“He might have been a little drunk,” Marissa says. “And he did ask for your number.”
“He was fine,” Clarice says dismissively. “He was just a nice old man who wanted to do a good deed for someone in trouble.”
“Anyway,” I say. Although it’s kind of comforting, just how naive Clarice really is.
“Yeah, anyway,” Marissa says. She plops down in the chair across from me. “So what are we doing? What’s the deal, what’s the plan?”
“I dunno,” I say, shrugging. “I’m waiting to hear from Tyler.”
“Okay,” Clarice says. “Then I guess we should probably go get drinks.”
“Don’t get herbal tea,” I tell them, wrinkling my nose. “No matter who recommends it.”
“Got it.” They head to the counter, and I try to take another sip of my tea.
My cell phone starts ringing. Cooper! I guess he didn’t listen when I told him to just leave me alone. I hesitate, wondering if I should answer it, if maybe he’s calling to tell me what it is I have to do next. But then I decide no. If they really want to get in touch with me, they can have Tyler text me. And a second later, my phone vibrates and the new text notification goes off. I look down at the screen. Tyler.
“TELL KATE THE TRUTH ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED WITH MIGUEL CONTADOR.”
I look down at the text and blink. Shit, shit, shit. Out of all the things in my notebook for them to make me do, this one just might be the worst.
Marissa and Clarice come back to the table, each with a huge plastic-domed cup filled with something cold. Clarice licks some whipped cream off her spoon and sits down daintily in the seat across from me, and then Marissa sits down next to her.
“You were right,” she says. “They totally tried to give me the herbal tea. I told them, ‘No thank you, I need a caffeine jolt.’” She looks at me. “What are you staring at?”
I’m looking down at the table, to where my cell phone is still in my hand. Marissa reaches over and grabs it. “Tell Kate the truth about what happened with Miguel Contador,” she reads out loud. Her eyes get wide, and she looks at me.
“Uh-oh,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Uh-oh.” Although uh-oh is pretty much an understatement.
Clarice frowns and her blue eyes flash with confusion. “I don’t get it,” she says. “Who’s Miguel Contador?”
“Miguel Contador,” I say. “You remember him, he was a senior when we were sophomores.”
“Sort of,” she says, frowning. “Did he have dark hair and dark eyes?”
“Yes,” I say. “He was always, um …” I swallow, remembering. “He was always working out.”
“So what happened?” Clarice asks. “With you and Miguel Contador? And why do you have to tell Kate about it?” She dips her straw back into the whipped cream on top of her drink and sucks it off daintily.
Marissa and I glance at each other.
“Well,” I say slowly. “Um, Kate was a junior when I was a freshman.”
“Duh,” Clarice says. “I’m not that bad at math.”
“Well, uh, Miguel was her boyfriend,” I say.
“They dated for, like, four or five months,” Marissa adds.
“Wait,” Clarice says. She sets her spoon down on the table and looks at us. “How is it that Marissa knows this scandalous story you’re about to tell, and I don’t?”
“How do you know it’s going to be scandalous?” I ask.
“Because,” Clarice says, sounding exasperated, “if it wasn’t scandalous, then (a) it wouldn’t be a secret, (b) I would know about it, and (c) the 318s wouldn’t be making you do something having to do with it.” I blink at her, impressed by her astuteness. She is, of course, right on all counts.
“Um,” I say. “Well, you’re right on all counts.”
“Eliza hooked up with him!” Marissa blurts suddenly, unable to contain herself. Then she claps her hand over her mouth, but she totally doesn’t look even remotely sorry. “Oops,” she says.
“Eliza!” Clarice yells. “You hooked up with your sister’s boyfriend?!” A couple of people turn to look. This place is surprisingly busy for such a late hour.
“Yes,” I say, blushing. “But it wasn’t my fault, it was … Kate had this huge party at our house while my parents were out of town, and Miguel was there, and everyone was in the hot tub and swimming and he … he had these abs that were like … he was always working out,” I finish lamely.
