Homecoming Queen (17 page)

“I did.”

“Apparently not. Where did you hide them anyway?”

DJ sat down and folded her arms across her chest.

“Look,” Taylor said, “it doesn’t matter if you tell me since that spot obviously didn’t work.”

“In my sock drawer.”

Taylor laughed. “In your sock drawer? That’s almost as bad as in your underwear drawer.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s where people always go looking for valuable things, DJ. It’s always the underwear drawer first — you know, way in the back behind a lacy bra. Then the sock drawer. Then the jewelry box. Then under the mattress. The obvious places.”

“Oh.” DJ reached for a soda and frowned. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Did she take all of them?”

“No, I have eight left.”

Taylor shook her head. “So, what are you going to do? I’m sure your doctor is going to wonder why you’re using so much Vicodin.”

“Fortunately, I think I can get by just using it at bedtime.”

“So that gives you four nights?”

“Actually three. I just took two.”

“Oh.” Taylor scowled. “Well, that just sucks, DJ. Someone in the house is taking your pills, and you’re the one who will suffer.”

“I know.”

“I know you don’t want me to say this, but I bet it’s Casey.”

“Why?”

“Because of a conversation I had with her when she first moved here.”

“What did she say?”

“She admitted that she’d had a little substance abuse problem before.”

“Really?” DJ considered this. “She didn’t tell me.”

“I don’t think she was exactly proud of it.” Taylor blew out a puff of smoke. “But she caught me smoking and I think that made her feel like she could trust me.” Taylor laughed now. “Not that she does anymore.”

Somehow this made sense. Casey had told DJ a few things, and she’d also left out a few things. Still, DJ hated to think . . .

“Casey was in your room last night,” pointed out Taylor. “Helping you get ready for bed.”

“Yes, but she was in the bathroom when I took my pills.”

“Did she know you were taking your pills?”

DJ tried to remember. “Well, yeah, because she was getting me a glass of water. But she wasn’t in the room when I got them.”

“Think about it,” said Taylor. “All she’d need to do is peek through the crack in the bathroom door. She could plainly see the bedside table from there.”

DJ looked suspiciously at Taylor now. “How would you know?”

“It’s geometry. Think about it.”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, and remember when Casey suddenly needed to get something upstairs when we were all heading to school this morning. What was up with that?”

DJ took a sip of soda and considered this. “I suppose it’s possible.”

“She had motive and opportunity.”

DJ rolled her eyes. “What are you, Nancy Drew?”

Taylor laughed.

“So what should I do about it?” asked DJ.

“Confront her.”

“You mean accuse her?”

“Accuse, confront, whatever trips your trigger.” Taylor picked up a pretzel. “As I recall, you accused me, didn’t you?”

DJ sighed. “Yeah, but you make it so easy. Everyone wants to accuse you of everything.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“I think you enjoy being the bad girl, Taylor. It’s like an addiction, or you need the attention or something.”

“Or maybe it’s just easier than being good.”

16

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU,”
said Casey hotly.

DJ took in a slow breath. “I’m just asking.”

“If I took your Vicodin?”

“That’s what I said.” DJ watched Casey’s expression go from angry to hurt and back to angry again.

“I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend, Casey. But I think you might have a problem.”

“Me?”
Her voice was getting pretty loud now. DJ got worried that the other girls might overhear them. She’d asked Casey to meet her in the library and then even closed the door. For Casey’s sake, she wanted to keep this private.

DJ just nodded. “Can’t we just talk in a civilized manner?”

“Why would I want to talk to you?” Casey stood and went to the door.

“If you have a problem — ”

“You’re the one with the problem,” said Casey. “To go around accusing your friends of stealing your drugs. Sheesh!”

“I just asked you, and — ”

“Asked, accused — what’s the difference?” Casey turned and looked at DJ with a wounded expression. “And why me anyway? Why wouldn’t you have accused someone else? For instance, Taylor? Now that at least makes sense. Or how about the housekeeper or the cook? Or even your grandmother — we all know she’s a little loopy sometimes.”

DJ watched as Casey reached for the doorknob, as if getting ready to leave. “If it makes you feel better, I did accuse Taylor.”

“And, naturally, she denied it.”

“Quite believably too.”

“Meaning you
don’t
believe me?” Casey glared at DJ now.

DJ didn’t want to admit it, but she was a little stunned by Casey’s angry reaction. She had tried to do this very gently, just mentioning that some pills were gone, and suddenly Casey had gone ballistic.

“Well, think what you want to, DJ. I think this whole hero business has gone straight to your head. Or maybe you’ve been overdosing on your stupid pills. But you are flipping nuts!” Casey stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

“What’s going on between you and Casey?” Rhiannon asked DJ as the two of them met at the foot of the stairs.

“Nothing,” muttered DJ. She wished she hadn’t mentioned this to anyone. What a mess.

“Well, it looked like more than nothing to me. She was enraged, and she told me you’d lost your mind.”

“I just asked her about something, and she got offended.”

“Anything serious?”

DJ shrugged.

“Anything I can help you with?”

DJ knew she could trust Rhiannon. She also knew that she needed some help — and some perspective. It was one thing to listen to Taylor, but Taylor didn’t always show the best judgment, or morals. DJ tipped her head toward the library, and Rhiannon led the way. DJ followed her in, gently closing the door behind her. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

Rhiannon nodded. “What’s up?”

So DJ quietly retold the story from the beginning, and Rhiannon thoughtfully listened.

