Out of Tune Page 9

  ‘Okay.’

  He walks back to the house but stops by the door and says, ‘Ashley.’ I turn around and look at him. ‘My dad’s away tomorrow night. I was going to ask some of the guys over for beers and whatever, but if you wanted, um, you know . . .’ He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Not a fully fledged party. Just a few people.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say brightly, although I can’t say why I’m so happy. ‘Sounds great.’

  It’s Todd’s party tonight. Well, I say party. There aren’t all that many people going, he said, maybe twenty at the most.

  He said I could bring Josh, if I wanted.

  But . . . I didn’t really want to ask him. I can’t explain why, not in so many words. It’s not just because I know they don’t get on too well. When I thought about asking him, I got that same feeling that you get when you’ve just read the most magnificent book but you feel like you’d be betraying the book if you told other people about it. I guess I just wanted to hang out with Todd for the night.

  It’s selfish, when I think about it like that, but it’s true.

  I pat some more powder over my freckles, and let out a sharp breath through my mouth, trying to think about something else so I don’t feel guilty for not inviting Josh. I didn’t mention about the party to him; and it wasn’t like he spoke to anybody Todd hung out with, so likelihood was that he wouldn’t find out. But given how he’d turn suddenly grumpy and act all moody with me whenever I talk about Todd or mention hanging out with Todd, I thought maybe he just didn’t need to know about the party. There was no harm in simply not telling him, right?

  I’m kind of worried about the party. I’m not exactly popular, except by association, and Todd’s friends aren’t the sort of people I hang out with any more. I’ve seen him at lunch with some people I used to be friends with, people Allie is still friends with.

  God, I hope she’s not there tonight. Maybe Todd doesn’t know her. I mean, I’ve never seen them at the same lunch table, so that’s a good sign . . .

  I cross my fingers that I don’t have to trail about after Todd all night because nobody there will talk to me.

  Once I’m sure my freckles are concealed, I stand up and survey myself in my full-length mirror.

  A pair of thick brown tights and a blue sweater dress make up my party outfit. My hair is a bit too unruly today to straighten (I knew I should’ve blow dried it after my shower) so I’ve pulled it into a bun and fixed it in place with some pins.

  I didn’t want to dress up too much, like I might for any other party, because Todd said it wasn’t really a proper party, just a few of us hanging out.

  I don’t call out goodbye as I leave; my parents have gone to the theater and dinner an hour’s drive away, so they won’t be back till midnight at the earliest.

  Todd’s front door is unlocked, and as I walk inside, I hear music and the buzz of conversation, but it’s not as in-your-face as the parties I’m used to. The atmosphere isn’t so big and flamboyant, it’s softer, friendlier. Much more my kind of thing.

  I go into the lounge, where most of the noise is coming from. The furniture has been pushed out to the walls and people are sitting or standing around. Todd was right about there only being twenty or so people. A couple of heads turn to look at me when I walk in, but then they go back to talking. I put an arm across my body to hold onto my elbow, nervous and uncomfortable already.

  ‘Hey,’ says a voice behind me, making me jump at least a foot in the air.

  ‘Jesus, Todd! Are you in a habit of giving girls heart attacks?’

  He chuckles. ‘It’s a pastime of mine, I’m afraid. Beer?’

  ‘Um . . . okay.’

  ‘Here, you can have this one, I’ll grab another.’ He hands me the beer he’s holding, and I take it cautiously. ‘Relax, it’s only beer. I haven’t even drunk any of it yet. Scout’s honor.’

  I laugh. ‘Okay.’

  He lowers his voice and says, ‘Don’t mention it was my birthday yesterday.’

  I nod, not asking questions, though I’m still wondering why he has such a problem with his birthday.

  I take a sip of the beer and turn back to the lounge. Sucking in a deep breath to steel myself, I say to a guy sitting on the edge of the couch nearest to me, ‘Hey, you’re in my history class, right?’

  And as it turns out, the party isn’t so bad. At least not for the first half hour, when I sit talking to a couple of people – mostly about music. Lucky for me, I chose to talk to the guy who put himself in charge of the stereo, so we all argue playfully over songs and artists. Then someone over by the window calls, ‘Allie, c’mon,’ and I freeze for a moment.

