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She watched the happy family hug and felt like someone had socked her in the stomach. One of the advantages of going to boarding school, Miranda thought, was that you didn't get invited over to people's houses, never had to see them acting like normal families, having breakfast together. For some reason, whenever she imagined truly happy families, they were always eating breakfast.
Plus people who had normal families didn't go to Chatsworth Academy, "The Premier Boarding Experience in Southern California." Or, as Miranda liked to think of it, Child Warehouse, the place where parents (or in her case, guardians) stored their children until they needed them for something.
With the possible exception of her roommate, Kenzi.
She and Kenzi Chin had lived together for four years, since their freshman year, longer than Miranda had lived with almost anyone. Kenzi came from a perfect-eat-breakfast-together family, had perfect skin, perfect grades, perfect everything, and Miranda would have been forced to hate her if Kenzi wasn't also so completely loyal and kind. And a tinsy bit insane.
Like earlier that afternoon when Miranda walked into their room and found her standing on her head, wearing only underpants, with her entire body slathered in drying mint-colored mud.
"I am so going to be in therapy for the rest of my life to get this image out of my mind," Miranda told her.
"You're going to need to be in therapy that long anyway to deal with your messed-up family. I'm just giving you some TTD material to talk about." Kenzi knew more about Miranda's family history than anyone else at Chatsworth, almost all of it fabricated. The part about it being messed up, though, was true.
Kenzi also really liked acronyms and invented new ones all the time. As she dropped her bag and collapsed on her bed, Miranda asked, "TTD?"
"Totally Top Drawer." Then Kenzi said, "I can't believe you're not coming to prom. I always pictured us going together."
"I don't think Beth would like that too much. You know, being the third wheel."
Beth was Kenzi's girlfriend. "Don't even talk to me about that creature," she said now, giving a fake shudder. "The Beth and Kenzi Show is officially canceled."
"As of when?"
"What time is it?"
"Three thirty-five."
"Two hours and six minutes ago."
"Oh, so it'll be back on by prom."
"Of course."
Kenzi's «cancellations» happened about once a week and never lasted more than four hours. She thought the drama of breakups and the thrill of reconciliation kept a relationship fresh. And in some weird way it seemed to work, because she and Beth were the happiest couple Miranda knew. More perfection.
"Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. I think you're making a grave mistake by missing prom."
"Yeah, I'm sure I'll never forgive myself."
"I'm serious."
"Why? What's the big deal? It's a big dance with a dorky theme. You know I'm dancelexic and should not be allowed out on a dance floor near other people."
"A Sweet Salute to the Red, White, and Blue isn't dorky, it's patriotic. And you do okay with the Hustle."
"I think Libby Geer would disagree with you. If her mouth weren't still wired shut."
"Whatever, prom isn't just a big dance. It's a rite of passage, a moment when we move from who we were into the vastness of the adults we're going to become, throwing off the weight of our youthful insecurities to-"
"— get drunk and maybe lucky. Depending on your definition of luck."
"You'll be sorry if you don't come. Do you really want to grow up miserable and filled with regret?"
"Yes, please! Besides, I have to work."
"TGI as If. You're hiding behind your job again. You could so get one Saturday off. At least be honest about why you're not going."
Miranda gave Kenzi I
"Don't look at me like you're My Little Pony. I have four letters for you: W-I–L-L."
"And I have four letters for you: N-O-P-E. Oh and four more: M-Y-O-"
But Kenzi just went on, ignoring her, something she did professionally. "It's true that Will might need to be vaccinated or screened for diseases after going with Ariel, but I can't believe you're giving up that easily."
Will Javelin filled up about 98 percent of Miranda's dreams. She'd been trying to cut it out since she learned he was going to the prom with Ariel-"I named my new breasts after my family's country houses, does your family have any country houses, Miranda? Oh right, I forgot, you're a foster child"-West, of the West-Sugar-Is-Best! fortune, but it was a challenge. To avoid bad karma Miranda said, "There's nothing wrong with Ariel."
"Yeah, nothing that couldn't be cured with an exorcism." Kenzi came out of her headstand, planting her feet on the floor. She reached for her towel. "At least promise you'll come to the after-party. At Sean's parents' place on the beach? You will, right? We're all going to hang around and watch the sun rise. It will give you a chance to talk to Will outside of school. And when are you going to tell me what happened between you two that other night, anyway? Why are you being so MLAS about it?"
Miranda knew that one. "I'm not being My Lips Are Sealed," she said, picking up a pile of papers on the bookshelf between her and Kenzi's beds and straightening them.
"You're doing that thing again. The thing where you pretend to be Holly Homemaker to avoid having a discussion."
"Maybe." Miranda was looking at the papers now, photocopies of newspaper articles from the past half year. "Purse snatcher caught by mysterious Good Samaritan, found bound to fence with yo-yo," the first and most recent said. Then, from a few months before, "Get a grip: Stickup foiled when robber loses control of gun. Witness says Pez dispenser 'came out of nowhere' to knock weapon from assailant's hand." Finally, from seven months earlier, "Convenience store heist getaway halted by falling lightpost; two arrested." She started to get a sinking feeling in her stomach.
At least it was only three out of, what, a dozen different incidents she told herself. But that didn't really make her feel better. No one was supposed to link any of those events together. Ever.
The convenience store was the first one. It was dusk, fog coming off the ocean, the streetlights making misty halos in the air. She'd been driving down a side street in Santa Barbara on her way to roller derby practice when she'd heard the threats from inside Ron's 24-Hour Open Market #3 and just… acted. She'd had no control over what she did, it was like she was in a dream, her body knowing exactly what to do, where the robbers would go, how to stop them. Coming back to her the way the words from a favorite song did even if you hadn't heard it in years. Only she had no idea where it was coming back from.
She'd spent the three days following the convenience store incident in bed, curled in a ball, trembling. She told Kenzi she had the flu, but really what she had was terror. She was terrified of the powers she suddenly couldn't restrain.
Terrified because using them felt so good. So right. Like she was alive for the first time.
Terrified because she knew what could happen if people found out. To her. And to-
She waved the copies toward Kenzi, demanding, "What are you doing with these?"
"Whoa, Drill Sergeant Kiss in the house," Kenzi said, saluting. "All due respect, ma'am, but as they say in the military, SSTB. You won't get away with changing the subject just by using your scary voice."
SSTB stood for So Sad Too Bad. Miranda couldn't not laugh. "If I were trying to change the subject, army of one, I'd point out that the stuff on your body is flaking all over the rug your mother's decorator tracked over three continents because it supposedly belonged to Lucy Lawless. I seriously want to know, why are you interested in street crime in Santa Barbara?"