New Girl (20 page)

“Max!” She smiled at him, and he shook his head.

He said something to her I couldn’t hear, but she shrugged and then called my name.

Unlike the whooping that had gone before our names, there was a sharp and collective intake of breath mixed in with the drunken chatter of those who had not heard.

I didn’t know whether to stand or laugh or refuse or what. There was no reason to say no—everyone else had gone in willingly. Finally, Max stood and walked past me. For a second I thought he was just going to walk right out and away to avoid causing more gossip. But he didn’t. He opened the storage closet door and looked at me.

“After you.”

I didn’t look at anyone before going in. I wished the volume would rise again so my heart pounding wouldn’t be the only sound in the room. I followed him in, and he pulled on the light. It was so dim it looked like it might die while we were in there.

“I knew I’d end up with you in here.”

His voice startled me. When I processed what he’d said, I immediately took it to mean that he had been dreading it. That was the self-deprecating pessimist in me.

“How did you know?” My voice sounded small and uncool.

“Because I didn’t put my name in the can. And I know Blake.” He hesitated. “And Blake knows me.”

My heart skipped before melting into my stomach. “Oh,” I whispered back. We were both speaking low. It was very quiet on the other side of the door.

“And she didn’t pull
your
name out of the hat, either.”

“No?”

He shook his hair, which was dry and soft-looking now. “No. She had Julia’s in her hand.”

He took a step toward me, and put his hand on the shelf behind me. He smelled like clean laundry and soap. It felt so different to not be in secret—there was only a door between thirty people and us, all assuming they knew what was happening.

It was taking almost more control than I had not to reach a hand out and touch him. The air between us was tight and seemed to be pulling us closer.

I heard Blake’s voice, but not what she said, and then the stereo turned on. It was a Mutemath song I couldn’t place.

“Did Blake assume too much, or was she right to send you in here? I mean…people are going to talk.”

The light hit his eyes, giving them the appearance of being lit from behind. He looked at me, and I nodded dumbly. “I’m starting to really not care what they think of me.”

Then his mouth was on mine. His hand was in my hair. His body, lean and strong, was pressing into mine. All I could hear was the music outside, and all I could feel was him. I wasn’t worried about what anyone thought, including him. I was unselfconscious for the first time since the last time we’d met.

I ran my hand up his shirt and felt his impossibly perfect body. His skin was warm and soft, but he held me and kissed me with strength. He lifted me up a little, and I flattened my hand on the shelf for support. It landed on the cold necklace I’d found earlier.

I wanted to stay there forever. I could imagine passing hours this way. But that couldn’t happen. Because the next second, the closet was filled with light, and Dana stood in the doorway. My feet landed on the floor and my hand swatted the necklace there, too. Dana’s eyes darted down to it, and she shoved past us to get to it. She picked it up slowly, examining it and then closing it in her fist.

“This is it,” she said. “This is the proof. Becca’s back. Or she will be soon.”

Max looked at her, and then at the silver chain in her hand. Some kind of realization washed over him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JOHNNY WAS STANDING BEHIND DANA IN THE
doorway, and he was looking at Max like he’d killed someone.

“What is
wrong
with you, man?” he exploded.

Max raised his eyebrows and then walked out of the closet. I didn’t move.

“What’s wrong with me?”

Johnny threw a hand up at me. “Her?
Really?
After what you had—don’t you think it’s a little messed up to just be…doing that?”

Something recoiled in my core. Johnny had always been nice to me. Why would he say that?

Dana shot him a look that he ignored.

Max lifted his chin a little and looked at Johnny. “You wanna talk to
me
about that? Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Max pushed him hard. Johnny stumbled back.

“Outside.” Max’s voice rose on the word.

Johnny went out the door, and Max followed. Then so did everyone else. A few people went to the shut curtains, and others went outside. I pushed through them into the night air.

I felt like I should say something. Like I could somehow get them to stop.

“—after
everything
with Becca, you really think you can talk to me about this?” Max yelled at Johnny.

“That’s exactly my point, Max! You’re supposed to be in love with Becca, remember?”

“And where is she, Johnny? She’s not here.”

“That makes it okay? You’re just doing whatever you want, and you don’t care anymore about her feelings? She
loved
you, Max!” I could hear the ire rising in Johnny’s voice.

“That’s bullshit and you
know it!
”

“It’s because of you she’s gone, you know. Because of
you!
”

Max, who’d had his back turned to Johnny, turned toward him and pushed him again. This time with enough force to knock him to the sand. Johnny recovered quickly.

“Don’t mess with me, Max, I got a
lot
of shit to take out on someone, it doesn’t matter to me if it’s you or not.”

Max gave a laugh and shook his head. “Yeah?
You
got shit to take out on
me?
Do it.
”

They looked at each other, rain still coming down. It started to pour harder, but neither of them seemed to notice. Johnny balled his fists and hesitated. He didn’t want to hit Max. I could tell.

But Max was done hesitating. With a solid punch to the jaw he hit Johnny, who stumbled backward but caught himself. He swung at Max and made loud contact. Max didn’t miss a beat, grabbing at Johnny and throwing him onto the ground. Johnny pulled on Max’s shirt, ripping it so it hung wet and loose. Max yanked it off, revealing a sweating, tight body. His muscles rippled as he held Johnny down and punched him hard in the face.

Cam ran forward and pulled Max off Johnny, shouting at them to stop. The rain got heavier. Max spit blood onto the sand. Dana, who had been crouched on the ground over Johnny, ran to Max.

She slapped him across the face. He didn’t move.

“You,” she said, “are so
messed up.
And this?” She pulled out the necklace. “This is
proof
that she’s coming back. And you know what that means.”