“So you really don’t think it’s Taylor then?”

“I really don’t. I mean, I realize that Taylor would be the usual suspect and that she’s been known to lie, but I think I can sort of read her. And, I’m almost beginning to understand her a little.”

Rhiannon frowned like she wasn’t so sure. “And what makes you so certain that it’s really Casey?”

“I’m not, actually,” DJ said. “But her reaction makes me wonder. It was so abrupt. I mean, she wasn’t even rational. She wouldn’t even discuss it with me. And when Taylor told me about Casey’s confession, well, it sort of rang true to me.”

Rhiannon nodded like she agreed. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone this, DJ. But under the circumstances, I think I should.”

DJ waited.

“Casey told me that she’d had an addiction problem, and that was one of the reasons her parents decided to send her here. They thought her friends had been a bad influence, and I’d have to agree, since that’s when she started experimenting with drugs.”

“What kinds of drugs?”

“Mostly prescription. Her friends were good at stealing them. And Casey’s mom had an old prescription for oxycontin.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be really bad?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. I mean, my mom’s obviously got her own favorite drug of choice — nothing seems quite as bad as that. I suppose I was sort of trying to forget about what Casey had told me, hoping that it was something she’d left back in California.” Rhiannon looked like she was about to cry now. “It’s like I can’t get away from this.”

“I’m so sorry, Rhiannon,” said DJ suddenly. “I totally forgot about your mom’s situation. How’s she doing anyway?”

“They’re saying she needs a year of treatment. Heroine is pretty nasty stuff, DJ.”

“I know.”

Rhiannon sniffed. “And she actually seems in good spirits — much better than when she first went in.”

“I need to remember to pray for her more.”

“Thanks.”

DJ shook her head. “I can’t believe that Casey told you and Taylor . . . then left me totally in the dark.”

“The reason she told me was because I told her about my mom.”

“Oh.”

“She thought I’d understand. Plus, I think she thought it would make me feel better.”

“And she knew she could trust you.”

“But now I’ve told you.”

The girls stared at each other for a moment. “If I tell Grandmother, Casey will be out of here,” DJ said. “I know it.”

Rhiannon nodded. “And it seemed like she’d sort of turned a corner. I mean, she’s even been letting me talk to her about God and everything.”

“So what do we do?”

Rhiannon’s eyes lit up. “Another intervention.”

DJ remembered their fashion intervention with Casey and how well that had worked. Sure, they’d taken Casey by surprise, and she’d gotten pretty mad to start with, but with all the girls explaining why she needed to change her appearance (mostly to keep Grandmother from kicking her out) Casey had eventually given in.

“You know,” DJ said slowly, “that’s not a bad idea. We could confront her and tell her that we’ve talked and that we know what she’s doing.”

“And that we want to help her,” added Rhiannon.

“The question is whether to include everyone or not.” DJ frowned. “Drugs are a lot more serious than fashion.”

“And Kriti would probably freak if she heard that someone in this house is taking drugs,” said Rhiannon. “She has a serious phobia about drugs. She told me.”

“Well, the only girls who don’t know about this are Eliza and Kriti.”

“And they went to Harry’s house,” said Rhiannon. “To work on something for the campaign, something they didn’t want Taylor to know about.”

“Like she cares.”

“How about if we do the intervention tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Suddenly DJ had cold feet. “Casey was so mad already. What if she does something crazy — goes into a rage, or runs away, or something?”

“My guess is that if she stole your Vicodin and if she is as mad as it seemed just now, then she’s probably already taken a pill or two by now. She’ll probably be totally chill.” Rhiannon’s brow creased. “In fact, come to think of it, she’s been pretty chill a couple of times when I would’ve thought she’d have been losing it.”

“Like after they lost the match?” said DJ.

“Yeah. Remember how she was so laid back that night?”

“So how do we do this? When and where do we do the intervention?” asked DJ.

“My guess is that she’s in our room now. How about we do it there? And there’s no time like now.”

“Okay. Should we talk to Taylor first?”

Rhiannon frowned.

“You don’t think Taylor should be involved?”

“Uh,” Rhiannon said. She looked about to say no, but then she shrugged. “She should probably be involved. Especially if Casey already told her about her problem.”

“But you don’t want her there?” asked DJ.

“It’s just me.” Rhiannon shrugged. “But maybe we need Taylor. At least she’s good at getting to the point.”

“So do we need some kind of plan?”

“Probably.” Rhiannon stood. “Let’s go talk to Taylor. She might have some ideas.”

“An intervention?” Taylor set aside the fashion magazine that she’d been perusing, exhaling loudly as if exasperated.

“You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to,” said DJ. “We just thought that because Casey had confided in — ”

“No, it’s okay.” Taylor reached for her bag, removing a small black notebook and a sleek silver pen. “It’s just that interventions aren’t exactly fun. But if we’re going to do it, we should at least be prepared.”

DJ felt surprised, but relieved. “Yeah, that’s kind of what we thought too.”

“What are our demands?” asked Taylor.

“Demands?” echoed DJ.

“Like our expectations,” suggested Rhiannon.

“You say to-mah-to and I say to-may-to,” said Taylor. “What are we asking Casey to commit to here? Does she need rehab? Does she need counseling? What?”

“It’s kind of hard to say without knowing the extent of her problem, don’t you think?” said Rhiannon.

Taylor almost smiled. “Good point. For starters we’ll ask her to tell us the truth about what and how much she’s using.”