Top 8 (21 page)

“If you're sure,” I said, and poured the remainder of the 20-oz. bottle into his cup. “Not so much with the drinking?” I asked lightly.

“Not tonight,” he said, looking at me intently.

Thump
, went my heart. “Oh,” I said, trying to remember other words. I was sure there had to be some.

“Listen, Madison,” he said. He took two steps closer to me and looked down into my eyes. Since Brian had made me take my shoes off and I was barefoot, he seemed even taller that usual.

“Yes?” I asked, trying to calm my heart, which had started going
thump-thump-thump
. I looked up into his gorgeous brown eyes and hoped my breath was okay, now that we were standing so much closer.

He took a deep breath. “There's something I've been wanting to ask you —”

“Madison!” Ginger yelled, stumbling into the kitchen and ruining the moment entirely. She stopped when she saw Nate. “Oh. Hi,” she said. It looked like Ginger had been losing most of her games of quarters — or winning, depending on how you looked at it — as she was a little unsteady on her feet.

I gritted my teeth. What I wouldn't have given for Ginger to have stumbled in just two seconds later. What had Nate been about to ask me? I had an idea I maybe knew what it was, and
what if I was right?
Why couldn't Ginger have waited
two more seconds?

“Hey Ginger,” I said, trying to keep my voice as friendly as possible. “Um, this is Nate.” I blushed a little when I said that. It made me feel like I was introducing
him because he was mine to introduce. Which was ridiculous, but still.

“Hey,” Nate said, raising his eyebrows at me over his cup as he took a drink.

“Hey,” she slurred. Ginger was one of the biggest lightweights I'd ever met, and at cast parties, someone (usually me) was always in charge of swapping her beer with nonalcoholic O'Doul's. But Ginger always seemed to think she got wasted anyway, so this technique did not seem to be solving the problem. “Madison,” she said, walking up to me, swaying slightly, “I need to talk to you.
Alone
.”

I sighed. This seemed to be the theme of the party.

I didn't want to leave — Nate had been on the verge of asking me something important. And I really, really wanted to find out what it was. “Um, can we talk later?” I said, opening my eyes very wide at her on the last word, which Sober Ginger would have known meant,
Go away because I am talking to a cute guy
. Maybe it wasn't too late to salvage the moment.

Intoxicated Ginger, however, did not seem to speak that language. “No,” she said, grabbing my arm, “I need to talk to you
now
.”

She pulled me out of the kitchen, and I glanced back at Nate, who looked like he was trying not to laugh, but also a little disappointed. “We'll talk later?” I called to him.

“Tewtally,” he said with a smile. I noticed though, when he dropped his gaze, his expression became serious again, and he looked pensively into the cup.

Ginger pulled me out to the deck and sat down on the edge of one of the planters that ran along the perimeter.

“What's up?” I asked, settling in next to her. I was really trying not to be mad at her. She was drunk, after all, and probably had no idea that she'd just walked in on a potentially crucial moment.

I looked over Ginger's shoulder to see Ruth still talking to Jimmy. She didn't appear to see me, and I knew I'd have to go talk to her soon — I just hadn't decided what to do about the phone call thing.

Ginger blinked at me, tried to take a drink, then seemed to realize her cup was empty. “I need another beer,” she slurred.

I had a feeling that this was not what she had wanted to talk to me about, that she'd probably forgotten what she wanted to talk to me about, and that her Rational Conversation Train had pulled out of the station a while ago. “Let me get you one,” I said. I snagged an O'Doul's from the cooler and handed it to her.

“Oh, I like this one,” she said as she squinted at the bottle.

“So, I should get back,” I said after a few moments of silence, during which Ginger tried to peel off the label on her bottle.

She looked up at me and her eyes seemed to focus a little. “No!” she said, sloshing nonalcoholic beer on me. “Madison! I need to talk to you!”

“Sure,” I said, as patiently as I could, wringing out my sleeve and hoping Nate was still in the kitchen, and still wanted to talk to me. “What is it?”