“So because he was always working out, you thought it was okay to hook up with him?” I should have known Clarice wouldn’t take this story well, what with her stringent views on love and romance.
“No,” I say. “I didn’t think it was okay to hook up with him! But he and Kate hadn’t been going out for that long, and earlier she’d told me that she wasn’t sure she really liked him.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to justify it,” Clarice says, wagging her finger at me. “That’s not good, Eliza.”
I sigh and decide I’m going to have to tell her the whole story.
What happened was, Kate and I had been getting ready for the party earlier that night, both doing our hair in the same bathroom. One of us could have gone downstairs, but we liked getting ready together. Kate would tell me what kind of makeup I should wear, and then she would do my hair, blowing it out until it was super-straight and shiny.
Kate had been dating Miguel for a couple of weeks, and they were in that stage where you kind of have to decide if it’s really going anywhere. At least Kate thought that’s the stage they were in, because I remember her telling me that she wasn’t so sure if she really liked him all that much.
When she said that, I was a little shocked. This was Miguel Contador we were talking about. He was definitely considered a catch at our school, with his dark skin and perfect smile and even more perfect body. (Seriously, I know I keep talking about it, but his body was absolutely sick. Totally chiseled, but in a natural-looking way, not in an “I do steroids and am a huge muscle head” kind of way.)
And yeah, I’ll admit it. I was a little bit jealous. I was fifteen, and Miguel was almost eighteen, which seemed so old to me at the time. And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how or why Kate could just be so cavalier about the whole thing! I mean, she just announced that she didn’t know if she really liked him, kind of like she was announcing she didn’t know what to order at the Burger King drive-through or something. It was shocking. And, I admit it now, a little bit annoying.
I didn’t say anything, but later that night, when I found myself alone with Miguel in the family room, I remembered what she had said. The TV was on, flashing some MTV show or something, and I was in there watching it because I had started feeling a little hot outside, like maybe I’d had a little too much to drink. So I came inside to cool off, and then Miguel came in a few minutes later. He was fresh out of the hot tub and toweling himself off.
“Hey, Kate’s little sister,” he said.
“Hey,” I said. I still got nervous around him, even though he was now Kate’s sort-of boyfriend, and every time I’d talked to him he’d always been super-nice. He sat down next to me, and I don’t really remember exactly what happened next, but I know we started talking, and I remember making some comment about how he had the same last name as the famous cyclist Alberto Contador. And Miguel looked at me kind of like I might be nuts and said, “Who the fuck is Alberto Contador?” Which was kind of funny in a sad, tragic sort of way since I’d been super-proud of myself when I’d found out that little tidbit of trivia, and I had squirreled it away for days, waiting for the perfect time to pull it out and impress him. I didn’t even like cycling.
I remember him asking me about Kate, about if she ever talked about him, if she really liked him, and then I started getting annoyed, thinking about Kate and how she didn’t even care if Miguel liked her or not. Anyway, I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I think Miguel was getting the sense that maybe Kate didn’t like him as much as he liked her.
> And I’m not sure if he was trying to get back at her, or if he just felt sorry for me or what, but the next thing I knew, he leaned over and he was brushing his lips against mine, and I’d never kissed anyone before and I didn’t have time to think about if I was doing it right or not, because he opened his mouth and then I opened mine, and we kissed for a few seconds.
Then someone called him back outside, and he left, and Kate must have won him over and decided that she really did like him after all, because he was her boyfriend for five months after that. I never told her what happened. Miguel and I never talked about it, and as far as I know, he never cheated on my sister or kissed anyone else while they were together.
“Well, that’s why I didn’t know about it,” Clarice says, after I’m finished telling the story. “Because I didn’t live here yet.” She shoots Marissa a smile, as if to say, See! That’s the only reason you knew and I didn’t!
“That’s all you’re worried about?” Marissa asks her incredulously. “That you didn’t know the secret because you didn’t live here yet?”
