss nods, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Then we’d better —”

The sound of breaking glass suddenly shatters the silence, the loud noise echoing through the room for what feels like forever. We freeze.

“What was that?” Bliss whispers, clutching my arm.

“It was coming from back there.” My stomach lurches, just imagining what Jolene is doing. “Do you think anyone heard?”

“They heard that in Alaska!” Bliss’s eyes are wide with panic. She looks past me and gasps. “Look, he’s coming!”

The dark shadow of the security guard is heading toward the building. My heart stops.

“You cover here.” Bliss shoves me toward the door. “Stop him searching the place. I’ll get Jolene; we’ll try and make it out the back.”

“But —”

“Do it!” She trips away down the hallway, stumbling in her heels.

I turn back to the entrance, my mind blank. He’s close enough to see clearly now: in his fifties, maybe, wearing a crumpled blue uniform shirt and pants that bulge around the waistband. He’s trying to speak into a walkie-talkie device, shaking it in frustration, but it’s too late to be relieved that Jolene’s remote is still blocking transmissions — he looks up.

“Hey!” The guard pushes through the door, flashing his light in my face. I reel back, squinting. “Who are you? What are you doing in here?”

I gulp.

“Come on, kid. Did you break something?” he demands, swooping the flashlight around the room. “I heard the noise.”

I’m frozen in fear for a terrible second until it registers that his voice has softened. He sounds more confused than angry now, like he was expecting to find a gang of delinquents trashing the place. Instead, there’s only me: five foot three, in strappy heels and a floor-length gown.

Thank you, prom dress.

“I . . . I’m sorry. ” My voice comes out strangled, so I clear my throat and try again. “I knocked some things off the desk. Nothing’s damaged, see?” I quickly flip the lights on, flooding the room in a warm glow. Suddenly, it doesn’t look suspicious and deserted anymore, just tidy.

The guard pauses, looking around. “But what are you doing in here? These buildings are supposed to be locked tight.”

“I . . . work here. After school.” I swallow, my stomach flipping over in a terrible lurch. “Just . . . filing, and answering phones and stuff.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “It’s kind of late to be sneaking around.”

I bob my head eagerly. “I know, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sneaking. I have keys and the alarm code! I let myself in.”

“Hmmm . . .” The guard doesn’t seem convinced. “I swear I heard something. . . .”

I watch with horror as he takes a few steps toward the hallway, sweeping his flashlight into the dark. If he goes back there, then it’s all over. He’ll find the broken glass, and Bliss and Jolene, and all the innocent explanations in the world won’t make a difference in our fates.

Do something.

My eyes land on the tank in the corner. “The fish!”

He pauses. “What was that?”

“I came to feed the fish!” I scoot toward the corner, praying the guard follows me. He doesn’t move. “They’re really rare,” I announce, desperate. “A special tropical breed. Look!”

Finally, he clicks off his flashlight and strolls back across the lobby.

“I’m supposed to look after them, you see,” I explain loudly, waving at the tank. “Only, I forgot. And it’s the weekend, and if I left them all that time without food, they’d die, and my boss would kill me, and . . .” I take a ragged breath, blood pounding in my ears.

The guard peers through the glass at the whirl of tiny, gold-flecked scales. “Huh. They’re special, you say?”

“My boss imported them from . . . Brazil,” I agree. “I was already at prom when I remembered, so I thought if I came back in, then I could feed them, and nobody would know.” I fix him with my best innocent look, wide-eyed and virtuous.

“Prom?” He snaps his fingers, recognition dawning. “East Midlands High, right? My sister’s kid goes there. Georgia Hayes. You know her?”

“Yes!” I nod furiously. “We have Lit class together.”

Reassured, the guard seems to relax. “Still, it’s against the rules to be creeping around so late,” he scolds me lightly. “I’m supposed to report anyone I see out here.”

“But I’ll get fired for sure if they know I forgot!” I try my best to look tragic, quivering my lower lip and blinking in an attempt to muster some tears. Bliss should be the one here; God knows she’s the drama queen, but maybe I have some talent after all, because the guard sighs.

“It doesn’t seem like there’s anything damaged,” he agrees, looking around. “And if I make sure you lock up on your way out . . .”

Lock up? I freeze. I told him I had keys, but how am I supposed to fake that?

“Thanks!” I try, my voice quivering. “That’s so nice of you.” I stall for time, taking the box of feed from beside the tank and shaking it slowly over the surface of the water while my mind races for an answer.

What on earth am I supposed to do now?

