Trip threw an arm around her shoulders and added, “Yeah. Last time I was at the 7-11, all I picked up was a Slurpee.”
Lisa and I laughed, but I was feeling pretty torn up inside. Seeing the two of them together was just the slightest bit devastating. They looked like a page ripped out of a magazine, standing there with their dazzling good looks and their suggestive smiles. They gave off the vibe that they were part of some secret club the rest of us would never be asked to join. What, do beautiful people have radar or something for one another?
Chapter 8
NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD
I spent the next couple of hours hanging out with some girls from my art class. Just as we decided to start a game of Quarters, Lisa grabbed my arm and pulled me over to a more private corner of the kitchen. “Oh my God, Pickford’s here!” she managed to whisper-scream in my ear.
Pickford was Penelope Redy’s twin brother, but I didn’t really know him too well. Lisa had been eyeing him up since the first day of school. He’d shot up about six inches and apparently spent the entire summer vacation lifting weights, because he showed up for senior year looking like a completely different person. Tall, dark and lean, with just enough muscle to not appear lanky. He wasn’t really my type- I’d recently been displaying a particular affinity for blonds- but he was definitely cute. It wasn’t easy to transition, but Pick was always a well-liked guy and with the new abs and attitude, Lisa figured it wouldn’t be long before he sidled on in to our group. That he’d shown up at Rymer’s was an encouraging start.
I asked, “Where is he?”
Lisa nodded her head in the direction of the living room. “In there, I think. Peek out casually and see if you can see him. But don’t be obvious!”
I leaned out the doorway and scanned my eyes across the living room for Pickford. It didn’t take long to find him as he was a full head taller than the rest of the kids in the room. “Yep. There he is alright. I’ll call him over so you can smooch him. Hey Pick!”
Lisa threw her hand over my mouth, saying, “Shut up, you retard!” and dragged me back behind the kitchen wall.
She still had a hold on my mouth, so I licked her palm.
She pulled away quickly, wiping her hand on her jeans. “Ewww! You’re so gross! What’s your damage, anyway?”
“Um, okay, Heather. Did you just seriously ask me what my damage is?” I cracked up, then added, “That’s what you get for trying to smother me with your freakish paws.”
Lisa held a hand in front of her face, inspecting it for flaws, saying, “Maybe they’re not dainty, but they’re not freakish. You’re the freak.”
“You are.”
“You are, Jerk.”
“Don’t call me Jerk, Oven Mitts.”
“Don’t call me Oven Mitts, Janis Joplin.”
“Yeah, well, up your nose with a rubber hose.”
“Ha! Up your ass with a piece of glass. You’d love it.”
“Yeah? Well, you love Pickford Redy.”
Lisa stopped laughing and looked at me wide-eyed. “Shit. Yeah, I totally do,” which cracked me up all over again.
Most of the time, the purposes of a high school party were to socialize, drink and hook up. The latter of which I was reminded of while waiting in line for the bathroom as Coop Benedict tried to stick his tongue in my ear.
Cooper and I had been close friends for like, ever. He was really cute and we’d gone out a few times, but we’d realized we weren’t destined to be the next Bruce and Demi. Sometimes, we’d get drunk and make out, but that night, he was just too drunk and I wasn’t digging his sloppy proposition.
Thankfully, Sargento came out of the bathroom just then and I told Coop he could get in there ahead of me.
He wobbled on his feet for a second and said, “Why don’t we both go in?”
I told him no, that was alright.
He put a hand against the door frame and slurred his next words. “C’mon, Layla. You looso hot in that hibbie shirt. Come in w’ me.”
And then, like I knew he would, he started singing.
I’ll give you one guess what song it was.
“Oh, for crying out loud, Coop. Just take your damn turn in the bathroom so I can get in there. I really gotta pee!”
He finally gave up and closed the door behind him, adjusting the lyrics and singing loudly, “Lay-la... She’s really gotta pee! Lay-la...”
Just as I was shaking my head at that, Trip appeared around the corner. I’d spent the past few hours avoiding him and Tess like the plague. I just didn’t think I could handle seeing them being shmoopy all night.