“It makes me feel better,” Clarice explains, “to know there’s a reason I was being kept out of the loop.” Their bickering actually cheers me up a little. I mean, at least there’s something normal going on.
“Well, does it make you feel better,” Marissa asks, “that now Eliza has to tell Kate what happened?”
My phone goes off again. “Tell her in person,” it says. “Bring Kate to the Perk near BU and tell her there.”
“What the hell?” I show the phone to Clarice and Marissa.
“Don’t they know we’re already at a Perk?” Clarice asks. “It would have been so much better if Kate could just come and meet us here.” She sighs.
“They probably want you to go there,” Marissa says, “because they’re going to send someone to listen in on your convo.”
“Why would they do that?” I ask, frowning.
“Because they want to make sure you really tell her. Otherwise, where’s the proof?”
Hmm. She’s probably right. What. The. Hell. Not only do I have to confess something to Kate that’s going to be really, really hard, but now I have to do it with one of Tyler’s dumb minions hanging around, probably jeering and laughing in my face or something. Maybe he’ll even send Cooper. Plus, it’s three in the morning. What the hell is Kate gonna think when I show up at her dorm so late?
“It’ll be fine,” Marissa says. She reaches over and rubs my shoulder. “I promise.” But I really, really don’t believe her.
Chapter Twelve
3:15 a.m.
We drive over to Boston University, and we all stay pretty quiet on the drive over, I think mostly because we’re sick and tired of all this running around. Plus, you know, up until now things haven’t been that crazy, what they’ve been asking me to do. Like, there haven’t really been that many big life-changing repercussions. But now … I don’t want to think what could happen.
I call Kate on the way, half hoping she’ll be asleep or won’t pick up her phone. But she answers on the third ring, sounding wide awake.
“Hey,” I say, trying to infuse my voice with as much normalcy as possible. “It’s me. Did I wake you up?”
“No, I’m up,” she says. “I have this super-huge paper due on Monday, so I’m pulling an all-nighter.”
“Oh,” I say. “That sucks. Um, is it okay if I come over for a little while?”
“Okkkkaaaay,” she says. “What’s wrong?” This makes me feel even worse, since I know she’s asking not because she’s surprised I’m coming over (I go over to her dorm room a lot, actually), but because it’s three in the morning and she can tell from my voice that’s something not right. Also, although she sounds worried about me, I can tell she’s happy to hear from me and happy that I’m coming over, which makes me feel like a complete and total shit.
“Um, nothing’s wrong,” I say. “I just … I need to talk to you about something.”
“At three in the morning?” she asks.
“I was kind of in the neighborhood,” I say, “for a party.” Which isn’t a lie. I was in the neighborhood for a party earlier.
“Is this about Cooper?” Kate asks. “Honestly, Eliza, if you need me to get someone to talk to him, I will.” Again I consider just telling Kate the truth. The whole truth, about how Cooper and the 318s have my notebook, about how Tyler is making me do everything in the notebook because he’s pissed that I posted something about Cooper on Lanesboro Losers. But Kate would definitely want to confront them, and then who knows what they’d do? Besides, this isn’t Kate’s battle. It’s mine.
“No,” I say. “It’s not about Cooper. It’s, uh, it’s about something else.”
“Okay,” she says, still sounding a little worried. “Eliza, I …”
But then my cell loses service, and it swallows up the rest of what she’s saying. I click off my phone and slide it into my pocket, not sure what’s going to happen next.
After we park the car and start walking toward BU, Marissa starts acting all covert. She’s got her cell phone out, and she keeps running her fingers over the buttons.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Just checking my voicemails.”
“Okay,” I say.
“It doesn’t look like you’re just checking your voicemails,” Clarice points out. “It looks like you’re caressing your phone.”
“I’m not caressing it,” she says. “I just …” She sighs. “Do you guys think maybe I should call Jeremiah?”
“Call Jeremiah?” Clarice asks. “Why would you do that?”
“Well, because I haven’t heard from him since the party,” she says.