“Do you . . . need to go patrol the rest of the complex?” I ask hopefully. “Because I can close up here by myself. I don’t want to waste any more of your time,” I add.

“No, it’s fine.” The guard checks his receiver again, but there’s nothing but static. “I need to go check the battery on this thing. But we’ll get this place locked up nice and tight first.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmur. Then I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. Jolene. She edges out from the hallway and gestures, waving a set of keys at me. The guard follows my gaze and begins to turn.

“Do you think they look OK?” I squeak. “The fish, I mean!”

He turns back. “What?”

“Because I left them hours without food. Will that be OK, do you think? They seem kind of sluggish. . . .” As I babble about feeding times and whether they’re about to go belly-up on me, I see Jolene sneak across the room and place the keys on a table next to the alarm panel. She scurries back, out of sight.

“But you know, I think they’ll be fine,” I finish abruptly, slamming the lid back into place. “And I need to get home. I don’t want my parents worrying.”

Scurrying over to the alarm panel, I scoop up the keys. Beside them is a scrap of paper with a scribbled alarm code. I tap in the digits, watching anxiously as the green light turns red and the thing emits a high-pitched beep of confirmation. “See?” I tell the guard, dizzy with relief. “All secure.”

I lock up behind us, my hands shaking so much I almost drop the keys, but at last, it’s done. “I have to go now. My parents will be waiting.” I back away, controlling the urge to simply turn and run.

“You take care now.” The guard nods, strolling back toward his car. “And tell Georgia hey from me.”

“I will!”

I hurry back down the dark street, but this time, I don’t even flinch at the shadows. The panicked knot in my stomach has melted into a glorious exhilaration; every pulse singing in triumph.

I did it.

I stepped up. I saved the day. Meg Rose Zuckerman is a spectator no more.





“Hurry!” Jolene yanks my arm, racing down the dark corridor.

“But he’s gone,” I gasp, stumbling after her. “Meg came through. We’re all clear!” I still can’t believe it, but somehow the girl flipped a switch and started acting like a different person. Someone awesome.

“Not yet. She set the alarm.” Jolene rounds the corner ahead of me, clutching her backpack and that painting of hers, rolled into a thick bundle. “That means we’ve got two, maybe three minutes to get out before the system goes live.”

“Oh, crap.”

We run past dark offices and storerooms, fast enough to feel a burn in my chest. I am so not cut out for extreme sports. Or, you know, running.

Jolene throws open one of the heavy metal doors at the end of the hallway. “Back here,” she gasps.

“No freaking way.” I stop dead. Looming out of the dark are huge stacks of soft toys: rows and rows of oversize, lurid teddy bears and bug-eyed bunny rabbits. “I’m going to have nightmares about these freaks.” I shudder, prodding a blue frog. His face is fixed with a manic kind of grin, like he’s about to come alive and start sacrificing small children.

“Bliss!” Jolene plunges ahead, her flashlight flickering in the black.

I sigh. We couldn’t go sneaking around any bright, warm places in a decent part of town. Nope, with Jolene, it’s all creepy warehouses and alarm systems that could go off at any minute. I race down the aisles, my heels echoing on the concrete. There’s a loading bay in the back, and — thank God — the pale green glow of an emergency exit sign shimmering above the —

“Locked.” Jolene throws down the heavy chain padlock, swearing. She kicks the door angrily.

“That’s it?” My panic kicks up a level, but she’s already sweeping the back wall for our escape. The beam pauses on a row of narrow windows, closed up tight and way too high to get to. “Oh, no.” I shake my head, following her expression. “Are you kidding me!”

Jolene doesn’t answer; she just makes straight for the shelves underneath and hoists herself up. “Jolene, stop!” I hiss, but she keeps on climbing, the whole shelving unit quivering with every move. “Get down from there. It’s, like, twenty feet high.”

“More like fifteen,” she corrects me, clambering up the shelves. “And do you see any other way out?”

“No, but do you want us to break our necks?” I gulp. Getting stuck in a brace all summer would wreck my social life way more than Kaitlin and Cameron ever could. I can just imagine it now: them frolicking at every pool party in town, while I stay stuck indoors watching daytime TV and listening to my mom lecture me about the consequences of my actions.

Jolene clearly doesn’t share my summer schedule. She reaches the top and heaves the window open, looking down at me, impatient. “Come on, Bliss. Get up here!”

“And then what?” I cry. “Is there even anything on the other side?”

“We don’t have time to find out!” Jolene waits another second and then shakes her head. “You know what? Fine. Stay. Get caught!” She starts to squeeze herself out the narrow space, headfirst.

