“People get their hair chemically straightened all the time,” she says. “You’d look so pretty.”
“I’ll look into it this week,” I promise. “You look adorable tonight, by the way. Did I already say that? I love that dress on you.”
“It does make me look thin, doesn’t it?” she asks, turning sideways and sucking in her tummy.
“You always look thin,” I say, not sure if that’s what I’m supposed to say to someone with an eating disorder. I should have researched that after I found out. That’s what a good friend would do, not be so self-absorbed she didn’t even find out what to say about it.
“Thanks,” Lindsey says, looking pleased.
And even though I guessed correctly that time, my stomach is still in knots when we head back out to the show. Every step feels like walking on eggshells—or a tightrope suspended fifty feet over a concrete floor with nothing to catch me if I fall. I don’t know how I got here, to a place where being in Lindsey’s good graces feels like life or death. But now that I’m here, I’m afraid there’s only one way down.
three
Now Playing:
“Rock ’n’ Roll High School”–Ramones
Back on the floor, Lindsey pulls me through the crowd to where we left Elaine and Ian. They’re in their own little world, dancing to their own music. They aren’t jumping around like most of the crowd or even grinding on each other. Elaine’s arms are twined around Ian’s neck, and his hands rest on her hips in a casual yet possessive hold. They sway together as if they’ve forgotten another person is in the room, gazing into each other’s eyes with such intensity I swear I can feel the heat rolling off them.
I look away, a funny mixture of embarrassment and jealousy swirling inside me. No one has ever looked at me that way.
Except Chase.
I shove that thought away with violence.
“This is the last song we’re gonna play before we take a short break,” Colin says into the microphone, his accent strong and adorable. “I wrote this song for my ex-girlfriend. It’s called ‘Across the Pond Scum.’” He points into the crowd near the stage, though I can’t tell if he’s pointing at Daria or another girl he dated. They all shriek in rapturous unison and jump up and down.
When the song ends, Elaine and Ian finally break apart from their embrace, and he takes her hand and pulls her into our circle. Daria comes bounding up, overflowing with excitement. “Did you hear that? Colin wrote a song for me!”
What I heard was a song about him being a dick to a nameless American girl, but I keep my mouth shut. She’s too drunk and happy to absorb such a harsh reality, anyway.
She giggles and links arms with Elaine, who placidly allows the show of affection without so much as a disgusted look in Daria’s direction. Maybe this Ian guy is some magic cure for her horribleness.
As if to remind me of her true evil, Todd materializes beside us. He reaches for my hand, but I duck by pulling out my phone and pretending I didn’t notice. Then Chase steps around him and hugs Lindsey, and they talk in voices too quiet for the rest of us to hear, and I wish I’d let Todd take my hand.
“You like the band?” he asks.
“Yeah, they’re great.”
I watch Chase teasing an outraged Lindsey. I can tell just by his smile that he said something inappropriate and offended her sense of decency.
“You look pretty,” Todd says.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Is this okay?” he asks, reaching for my hand again.
“I guess, but I’m still mad at you,” I say, letting him take my hand in his big, sweaty paw.
“Selfies,” Daria yells, holding up her phone and making pouty faces into it. She squeezes up close to Elaine, then drags me and Lindsey over to join them.
The boys stand aside while she takes pictures of the four of us, then hands the phone to Todd for a picture of our outfits. I stick out like a sore thumb in my ripped jeans and Converse.
Todd hands the phone back, and the guys move back in to claim their girls. I wish I was one of those girls.
“Todd,” Ian says, tipping his chin at Todd, his eyes cold.
“Ian,” Todd says, hunching his shoulders and looking unhappy.
