She's So Dead to Us

“Yeah. This place would be dead without us,” I joked.

“I know, but these people are all freaks,” A

David laughed, placing his hands in the front pocket of his oversized OHH soccer sweatshirt. “I thought the artsy people were your people.”

A

“She’s right, you know.” Faith Kirkpatrick walked up behind us. The very sound of her voice made my shoulders clench. “And I happen to think you two fit right in.”

She was wearing a tight black turtleneck and black pants, a glittering pink star drawn at the corner of her left eye. Her blond hair was slicked back in a ponytail, and a Chanel purse dangled from the crook of her arm. Just looking at her standing there all high and mighty made me want to punch something. Was she in the car that night when Jake and the Idiot Twins and some unknown driver had left our old lawn jockey on our front step? Had she seen where I was living now? Was that why she had that particularly amused smirk on?

I hated myself for even going there. Hated myself for feeling ashamed that she and the others had seen how far my mom and I had fallen. I should have been—and really was—more pissed about the fact that my mother had cried over their stupid prank. That she’d been forced to spend hours on the phone with the condo board—whose strict exterior decorating codes we’d unknowingly violated—over the weekend trying to explain that it wasn’t ours.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Mrs. Thompson was somehow convinced that the drama club’s presence should be mandatory. Thanks a lot for that,” she said, sneering at A

My face flushed with heat.

“Or you, A

A

“Enough! When the hell did you become such a psychotic bitch?” I blurted.

Faith’s jaw dropped as David guffawed. A few people around us turned to stare as they walked by, their candy apples momentarily forgotten. Maybe what I’d said sounded harsh, but Faith deserved it. A

“What? Speechless? Don’t have an answer?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I’m curious. Do you remember the actual date and time of your supervillain transformation? Was there a scorpion sting involved? A toxic spill? Or maybe you were the victim of one of those organ-snatching rings. They drugged you and you woke up in a tub full of ice with no heart?”

“Screw you, Ally,” Faith said, narrowing her eyes.

“Right back at ya, Faith.”

I couldn’t believe that Faith Kirkpatrick and I were snipping at each other. She was supposed to be a sweetheart, a churchgoer, the person who saw the good in everyone. When exactly had her soul turned black?

“Okay, okay, let’s walk before this gets ugly.” David looped his arm through mine and yanked me away from Faith. A

“You have a mean streak, Ally Ryan,” she said. “Not that I don’t approve.”

“She deserved it,” I exclaimed, throwing out my hands as we approached the hot chocolate booth. “You guys, seriously. What the hell happened to Faith? She used to be Miss Congeniality, and now she’s like Jigsaw on crack.”

“It happened in February of freshman year,” A

“Really?” I said, swallowing hard.

“Yep.”

We inched forward on the line, but my mind was not on hot chocolate. Suddenly, it all made sense. All Faith had ever wanted was for Chloe and Sha

It was my fault. My leaving had turned Faith to the dark side. God. No wonder everyone around here hated me. I had never realized how much my dad’s actions and their consequences had affected everyone. Even A

“Oh my God. Sha

I didn’t even realize my fingers had curled into fists until he spoke, bringing me back to the now, and they unclenched. Sure enough, Sha

“God, why don’t you just say hello to her? Or even better, ask her to the Harvest Ball like you’ve been whining about doing for three years?” A

“No.” He shook his head. But then his eyes suddenly filled with hope. “You think I should?” he asked me.

I didn’t. Not even a little bit. Sha

“Sure. Go for it,” I said, crossing my fingers behind my back in hope.

David was buoyed by my tentative confidence. He stepped out of line and cleared his throat. “Hey, Sha

She paused. Her eyes flicked over him, then me. “What?”

“Um, yeah, I was just wondering. . . . Do you have a date for the Harvest Ball?” he asked in a rush.

I sent Sha

“Actually, I do,” she said. Then miraculously she gave him a kind smile. “But thanks for asking.”

Then she glanced at me quickly, turned, and walked away. For that split second it was as if we were friends again. As if she understood me. As if she cared about someone other than herself. Something other than her insular clique.

“Ouch,” David said.

“Bitch,” A