“Jolene!” I yelp, but just like that, she’s gone.

The warehouse is silent.

“Perfect,” I mutter, gathering my skirts and reaching for the first shelf. “Be that way. I’ll just tell the cops you”— I grab for the next railing —“were the one who started all this”— my thigh hits a hard edge, and I let out a yelp —“when they scrape my comatose body off the concrete”— the stack begins to sway; I gulp —“in one great mangled heap!”

At last, I reach the top. The floor is a very, very long way away. I stick my head through the narrow gap. “Jolene?”

“Drop down.” I hear her voice coming from outside. In the light from the security lamps, I can see her dusting herself off — way, way below me. “Don’t be such a wimp,” she hisses. “There are boxes and stuff to break the fall.”

Right. Because break and fall are really words I want to hear so close together. I begin to slowly squeeze through the space.

“Get a move on,” Jolene orders, frantic. “The alarm will go on any second now.”

With a lurch of fear, I scramble out and lower myself until I’m clinging to the ledge. The window slams shut above me, leaving me with only one way down. I dangle there, feeling only air on my legs.

“Bliss!”

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I let go.

“OOOOOWWWWW!”

“Shhh!” Jolene clamps a hand over my mouth.

“My ankle!” I let out a strangled yelp. We’re in an alley behind the building, surrounded by old packing crates and trash bags. God knows what grime I’ve fallen into, but all I can register is the pain shooting white-hot all the way through my foot. “I landed wrong; it must be broken.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Jolene drags me to my feet. “Don’t hang around — we need to find Meg.”

“Thanks for the sympathy.” I limp after her. “I’m telling you, it hurts.”

“And I’m telling you, there’s nothing I can do until —” There are headlights coming toward us. Jolene yanks me down behind the Dumpsters until the car edges closer and we can see Meg.

She leans over and opens up the passenger side. “He’s gone to check on the other buildings.” Meg’s whole face is lit up with excitement. “Get in, quick!”

I stumble over and throw myself in back. Jolene slides in the front seat, slams the door, and soon we’re speeding away from the scene of the crime.

“Did you get what you came for?” Meg asks eagerly. She takes a corner so fast the tires screech.

Jolene pats the canvas roll. “Yup. That was good work,” she adds quietly. “Covering with the keys and everything.”

“Are you kidding?” I pipe up, rubbing my ankle. “It was amazing! Seriously, Meg, that was awesome back there. I can’t believe it.”

“Me neither.” She grins, bouncing in her seat. “I was so scared when you took off and left me. But I didn’t have a choice, in the end. I had to make it work.”

I laugh. “You were great. I can’t believe you lied so well. It’s like you’re a natural.”

“I don’t know about that.” She giggles. “My heart was racing so fast, I thought he would figure it out at any minute. And when he went toward the hallway!” She gasps. “I don’t know how you do it, Jolene, I just don’t. Isn’t your blood pressure through the roof?”

Jolene shrugs, slumping back. “No.”

We drive for a while, heading back toward the inhabited part of town. Soon, we’re crossing through quiet residential streets, the golf course up on the ridge ahead. “So where now?” Meg looks around. “What’s next?”

“Umm . . . that’s it, I think.” I pause. “Jolene?” There’s no reply, so I reach forward and prod her shoulder. “Jolene?”

“Huh? Oh. I’m done.” She rests her head against the glass. “You can drop me up by Union Ave.”

“You’re sure?” Meg sounds disappointed. “We could go get some food or something. Celebrate?”

“No,” Jolene snaps. “I got what I wanted. I’m out.”

“OK.” Meg is quieter now. “And you’re going to Brianna’s party, right, Bliss?”

“Umm, I guess.” My ankle is still aching, and the pain is only getting worse. I try to ease my sandal back on, but just the pressure of my straps makes me wince in pain. “Does this look right to you guys?” I stretch it out between the two front seats, angling to get a better look.

Meg gasps. “What did you do?”

I gulp. In the dashboard light I can see it’s red and swollen, the skin around the bone swollen up in a massive knot. “See?” I tell Jolene. “I told you I broke it!”

“I don’t think so.” Meg frowns. She pulls over to the side of the road and gently takes my foot in her hands. “Does this hurt?” She presses lightly.

“Yes!” I yelp.

“How about this?”

“Uh-huh.” I sniffle, wondering how she’s such an expert. “I’m going to need one of those casts, aren’t I? And crutches.”