“I think that’s a bit optimistic.”

Fury seemed to run down her spine as she said, “When you say things like that, Max—” she took a deep breath “—you really make me think you know more than you pretend to.”

He smiled, and I saw his teeth were covered in blood. “Yeah, Dana?
You
want to talk about that?”

She breathed quickly and then went back to Johnny, who was now standing and looking furiously at Max.

Max looked at me and then walked up the stairs without saying another word.

I felt like my world had fallen in. I’d been a fool to think that any part of this place was mine.

Things got worse over the next month. Not only were the days some of the shortest I’d seen, but the cold was getting colder by every minute. It hadn’t snowed. It had only rained icy, gray droplets. The building was cold everywhere. I was constantly in a sweatshirt, and if I’d had my way, I’d be in gloves, boots and a hat 24/7. But that’s just simply not the way to look attractive or to live down your reputation as a pariah.

Susan, who had been polite enough to ignore me at the last party I went to, was now glaring at me and laughing every time she saw me in the hallways or in class. Like she knew something I didn’t. Which I was sure she did.

Every time I heard whispers of “she,” I was sure they were either talking about Becca or about me. Sometimes I was so sure, I felt like I should say something. But what could I say?

I didn’t know what everyone’s
problem
with me was. I had merely gotten accepted to the school. It wasn’t
my
fault that I was replacing—or
not
replacing—the girl who had vacated my spot. Plus, so many people seemed so sure she’d be back. And if so, then what was the big deal?

Ever since the party, rumors and whispers had begun swarming through the hallways like locusts.

Becca is pregnant.

Becca will be back soon.

That
new girl
is a psycho and is trying to take Becca’s place.

Becca’s dead. And maybe Max killed her.

I couldn’t even wrap my mind around any of the suggestions. If Max loved her, he wouldn’t have killed her. And of course he didn’t, because that’s just…crazy.

But then…he didn’t seem to be having that much trouble moving on. He didn’t seem overly troubled. He wasn’t pouting or weeping in dark corners. Then again, he really didn’t seem the type who would, even if his heart was broken. Also…it’s not like he wanted to be with me like he’d been with her.

What surprised me was where my mind spent most of its time. I didn’t spend all of my time feeling embarrassed or put upon because everyone talked about me. I didn’t wonder so much about where Becca was or when and if she’d return. All I could do was think of Max, and our seven minutes.

The rumors about us had begun to circulate, too. Questions of whether or not we were together and what we had done in that supply closet were on everyone’s minds. Meanwhile, they still bandied around the idea that Johnny and I were hooking up on the side. It was a complicated web of rumors, and I couldn’t figure out why anyone cared.

Max and I didn’t discuss what had happened, or what everyone thought of us. We talked in class and acknowledged each other in the hallways. But that was about it, until early December. I was in the painting studio, finishing up a still life that I
hated,
when Max walked in.

I paused my computer at a Zero 7 chorus and said, “Hey.”

“Hey. You doing the still life, too?”

“Yeah, this one’s pretty hard. I thought it’d be easier, but it’s just not.”

We had to paint a still life lit by candles instead of by angled lighting. It made the contrasts stronger, but the tones had to be just right.

Max looked at my painting. “Pfft.”

“What?”

He pointed at it. “I don’t think you have any room to say that this is hard for you.”

I laughed, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry that everyone is talking about—” he pointed vaguely between himself and me “—you know.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Are you—is it bothering you?”

He shook his head. “No.”

A shiver went down my body, and suddenly I wasn’t as tired as I had been.

“So, really, you’re doing all right? Everyone talking isn’t driving you crazy?”

“It’s okay, really. It’s only another six months, anyway, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s not that long. I don’t know why…I don’t know why I’m so worried about you.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I want you to be okay. And it…really pisses me off whenever I hear anyone talking about you or comparing you to her.”

That feeling snuck up my spine again. The one that made me feel inferior to Her.

He went on. “I don’t think it’s fair that they do that. There’s
nothing
wrong with you. Nothing wrong with you being here or…or anything.”

I took a breath. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think she’s coming back.”

I wanted to ask him if it was because he thought she was dead. But instead I just asked, “Why not?”

“I just don’t. I don’t want anything to have happened to her. We got into a fight that night, so everyone thinks I—” He had been staring at a place on the floor, but now he looked at me. “You know…I didn’t do anything to her, right?”

“Right. Of course.” I didn’t know why I believed him, but I did. Maybe that made me the dumb girl in the horror movie who willingly takes the hand of her killer, but I did.

“And I don’t consider myself to be her ‘property.’”

“I should hope not.” I looked at the floor and then summoned some courage. “But if you don’t, then why do you suddenly care so much about not letting anyone know we’ve been hooking up? Sometimes you’re all willy-nilly with it, and then you get paranoid. I don’t get it. You don’t seem like the type of guy who concerns himself too much with how other people see him.”

“I can’t just
be
with you. I can’t just get with the next girl that comes along after my girlfriend dies.”

I raised my eyebrows. “The next girl who comes along?”

“I didn’t—”

“No, you know what? I’m sorry, but I can’t keep being this anonymous replacement for
her.
Because I’m not. I’m just not.”

“I don’t think you’re a replacement for her. It’s just difficult. Everyone either thinks she’s lurking around a corner waiting to come back, or they think she’s off having my
kid,
or they think she’s dead and that
maybe
I killed her.” His voice had gotten louder. “It’s kind of hard to just be with you now. Not to mention the fact that she kind of ruined my desire to be with anyone right now. I’m sorry. It’s just not going to happen.”