Page 56 of Good Girls Lie
I don’t know what to say. “Thank you,” I whisper, and Becca laughs.
“Trust me when I say you won’t be thanking me tomorrow. Come on.”
We follow the last of the girls through the tunnel and back into the school. As we go through the door to the red staircase, I catch a glimpse of the hanging girl again. The hallucination feels so real.
My words are slow and deliberate. “What did you give us?”
“Mostly just vodka. A touch of Molly. Just enough to make you happy and lovey. And Benadryl,” Becca replies absently. “Damn, where is that key?”
“Molly. Ecstasy. That’s why I feel so good. But Benadryl? Why?”
“You’ll understand in the morning. Ah, here it is.” She locks the door to the red staircase, pockets the key.
“Dean Westhaven knows about the cigarettes.”
“What?”
“She questioned me today. Smelled it on me. I told her they were mine.”
Becca’s eyes are huge in the darkness. “You covered for me?”
“Yes.”
“You lied for me?”
I feel the warmth of Becca’s voice, approving, caressing my body. “Yes.”
“Thank you. Now, off to bed with you, but wash up first. Donottouch your face, or your cooch, and make it a good, hot, soapy shower. Remember, don’t tell a soul.”
She pushes me out the door, down the stairs to the sophomore hall.
“Be waiting at the door to the seniors’ hall at 7:00 a.m. Don’t be late, Swallow. You won’t like the punishment for tardiness.”
And then the warm, sweet Becca is gone, back to her world in the attics, and I am alone, standing naked in the stairwell. My arms itch.
Ivy Bound.
The variegated leaves. Three to a stem. Itching.
Oh, bollocks!
I burst through the door and sprint to the hall’s handicap bath. I push the button with my elbow and dart inside. The sudden burst of light—the overhead is on a motion sensor—makes me wince, but not as badly as when I see myself in the mirror.
I am streaked in red.
They’ve made us rub ourselves with poison ivy.
“Those sadistic bitches.” I start the shower and jump in to wash. It’s not going to help, the leaves were crushed into my skin, the juice is already making blisters form.
Benadryl. To help counteract the itching.
Devious, and smart.
The hall is empty and quiet as I head back to the room. Out of habit, I look at the door across the hall. It is closed. But that means nothing. I try the knob, surprised to find it locked.
We don’t have locks on our doors. It’s part of the Honor Code.
I look closer at the knob. There are scratches in the fresh paint and a keyhole.