“Your hacker,” she said, frowning with effort. “Here tonight — I heard them talking.”

I sat up very straight. My heart had seemed to slow down when I heard Ginger say the words “hacker” and “here.” I looked around, scanning the faces of the party-goers. “Who was it?” I asked Ginger. “You said they were here.
Who?
”

Ginger gulped her O'Doul's and blinked at me a few times. “Who's here?” she asked curiously.

“Pizza!” Dave said, coming out onto the patio, looking lipstick-stained and rumpled.

“Ooh, pizza!” Ginger said, sloshing more fake beer on me as she stumbled over toward where Dave had set up the pizzas on a patio table.

I sighed. “Ginger,” I said, “I'll be right back, okay?”

“Sure,” Ginger said vaguely, reaching for a slice and trying to eat it crust-end first.

I walked back inside the house, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. The hacker was here? Here, in this house, at this party? And they'd been talking about me?
Who was it?

I realized as I headed back to the kitchen that the only person I wanted to talk to about this was Nate. He'd probably have good advice for me, or would at least be able to help me sort through who it might be.

Because right now, I was literally clueless.

Nate wasn't in the kitchen, though, and I suppose I couldn't have expected him just to hang out while I tended to the whims of my drunk friend. I hoped he was finding people to talk to —I wasn't sure that he really knew anyone at the party except Brian.

Then I immediately amended this to hope that the people he was finding to talk to were guys. Or girls involved in very serious relationships.

I was tossing a few more ice cubes into my cup when Ruth walked into the kitchen.

“Hey,” I said, surprised.

“Hey,” she said, walking around the island to stand on the other side of me. “How's it going?”

“Not too bad,” I said. “Except that Ginger said that my hacker was here, and talking about me.”

Ruth looked around, just as I had done, as though expecting to see someone wearing a placard that
announced their guilt, or a scarlet H, or something. “Here?” she asked.

I nodded. “Weird, right?”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. I mean, weren't there all those pictures from Brian's parties on your hacked profile? It makes sense that they might come back to another one.”

“I guess,” I said. “It's just creepy.”

“Of course,” she said sympathetically. Then she smiled at me. “I saw you talking to a very cute tall guy before,” she said. “Was that Jonathan?”

“Nate,” I corrected. “And yes. He's friends with Brian from a million years ago.”

“Nate, right,” she said, shaking her head. “And?”

I tried not to blush. Unfortunately, this is something that you have no control over whatsoever. “It's okay,” I said. “It's good. I officially like him, I think.”

Ruth raised her eyebrows at me. “What about Justin?” she asked.

I waved my hand, and as I did so, realized that I had picked up that gesture from Lisa. The next thing I knew, I'd be shrugging with one arm. I put my hand down. “That's over,” I said, realizing as I said the words, how true it was. “Plus, he's with Kittson. And it's pretty perfect — the blond leading the blond.”

“Huh,” Ruth said, taking a sip from her red cup.

“So, what were you talking to Jimmy about before?” I asked, hoping this would lead to a conversation about who she'd been with last night and why she'd ignored my call. “I saw you guys on the patio.”

“We were talking about Liz,” Ruth said, shaking her head. “What else?”

“And?” I asked. “I can't get any info, because he still hates me. Are they getting back together?”

“He wants to,” she said. “But I'm not sure it's going to work out.”

“I hope so,” I said, looking outside to see Jimmy eating a slice of pizza despondently.

“I'm not so sure,” Ruth said, tipping her head in the direction of the living room, where Liz was now sitting on the couch with Dell, talking.

“No,” I said, incredulous. “Liz and
Dell
?”

“Frank's a nice guy,” Ruth said with a two-armed shrug. “She could probably do a lot worse.”

“Or a lot better,” I said, “like with Jimmy!” I could feel my voice rising, and I knew I was getting upset, but I really didn't care.

Of all the things the hacker had done, breaking up Jimmy and Liz had been the absolute worst. I was suddenly filled with rage. Whoever had done this to Jimmy and Liz was somewhere at the party, probably just doing a kegstand or playing beer pong without a care in the
world. “Whoever did this,” I said, shaking my head, “I just hate them so much.”