  Slowly, I turn my head round, but I already know.

  I just need the visual confirmation.

  Her hair is deep jet black, not soft brown any more. She’s dyed it. It’s still curly though, but shorter, only to her chin. Where she’s got her hair tucked behind her left ear, I can see a metal bar going through the top of her ear.

  Almost like she knows I’m looking at her, Allie’s eyes flicker in my direction, away from the girl she’s talking to, and she stops talking. The girl looks over her shoulder at me, and rolls her eyes as she turns back to Allie, saying something. There’s a steely glint in Allie’s eyes and I look away first.

  I feel a wave of nostalgia and guilt wash over me, and I turn quickly back to my conversation, ignoring the glare I can feel cutting into my skin. I begin to gnaw on my nails and pull at a loose thread in my tights and bounce my foot agitatedly.

  It was pretty much an unspoken mutual decision that we stopped being friends. One day we just didn’t meet up at the front of the school, before homeroom. And then we stopped hanging out at lunch and talking by the lockers in between classes. It wasn’t just my choice to ditch her.

  But it was my fault that we stopped being friends.

  No. No, she was the one being horrible about me dating Josh, and that was why we argued. I’m free to date whoever I wish.

  I gulp down the last third of my beer in one and say, ‘I have to go to the bathroom.’

  I should just go. I don’t want to make everything weird. She’s got more right to be here than I have.

  Locked in the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the tub feeling queasy, and put my head between my knees. I’m debating what to do, when I hear voices outside.

  ‘What’s she doing here?’ It’s a girl, someone I don’t know well enough to recognize by their voice.

  ‘I know, right? Like I know Todd invited her just because she’s his neighbor, but she didn’t have to come. I just feel so bad for Allie.’ It’s another girl, someone with a higher-pitched voice, but again, I can’t name her. I gulp, and will my heart to slow down so the blood stops roaring in my ears and I can listen to them.

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘And did you see the way she just swanned in here acting like she was friends with everyone? She’s not really wanted here, can’t she see that? Jeez.’

  ‘I thought she looked a bit awkward, though.’ There’s more sympathy in the first girl’s voice now. ‘I feel kind of bad for her.’

  ‘I don’t. She’s such a bitch to Allie.’

  ‘Yeah . . .’ The first girl sighs.

  The other one says, ‘Come on. Let’s just go back downstairs.’

  I hold my breath, waiting to see if one of them will try the bathroom door at all before going back downstairs, but they don’t. I’m shaking all over, and my palms are so sweaty I have to wash them and run cold water on my wrists to try and cool down. They were talking about me, I know they were.

  Nobody wants me here.

  I should go.

  But then again, why am I made out to be the bad guy here? Allie was just as much to blame as me. She started the whole argument in the first place. We’re both at fault and we’re both victims in this. It’s not just her.

  And Todd wanted me here, it wasn’t a pity invitation. He wouldn’t do that. I have just as much right to
be here as Allie does. And if she thinks she can drive me out, she can think again. I’m staying.

  Someone knocks on the door of the bathroom, jolting me back to my senses. I stand up and unlock the door, and Kelly, from my history class, smiles at me as I leave the bathroom and she goes in.

  I can’t help but wonder if it’s a pity smile, or if maybe she’s thinking how big of a bitch I am.

  I start to walk down the stairs, but then I hear movement from Todd’s room; I re-route, pushing open his door, which isn’t fully shut anyway.

  I’m not sure what I expected to see. Maybe people making out. Some people sat around playing spin-the-bottle. I just thought that Todd probably wouldn’t want people in his room, especially with his guitar, and his blue book possibly there for somebody to see.

  The room is dark, and the drapes are billowing wildly – the window is open and the wind is really bad tonight, howling above the distant sound of the music up here. Todd’s silhouette is outlined, hunched on the window seat, arms wrapped around his legs, his head turned away.

  The door creaks slightly as I push it further open to step inside, and he looks over.