“This the line?”
“Yep.”
“Who’s the songbird in the can?”
“That would be Cooper Benedict.”
Trip could hear the altered version of my song and asked, “How many times has someone sung that to you?”
“If I had a nickel.”
That made him laugh.
He leaned a shoulder against the wall, crossed his arms and nodded at me. “You know, I almost didn’t recognize you when I first saw you out there. You look really different with your hair like that.”
I didn’t know if “different” was a good or a bad thing. I resisted the urge to check my flat hair in the hall mirror and took a sip of my drink instead. I’d had more than a handful of conversations with Trip already, but I still felt nervous talking to him, wanting to make a good impression, even though I knew it was really stupid to develop a crush on a guy that nine hundred other girls were practically in love with, too. A guy that dated older, beautiful and more experienced girls like Tess Valletti. A guy that was only talking to me at that moment because I happened to be standing there at the time. In my head, I knew this. In my stomach, the butterflies did not.
“So... How are you liking your first Norman party?”
Trip jammed his fists into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “It’s cool. Everyone’s being really cool.”
“It must be hard to constantly have to go through the trouble of making new friends just to up and leave them all the time.”
“Yeah, you’d think so. But I keep in touch with a few of them. Every now and then, I’ll hitch a ride on the jet with my father when he goes to check on his properties and we get to hang out. Me and my friends, I mean- not my father.”
There was a bite to his last sentence, but I figured he was just trying to make sure I didn’t think he spent his free time hanging out with his dad or something like that. Remembering his family owned hotels, I said, “Well, at least you always have a place to stay!”
He chuckled and said, “Yeah, that’s true. I normally get my own suite... and room service doesn’t suck.”
That sounded so grownup and worldly to me. I couldn’t imagine hopping on a plane whenever I wanted and staying in my own hotel room. The only time I’d ever been on a plane was flying coach to Disneyworld where I was crammed into a double room at the Ramada with my father and brother for a whole week. Jeez, I remember thinking that was so cool!
Trip brushed by me and gave a knock on the bathroom door. “What the hell is taking him so damn long?”
When he got no response, he knocked again. “Yo, Coop! Whadja drown in there?”
Still no answer.
Trip gave me a concerned look before trying the knob. It was locked. “Coop! Hey, Coop, open up.” Bambambam!
Nothing.
We both started to worry. Trip took a step back and I half-expected him to pull a Cops and kick down the door. But he thought better of it and instead ran his fingers along the top of the door frame, coming down with a key. He jabbed it into the doorknob and within seconds, we were in.
There was Coop, on his hands and knees, with his face hovered over the bowl. He gave a groan and Trip breathed a heavy sigh. “Dude! We thought you were dying in here!”
Coop barely lifted his head. “I am. I’m dying. Ohhh...”
It sounds kind of mean, but we both started laughing. I think we were probably just relieved that Coop was okay. Besides, he did look pretty pathetic.
Trip crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “Alright, so what are we supposed to do with this sorry bastard?”
“Do you want to lay him down in one of the back bedrooms and then try to find out who his ride is?”
“Good idea.”
Trip leaned down behind Coop, put his arms around his chest and heaved him to his feet.
“Wait,” I said. “You think he’s, you know... empty?”
Trip peeked over Coop’s shoulder into the bowl. “Yeah, I think so. From the looks of it, the only thing he’s got left in here are his kidneys.”
“Ohhh. No, man. I puked out my kinees. Ohhh...”
I closed my eyes and flushed the toilet while Trip maneuvered Cooper out the door. Between the two of us, we were able to zombie-walk him down the hall into Mr. and Mrs. Rymer’s bedroom and get him flopped across the huge four-poster bed where he instantly fell asleep. He was lying on his back snoring away when I suddenly realized that save for a comatose third party, I was practically alone- in a bedroom- with Trip.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to put himself together after the ordeal, looking at me as if he was just realizing the same thing.
Like an idiot, I said, “Um... I still need to use the bathroom,” and darted off into the adjoining master bath.