“If he wanted to talk to you,” I say as gently as possible, “then don’t you think he would have tried to call you?”
“But there’s no reception on the T,” she says. “And when I was at the police station, they took my phone. I have no idea if they turned it off or not.”
“They didn’t turn it off,” Clarice says. “And no one called. Trust me.”
Clarice looks at me to back her up, but then I decide, you know what? If Marissa wants to call Jeremiah, let her call him. First of all, she’s not going to learn anything from us telling her not to do it. The only way she’s not going to call him anymore is if she calls him and he’s a complete and total jerk to her. The other thing is, I’m a little bit sick of repressing feelings. Why do we have to repress all our feelings? I mean, that’s how I ended up with my dumb purple notebook in the first place. I had to actually create a place to write down everything I wanted to do but didn’t think I should or could.
“You should call him if you want to,” I say, shrugging. Clarice looks at me in shock and opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but then shuts it.
“Thank you, Eliza,” Marissa says, shooting Clarice a pointed look. She scrolls through her contact list and then pushes the button for Jeremiah’s number. Clarice and I walk a few steps ahead of her, trudging our way down the street and toward Kate’s dorm.
“Why did you do that?” Clarice snaps. “You know that nothing good can come of this!”
“Yes, but she doesn’t know that, and she’s not going to know that until she actually calls him and figures it out for herself.”
Clarice doesn’t look convinced. “We should be looking out for her,” she says.
“We can only do so much,” I say.
“I know. I got arrested!” Marissa’s saying into the phone behind us. “It was crazy. No, I can’t really tell you why. It’s too much to get into on the phone.” I hope she knows that under no circumstances can she tell Jeremiah what went on tonight. I look back at her, and she gives me a look, like “Duh, I’m not going to say anything.”
“Okay!” she says happily. “Talk to you then.” She ends the call, then does a little twirl in the street, her shadow dancing around under the streetlights. “He’s going to call me back,” she says.
“And when he gets home in a little while, I’m going to go over there.” Clarice and I look at each other, and I can tell we’re thinking the same thing: booty call. But we don’t say it.
When we get to the Perk near Kate’s dorm room, a little bit of a fight breaks out. Between the three of us, I mean. Clarice and Marissa have decided they actually want to sit inside of Perk.
“For moral support,” Clarice says, and reaches out and rubs my arm.
“Yeah,” Marissa says. “For moral support, just in case you chicken out, or if Kate goes mental and decides she wants to kill you or something.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Those are very comforting scenarios, me chickening out or my sister murdering me. You two are going to be great at giving moral support.”
Clarice rolls her eyes. “Of course Kate’s not going to go mental and try to kill you,” she says, giving me a reassuring smile. But it’s the kind of smile your mom gives you when you’re about to go into the dentist, and she tells you it’s going to be okay, even though you know there’s no way it’s going to be. “Kate is very classy, she wouldn’t freak out in a public place.”
Sigh.
“Besides, what are we supposed to do out here?” Marissa asks. “Everything is closed.”
“Fine,” I say. “But you have to sit all the way back in a corner, and you have to make sure Kate doesn’t see you.” The last thing I need is my sister getting all excited to see my friends and inviting them to sit with us. She totally would, too. It’s one of the reasons everyone loves Kate so much—she’s very welcoming.
“Of course,” Marissa and Clarice say in unison, and in a certain tone, like of course they wouldn’t even think of doing anything to let Kate know they’re there.
As I start leaving to head over to Kate’s dorm, I hear Clarice say, “Do you think I have to buy another drink here, or does the one I have already count?”
Kate lives on the tenth floor of her building, but I don’t even have to buzz her—I run into one of her friends, Cecilia, who signs me in. We ride the elevator up together, with a couple of drunk kids who are laughing and giggling and making the whole place smell like booze and disgustingness. One of the girls keeps going, “Oh my God, you guys, I am REALLY about to throw up, like REALLY,” and the rest of them think this is hilariously funny.