  I hesitate in the doorway before taking a couple of steps into the room. ‘Are you all right?’

  He doesn’t answer. I see him shrug, so I push the door closed and walk over to him. He pulls his legs closer into his body to make more space, which I take as an invitation to sit down. The wind pulls at my hair, and Todd’s is windswept, even messier than usual. I note that he’s wearing the T-shirt I gave him. I lean past and shut the window before settling on the window seat.

  ‘Nice shirt.’

  ‘Thanks. I know somebody with good taste.’

  I nod.

  After a while he says, ‘It was just getting a bit too loud.’

  I’m not sure what he means. It’s a small party, and up here, you can barely hear the music – especially with the wind – and none of the guests are being too raucous.

  ‘I’m not following,’ I confess apologetically.

  ‘I don’t suppose you would,’ he says softly, still looking out of the window. There isn’t much to look at, but he doesn’t actually seem to be paying attention to anything out there. ‘I just . . . don’t like my birthday. It’s . . . not . . . the easiest time of year for me.’ Then he blurts out words so fast that they run into each other, vomiting them as though he doesn’t want to keep them in and if he doesn’t say them now he never will: ‘My parents always made a huge deal about birthdays. It was the only time of year they didn’t seem to argue. Since they got divorced, everything’s been weird. I don’t like birthdays so much any more. I know it sounds stupid, so don’t laugh at me. And I’ve been thinking about my granddad a lot, too, lately. I just needed to get away from the party for a bit.’

  I don’t say anything for a moment, because I’m not sure how to respond. He takes a long, deep, shaking breath. I see his fingers fidgeting with the guitar pick again. I put a hand on his free hand because it’s the only thing I can think to do.

  ‘My granddad was really there for me after they divorced. And my birthday, yesterday, it just made me think about him a lot, and . . .’

  ‘I don’t think anybody could get over something like that,’ I say quietly. ‘You know . . . it’s okay . . . to get upset about that kind of thing.’

  He gives a snort of empty laughter. ‘It’s dumb. I don’t know. And it’s really stupid to feel this sad when there is a bunch of awesome people downstairs and . . .’ He shakes his head. Then he reaches to pick up a bottle of beer that is on the floor beside him, and takes a swig.

  ‘It’s not dumb.’ Tentatively, I pry the bottle out of his hands, in case he’s planning on getting wasted just to try to feel better. ‘Do you . . . do you mind if I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure, go ahead.’ He sniffs loudly, and rubs at his eyes with his knuckles.

  ‘I didn’t realize you were friends with Allie.’

  He gives me a wry smile, looking a little less sad now. ‘That wasn’t a question.’

  ‘Right. Sorry. I mean – how do you know her? Are you guys, um, you know . . . good friends?’ I’m too scared to ask him directly if she’s been badmouthing me to him behind my back, telling him I’m horrible and shallow and self-centered or something.

  ‘I wouldn’t say we’re that close,’ he tells me easily. ‘The guys I made friends with in my French class invited me to sit with them for lunch, and she was there, along with a bunch of other people, who are all downstairs now. She’s nice.’

  My stomach churns, and not from the one bottle of beer I’ve had. ‘Yeah, she is.’ At least, she was. I don’t know her any more. For all I know, she bitches about me constantly behind my back and is the reason those other girls don’t like me.

  ‘She told me you guys used to be friends.’

  ‘Oh?’ My heart starts racing again and I sit up straighter. ‘What did she say about me?’

  ‘Just that you used to be friends, like I said, before you got together with Josh.’

  ‘Did she say anything else about me? Todd, tell me. Even if it was really horrible. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.’ I give him what I hope is a convincing smile.

  ‘Honestly, that was all she said about you. I tried to ask her more about what you were like – because this was still the first few days of school and I didn’t know you that well – and she refused to talk about you.’

  ‘Oh.’ I’m not sure how I feel about that; mostly I feel agitated.

  ‘I saw her glaring at you earlier. What happened between you two?’

  Todd’s gray-blue eyes hold mine. They’re filled with gentle concern, and I avert my gaze. ‘We, uh, had a fight. That’s all. It happens, you know?’