“I know,” she said, taking another drink. “I'm so sorry, Maddie.”

“So I called you last night,” I said slowly, deciding to just dive right in. “And you didn't answer.”

“Yeah?” Ruth asked, looking maybe a little wary. “When?”

“Is there any more wine?” Kittson asked as she clomped into the kitchen in heels that made her as tall as me. This was no mean feat, as she was probably at least five inches shorter. Clearly, she had chosen to ignore Brian's “no shoes” edict.

“I didn't know there was wine,” I said, looking around. “You can check the fridge.”

“Bathroom,” Ruth mouthed at me.

“Rue, wait —” I said, but she must not have heard me, as she continued out of the kitchen.

Kittson yanked the fridge open, grabbed a bottle of white from the door, uncorked it, and poured some into her cup. “So,” she said, after sniffing the wine, swirling it around in her plastic cup, and finally taking a delicate sip, “I totally dumped Justin.”

I was still looking where Ruth had disappeared, and I tried to switch my focus over to Kittson. “Really?” I asked. “Tonight? At…a party?” I wasn't incredibly
well-versed in dumping etiquette, but I had a feeling that might be frowned upon.

“Totally,” she said, hopping up on the counter and kicking her heels against the trash compactor. “I was just like, no, you know? And he was all, let's give this another shot. And I was like, you wish. Plus,” she said, taking another sip, “he's totally too short for my prom heels. I measured.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to process this information. “I'm sorry,” I said after a moment.

Kittson shrugged. “Don't be. I can do so much better. In fact…” she said, leaning to the side, looking at someone who was passing the kitchen doorway. I turned around and saw Nate and Brian walking past. “Who is
that
?”

“Brian,” I said, hoping she wasn't talking about Nate. “This is his house.”

“Not Brian,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “The tall emo hottie.”

“He's not emo,” I said heatedly. “I mean, he's wearing a blazer, for God's sake. Anyway, that's Nate.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, leaning over again so far that she was practically lying on the counter. “He's cute.”

I got so jealous when she spoke these words, it was like the world turned green for a second. “He,” I said, when I could trust myself to speak again, “I mean, he and I — we're kind of —” I wasn't even sure if I could be saying this. But we
were
kind of, weren't we?

Kittson held up her hands. “Say no more,” she said. She arched an eyebrow at me. “So how long have you two been…?”

“Oh,” I stammered. “I mean we're not yet officially…that is, I mean…”

“Then why are you in here talking to me?” Kittson asked, as she hopped off the counter, slung her purse down from her shoulder and stood in front of me.

“Kittson, what —” I said as she unzipped a formidable makeup case, unscrewed the top of a small gold tube, squirted some clear liquid into her palms, and ran her hands through my hair.

“Better,” she said, whipping out a lip gloss and applying it with such speed I didn't even have the chance to see what color it was. “Close,” she said, and I figured it would be easier to obey her, so I closed my eyes. As I stood there and she smoothed something onto my eyelids, I thought how bizarre it was that Kittson Pearson was giving me a makeover. Not bad bizarre, just surprising. And that it might not have happened at all if I hadn't been hacked. Strange but true.

After a few moments, she stood back to admire her handiwork. “
So
much better,” she said, and I tried not to feel insulted. “Now go flirt with him.”

“Okay,” I said, heading out of the kitchen. I stopped at the doorway and turned around to see her sipping
wine and checking out the prospects in the backyard. “Thanks,” I said.

“De nada,” she said airily.

I headed out into the living room, looking for Nate, and still keeping an eye out for anyone who looked like a potential hacker. I saw Schuyler and Connor, sitting closer together than ever. Shy came out of her reverie long enough to smile and wave at me, then turned back to Connor. Liz was still talking to Dell on the couch, and I could see Jimmy on the other side of the room, staring at them and looking livid. But no Nate.

I was heading into the TV room to see if I could find him when someone grabbed my arm, yanked me into the study, and shut the door.