“I think it’s only sprained.” Meg gives me a sympathetic look. “But you need to get it wrapped up properly. We can swing by the hospital. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Can you drop me first?” Jolene interrupts. “I told you, I’m done.”

I can’t believe her. “Seriously? I’m injured here!”

“And?” Jolene looks sullen. “There’s nothing I can do.”

“But, show some moral support,” I protest. “I took one for the team.”

“You took one because you insist on wearing those stupid shoes,” Jolene snaps back. “So I don’t get why I need to stand around watching you get an X-ray, or whatever. I did my part of the deal — I got you the diary, and now I have my painting. So, we’re quits.”

I look at her, confused. She’s radiating all this anger, back to being tense and messed-up like she was at her dad’s house and the Loft. But we got what she wanted; it’s over now. “Why are you being like this? You should be happy; we came through for you!”

“Gee, thanks.” Jolene is sarcastic. “What do you want, a gold star?” She sighs. “You know what? Here is fine.” She opens the door suddenly, climbing out onto the sidewalk.

“Jolene,” Meg calls after her, “it’s the middle of the night!”

“And I can take care of myself.” Jolene hoists her backpack up. She looks in the car, cold. “What, did you think we were going to sit around painting each other’s toenails now? Get a life.”

She stops at the end of the street and hops the low fence onto the golf course. Her ruffles get caught on the top, and she yanks at them furiously before disappearing into the night.

“Should we go after her?” Meg asks, worried.

“Why bother?” I can’t believe that she’s being such a bitch about things, when we risked our lives — well, our good reputations — to go in and save her ass. Some thanks we get. “She wants out, she gets out.”

By the time Meg pulls in to the hospital lot, my ankle is the size of a cantaloupe and hurting like hell. “Do you want me to get a wheelchair?” Meg eyes it dubiously.

“I think I can deal,” I say, “if I just kind of . . . hop.”

She helps me out of the car, and we hobble toward the ER. It’s not the biggest hospital in the area; the serious stuff goes straight to County, so at this time of night, the waiting room is mostly empty — just a couple of drunks slouched in the far corner, a mother whose kid has half a toy tree shoved up his nose, and a middle-aged man cradling an ice pack in his lap. I don’t even want to know.

“Hey, Luann?” Meg taps on the safety glass. “Can we get through?”

“Sure, sweetie.” There’s a click, and the doors swish open. A pale, red-haired nurse in her twenties is running intake, one of those plastic toy stethoscopes draped around her neck. She looks at us with concern. “It’s late for you to be out, Meg. Is your dad OK?”

Meg nods quickly. “Everything’s fine. But Bliss here tripped and hurt her ankle. She just needs a dressing.”

Luann relaxes. “Oh, you poor thing.” She doesn’t flinch at the sight of my gruesome foot, swiveling on her chair to check a chart. “I’ll have Patrick come by and wrap you up. You girls just wait in the staff lounge. He won’t be long.”

“How do they know you here?” I ask, limping down the hall. I’m leaning heavily on Meg, so I can feel her body stiffen at the question.

She shrugs, guiding me down the hallway. “I volunteer every weekend. I want to go to med school,” she adds, “and you need things like that on your applications.”

“You really do plan ahead,” I say, impressed. I wouldn’t drag myself here, just for some school I might want to go to four, five years down the line. “I bet you’ve got everything all figured out.”

She looks down, self-conscious, so I quickly add, “No, that’s a good thing! I mean, you’re making it happen. I bet you’ll get into whatever college you want.”

Meg gives me a pale smile. “I hope so. Otherwise . . . well, I suppose all this will have been for nothing.”

I collapse onto one of the couches, propping my foot up. It’s a small room, with lockers, a fridge, and an old TV set in the corner. Not exactly luxury, but after all the running around we’ve done tonight, it’s kind of a relief just to stay in one place for a while — without the threat of cops/parents/evil sorority girls chasing us down at any moment.

Meg yawns.

“I know; it’s getting late.” I try to resist the urge to crash.

“Oh. No.” She shakes her head quickly. “I’m fine. It’s just, after all that adrenaline, I’m coming back down.”

“Relax,” I tell her, grinning. “You’re allowed to be tired. Tonight’s been crazy.”

She exhales. “It has, hasn’t it? I can’t believe you guys talked me into even half that stuff.”

I bite my lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t have.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“I mean, piling on all the pressure.” I shift, feeling even more guilty as I remember the way me and Jolene manipulated her. We backed her into a corner, even when she made it clear she didn’t want to get involved. I sigh. “I really am sorry. And then I went and said all that stuff . . .”