  ‘Was it about you and Josh?’

  I wince. ‘Maybe another time, Todd, yeah?’

  If I tell him, he’s going to think I’m a bitch, and he’s going to take Allie’s side because he’s her friend too, and he’s going to hate me. I don’t want that. I can’t tell him all the details.

  ‘Okay.’ He doesn’t even try to press me for more answers because he knows I wouldn’t do that to him.

  I twirl the ends of my hair around a fingertip. I don’t want to tell him all the gory details of how I lost my best friend, but I do confess, ‘I heard a couple of the girls talking earlier, about me. They said that nobody really wants me here, because of the fight me and Allie had.’ I peek up at him from under my eyelashes.

  ‘Bullshit. I want you here. And so do most of the others. They’re nice people, and they’ll give you a chance. Just because some girls were gossiping about you—’

  ‘Yeah, but—’

  ‘Do you know who it was? Because I’ll go talk to them and find out what’s going on.’

  I laugh nervously and put a hand on his shoulder as he starts to stand. But it makes me feel warm all over that he’d defend me like that. ‘That’s okay.’

  ‘You’ll stay though, won’t you?’

  ‘I’ll give it a half hour, at least.’

  He smiles. ‘Deal. And thanks, by the way. For distracting me.’

  ‘Any time.’

  ‘Ready to go back downstairs?’ He stands now, and offers me a hand.

  I draw in a deep breath and hesitate before taking it. ‘Well, it is your party, you’re being rude staying holed away like this, you know.’

  He laughs and as we start downstairs, I notice that he looks a little unsteady; I’m not sure how well he holds his alcohol, or how much he’s had.

  ‘How much have you had to drink?’

  ‘A few.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I think maybe that’s enough,’ I say firmly.

  ‘You sound like your mother.’

  I grimace melodramatically, which makes him laugh again.

  Todd slings an arm around me as we make our way back downstairs, but he doesn’t lean on me like I expected; I don’t push his arm away though. It feels comfort able. And a little bit like a piece of armor to p
rotect me from any glares as we go back into the lounge.

  ‘How about truth or dare?’ he announces as we get into the room. His words don’t slur, but he stumbles slightly as he walks through the doorway.

  One of the boys, Will, calls out laughingly, ‘Where did you two sneak away to?’ He winks, with a pointed look, and I raise a hand to my hair, which I feel is a bit messy from the wind. I bite my lip to keep from making a sarcastic comment back.

  But people are making noises of agreement about truth or dare, and gather into an awkward almost-circle on the floor. Todd takes an empty beer bottle from a nearby nesting table and lurches to put it in the center, spinning it.

  The people who choose ‘truth’ usually get asked about their crush, or their boyfriend/girlfriend and how far they’ve gone with them, or their most embarrassing story. The people who choose ‘dare’ – and they are few and far between – usually get dared to kiss someone, or to do a striptease in the case of one guy (though he keeps his underpants on, thank God).

  I start to think that maybe we’ll all get bored of the game before the bottle can land on me; it’s been about half an hour and so far I’ve been safe. The girl next to me, Amanda, gets up to go to the kitchen for another drink, and the bottle slows to a stop, pointing between me and the empty space.

  Since Amanda’s no longer here, it’s all on me.

  ‘Um . . .’ I weigh up which could be worse. ‘Truth.’

  ‘What’s your biggest regret?’ It’s the girl who was outside the bathroom, I recognize the high-pitched voice. I can see the devious gleam in her eyes, like she’s so proud of herself for being subtly vindictive.

  Everybody gives a big ‘Ooh’ and I roll my eyes, laughing like this question is no big deal and like I don’t know what she was saying about me earlier.

  My biggest regret – easy. She’s sat right across the circle from me, blanking me, like I don’t exist. I regret that I let my friendship with Allie fall apart to nothing so easily and I didn’t try and talk to her about Josh and explain.

  But I don’t want to say that. I won’t give this girl the satisfaction of humiliating me, and I won’t embarrass Allie by saying it either.