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'Are you kidding? I've been everywhere." She wipes an invisible stream of sweat from her
forehead. "Never thought to look in the library. Have you been in here all this time? I'm surprised
your skin isn't sallow See what studying does to you? Shuts you off from civilization." She
points toward my evil books.
'A little civilization severance is fine with me tonight." "No deal," she says. "We have major
business to attend to.''
"I think I can take a hint," Chad says. He turns to me. "I'll talk to you later."
I nod, half-wanting him to stay, but knowing he can't. Drea, Amber, and I need to make a plan
for tomorrow.
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"See ya," Amber says, hula-dancing a goodbye to him. And just as soon as he rounds the corner,
she grabs my arm. "Dish."
"What?" I say, smiling. "Nothing."
"You two were way too cozy for nothing. Dish." "I should really be mad at you," I say.
"Oh yeah," she says. 'About the joking. Look, I'm sorry, all right? It's not every day one of your
best friends pisses her pants while bunking up with the guy she's panting for. Total tease
material. Tell me you wouldn't."
"I'm not bunking up with him."
"Whatever. Not exactly flattery, Stace. A few moans would have done the trick."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Hey, don't sweat it. I should really be giving you an award for bravery. I think I'd head for
Siberia if that happened to me. You just came to the library"
"Thanks," I say, giving up on an explanation for now. "So are we cool?"
"I guess," I say.
Amber clutches me close like a favorite doll and then pushes me away. "So what's with the piss
anyway?" "It's been happening since the nightmares."
"Freakish."
"Believe me, I'm not too proud of it myself."
"Have you gone to a doctor?"
"Too humiliating. But I went on the Internet. I guess it's fairly common if you have a small
bladder."
"Do you?"
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"No. Which leads me to believe that in some sick, twisted way, my wetting the bed is my body's
way of telling me something."
"And what's it trying to say?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"So yucky." She smacks her hand over her mouth and crosses her legs.
"I know"
We leave the library and head to the dorm to meet Drea, the last person on Earth I want to see,
never mind work with. It's not every day your best friend makes you feel like some freakish
character straight out of a Steven King novel: Stacey Brown, coed by day, psychic bed-wetter by
night. Of course, I suppose, it's also not every day one finds their best friend in bed with their ex.
I remind myself of this last part all the way through the lobby, down the hallway, and into the
room.
Drea is lounging on her bed, one hand propping a chocolate bar up to her bottom lip, the other
writing in her diary. She takes a bite and chews over her thought, jotting down her last few
words, trying to act as though I'm not important enough to ruffle her.
The sight of her calm little self makes me want to rip the pen right out of her hand and scribble
all over her face. I clench my teeth, hearing her voice play over and over again in my head:
Stacey wets the bed. Stacey wets the bed. Stacey wets the bed.
"Hi Amber," she says, not looking up.
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"Hey" Amber brushes by me. She plops herself down on my bed and pauses; "You did change
the sheets, didn't you?" Bitch.
"How are we supposed to plan when Veronica's not here?" Amber asks.
"I already called her," Drea says. "She's not coming." "What do you mean not coming?" Amber
asks.
"I mean she wants us to leave her alone. She actually
thinks I'm the one behind all this stalker business."
"You don't just change your mind like that," Amber says. "It's called being a woman," Drea says.
"We have the prerogative."
"We need to go there," I say, finally. "We have to convince her."
"Stacey's right," Amber says.
"Fine," Drea says. She caps her pen, gets up, and pockets the chocolate bar in lieu of the
protection bottle. "But honestly, I think we're on our own."
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tw-cuty-five_
It takes a few minutes of knocking and waiting before Veronica actually opens her door. "Can't
you take a hint?" she asks, between clenched teeth.
"Not really, Snotty," Amber says, barging her way into the room.
"Excuse me?" Veronica says.
"No sweat." Amber makes herself at home on a fuchsia- pink beanbag chair. "Isn't this the
cutest?"
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Veronica's room is dripping in shades of pink, making it look like a bedroom straight out of
Barbie's dream house.
"I told you guys already," Veronica says. "I'm too old to play Nancy Drew"
"Screw Nancy Drew," Amber says, peering into the magenta telescope by the window. "I want to
be a Charlie's Angel."
"Well, you've come to the wrong place." Veronica keeps a hand on the door, waiting for us to
leave.
"Look, Veronica," Drea begins, "this isn't exactly my idea of a fun time either, but we need to
help each other. You said so yourself."
"Well, I've said a lot of stupid things in my lifetime." "No doubts there," Amber says.
Veronica flings the door closed. "I already told you. I want nothing to do with this anymore."
"Look, Veronica," I say, "I know you said you think this is all some hoax, but what if it isn't?
Don't you think you should take as many precautions as possible? I mean, the guy says he's
coming for you tomorrow"
But Veronica doesn't answer. She just stands there, super-rigid, eyes rolled toward the ceiling.
"Wait," Drea says. "What's that?" She takes a couple steps toward Veronica's dresser, her eyes
locked on a chunk of white fabric sticking out from the jewelry box.
"What?" Veronica asks.
Drea presses the scalloped trim between her fingers. "This is my handkerchief." She pulls on it,
tugging out an extra inch of fabric, revealing the embroidered D of her initials. "What's it doing
here?" Drea tries pulling up on the lid, but the box is locked.
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"What do you think it's doing here?" Veronica pulls the key necklace from around her neck to
unlock the box. "You gave it to me. Stuffed it inside my mailbox." She dangles the handkerchief
over Drea's nose.
"Why would I do that?" Drea snatches it out of Veronica's hand and traces her fingers over the
stitched initials, D. O. E. S.
"Wait," I say, taking the handkerchief. "This is the same one that got mixed up in the wash when
I was doing my laundry, when everything was stolen."
"The laundry was stolen?" Drea asks.
"Yeah. The stalker has your pink bra, by the way" "Thanks for that image," Amber says.
"The point is, Veronica, that whoever stole the laundry is the one who gave this to you," I say.
"Plus, even if it was Drea, why would she go stuffing her things into your mailbox? It would just
give her away"
"To tell you the truth," Veronica says, "I have no idea what her logic is. But I want no part of it."
Drea takes the handkerchief back and pats the fabric between her palms. "My mother gave me
this on my tenth birthday. I'd never give it up."
"Why should I believe anything any of you has to say?"
"Because, whether you like it or not, Veronica, there's a good chance something's going to
happen tomorrow" I say.
"It'll happen tonight, if you don't leave me alone." Veronica rips the handkerchief out of Drea's
hands.
"Give it back--now!" Drea moves to snatch it back, but Veronica's too quick. She locks the
handkerchief back up in the jewelry box.
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"I'm not leaving here without it," Drea says.
"Yes, you will," Veronica's eyes narrow, "because all I have to do is show that to campus police,
along with all those letters you've been sending, and get you thrown out of school."
"Can we see the letters?" I ask. "To compare them to Drea's?"
"You can see the door," Veronica says.
"You wouldn't call campus police on us," Drea says, would you?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]