Meg seems guarded. “I told you, I was fine.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but you didn’t mean it.”

She breaks a small grin. “Well, no . . . but I think I needed to hear it, all the same. I mean, you were right,” Meg adds quietly. “About some things, at least. The truth is . . .” She pauses, uncertain.

“Go on.”

She looks sad for a second. “The truth is, I have given up. Or, I had; I don’t know.”

I must look alarmed, because she quickly continues, “Not on life! But, school, you know? Friends. Being happy.”

“That’s . . . awful.” My voice is soft. She’s not kidding around here. I can tell.

Meg shrugs, awkward. “You get used to it. It’s scary, just how normal being unhappy can get.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then a doctor bustles in. “So who took a nasty spill?”

I raise my hand. He’s in his forties maybe, and balding on top — less McDreamy than McTeddy, but my foot is aching so much, I really don’t care.

“Hmmm . . .” He feels it for a moment, twisting one way and then the next. “Looks like just a sprain. I can give you something for the pain —”

I nod eagerly. He laughs. “And wrap it up to get the swelling down. Unless you want the practice, Meg?”

“Really?” She brightens.

“Sure.” He makes a few checks on a chart and tears off a form. “Hand this to Luann on your way out.”

“Thanks,” I breathe. “I can walk on it, right?”

He nods. “Careful, though. No leaping off tall buildings, or anything like that.”

I catch Meg’s eye and have to hide a laugh. If only he knew. . . .

Meg wraps my foot quickly, like she’s already a professional. Luann checks it and sets me up with a couple of pills — which I gulp down right away. “No driving,” she warns me. I nod obediently. Never mind the medication; I don’t think I could even fit my foot on the pedal.

We make our way slowly toward the exit, Meg supporting my arm.

“Won’t your parents be freaking out by now?” I ask curiously. “Mine know I’m staying at Brianna’s, but you must be way past curfew.”

Meg looks sheepish. “Jolene had me tell them I was sleeping over at your place. An all-girl slumber party. Then I was supposed to drive home later and say you’d all started drinking, so I left.”

My mouth drops open. “That girl!”

“You have to admit, she’s kind of a genius.” Meg laughs. “My dad is super-overprotective, but even he agreed it sounded like fun.”

“Sure, if it’s not your reputation getting wrecked!”

We’re nearly at the exit, but she stops in the middle of the hall. I turn, questioning.

“It’s not just because I volunteer, how they know me here,” she says quietly.

“Oh?”

Meg doesn’t reply for a second; she just looks at the waiting room, her face closed off. “I was here all the time, when my mom got sick,” she says eventually. “Chemo and treatments.” There’s another long pause, and then she adds, “She died.”

Oh.

I grip her shoulder, and for a moment, I can’t tell who is holding the other one up. I feel a lurch of guilt. All those times I wrote off her moping as self-indulgent, or figured she was miserable for no good reason . . .

As reasons go, this one is pretty freaking good.

“Meg . . .” I breathe, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile.

“She’d get a kick out of this. Tonight, I mean. She always wanted me to have great adventures, to take more risks.” Meg starts walking again, so I follow, out onto the sidewalk. “It’s why I kept saying yes to you guys.”

“And I thought it was my charm and persuasion,” I joke, trying too hard, but I’m rewarded with a smile, genuine this time.

“Sure, those too.”

“I . . .” I stop, awkward. I want to tell her I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known. But she stops me with a look.

“Your ankle’s OK?”

I test it with some weight. “The bandages help”— I nod —“and the pills should kick in soon. Good thing Jolene isn’t here,” I add, still trying to joke. “She’d probably want to sell them on some street corner.”

Meg doesn’t laugh. She pauses by the car, swinging her keys on one finger. “I hope she’s OK. Where do you think she went?”

I sigh. “How would I know? Back home, I hope, or —” I stop, suddenly realizing something.

“What?”

“The golf course. It backs up to her dad’s house, remember?” I gulp, remembering just what kind of crappy mood she was in. “Oh, crap.”

Meg’s eyes widen. “Will she do something, do you think?”

“This is Jolene,” I say shortly. “Of course she’s going to do something. And in the state she’s in right now, it’s probably going to be a felony.”

God, how stupid can that girl be? I yank the car door open, frustrated. I was this close to getting to Brianna’s — back to normalcy and party fun. But no, Jolene has to go back for round two. . . .

“Come on,” Meg says, deciding for me. “We’d better go stop her. Like you said, it’s a team thing.”