Gerardo Sanchez.
An hour into the party, Gerardo arrived with Nikki Smith clinging to him like kudzu, and he was clinging right back. They were a couple, I knew that in theory―but actually seeing it with my own eyes was too much to take. It set my blood on a long, slow boil, and not even the sight of Marisol on the sidelines without a dance partner could make me feel better.
Each time Marshall and I danced, they were both there dancing, too.
I caught Gerardo's eye, but he didn't acknowledge me. Maybe he was too ashamed or embarrassed by his confession. Maybe he was just freaked that I was there with Marshall.
The thing is, even though I had the best-looking boy in front of me, teaching me dance moves, getting me punch, treating me like I wasn't the Flock's Rest Monster, I knew he wasn't the one I wanted. No matter what Gerardo had done that day at the spelling bee, it was him that I wanted to be holding me in those slow dances, with those clumsy hands and those skinny arms.
But those skinny arms were wrapped around Nikki, and I began to hate her like I hated Marisol.
The boiling in my blood started making its way to my brain, and I started doing some crazy things.
I watched Gerardo and Nikki dance, so I danced harder with Marshall. I watched how close they danced in the slow numbers, and I pulled Marshall that close to me whether he liked it or not.
"Uh, Cara, I think we should sit this one out," Marshall said.
"No," I told him. "You said we're gonna have a good time, and I say I want to dance."
I half expected him to storm away, but he didn't.
Then, as the night got later, and all the dances started to become slow, the jealous vein throbbing through my body just hemorrhaged, until it was all I could feel.
And that's when I saw it.
I saw Gerardo look into Nikki's eyes, and pull her into that perfect embrace in the middle of a slow song. They kissed, and kissed, and didn't stop.
I looked to Marshall. He looked at me with some kind of terror in his eyes, but I didn't care. I grabbed him by the tie, pulled him toward me, and planted a kiss on him, the likes of which he will never forget.
With all of his jock strength, he could not pull away. I had him locked in that kiss like a boot on a car tire―and the couples around us pulled back until we were there, standing by ourselves. His arms, which had at first been struggling, were now limp, weak, like a rag doll.
That'll show him, I said to myself. That'll show Gerardo. He can have Nikki, but look at me. I've got Marshall Astor!
Finally, I let Marshall go, and he stepped away, catching his breath. His mouth opened and closed a few times, like a fish that had flipped out of its bowl.
"Uuugggghhhh!"
He brought the back of his hand up to his mouth, wiped his lips, and didn't stop there. He practically put his whole hand in his mouth, rubbing at his gums and teeth, as if he could just pull the kiss out. And when he realized that the kiss just wasn't going away, he started to go a little bit pale.
"Forget this," he said. His eyes were locked on me, and the expression of horror and helplessness on his face made me, for the first time, truly feel like the monster they said I was.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his car keys, and hurled them at me. They hit my dress and jangled to the ground.
"Nothing is worth this," he said. "Tell your father he can keep his car! I don't want it!" His face started to pass through several shades of green. His cheeks swelled.
Then he turned, looking for the nearest trash can, but the closest thing he found was, unfortunately, the punch bowl.
I didn't think he would do it, but that kiss must have been so disgusting to him, nothing could stop nature now. And before the whole school, Marshall Astor threw up into the homecoming punch bowl.
10
Tempest and a teapot
I tore out of the party faster than Cinderella at midnight, and I left no shoe behind. I didn't leave those car keys behind, either; I picked them up before I headed out. The jealousy I felt just moments before had played itself out, and all that remained was humiliation. This time those kids in there hadn't played a trick on me―I had played the trick on myself.
I didn't know who to be more horrified by: myself for what I had done; Marshall, for finding me so utterly repulsive; or my father, who, in his misguided desire to see me happy, had offered Marshall Astor a used car from his lot in return for taking me to the homecoming dance.
Is that the going rate for spending time with me? I thought. A Chewy for your troubles?
Well, I had the keys to that car now. The lot was speckled with rain, and a chill in the wind made it clear that these were the first drops of a storm. Let it rain, I thought. Let their tailored suits and chiffon dresses get drenched and ruined. Let lightning strike and take down the power, so there'll be no more slow dancing for anyone.
I got behind the wheel and peeled out of that parking lot before anyone could come out and stop me. When Momma had taught me to drive, she angled the mirrors away from me. But these weren't. I caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. It shattered. Little bits of glass were next to me on the front seat, and I thought of the sliver of glass Gerardo had kept. Did it mean anything at all to him? Did he think of it once while he was in there with his lips firmly pressed against Nikki Smith's freshly cleaned teeth like a sucker fish? The fact that I even cared just made me feel worse.
I knew I couldn't go home. I couldn't face my parents now, especially my father, knowing the part he had played in this. There was only one person to talk to now. The woman whose clouded eyes couldn't see me.
It started to rain heavier, and the windshield wipers pounded out a drumbeat, primal and ominous. Now the tears I'd been holding back―not just today, but all my life―burst from my eyes, so that I could barely see. The tears were full of all the things I could never be. All the dreams denied me because of a face too hideous to see its own reflection.
The sobs came with such strength, I couldn't catch my breath. The tears blurred my vision even more than the rain. I never even saw the gate of Vista View Cemetery until I plowed through it, crashing it open. I flew around the curves of the road winding up the hill and skidded to a halt at the top, right in front of Miss Leticia's house. A white van and an expensive car were in the driveway. I didn't stop to think what they might be doing there. Instead I ran to the front door and pounded and pounded and pounded until she finally answered.
"Cara? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, honey, this ain't a good time at all." She looked careworn in a way I'd never seen before.
"Please, Miss Leticia―let me come in! I have to talk to you, I just have to!"
She looked past me, into the rain. "You here alone?"
"Yes."
She sighed. "All right, then. Come on in―but only for a bit."
She led me quickly past the darkened living room and into the kitchen. "Whose cars are out front?" I asked. "Do you have guests?"
"Yes," she said. "Guests." She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and practically forced me down into it. "You sit right here, and I'll be back in a minute. Don't you move from that spot!"
"I won't."
I was so relieved to be there, out of the rain, away from my life, it didn't hit me how odd she was acting. I was cold and her house was warm, that's all I cared about right then. Then I saw something else that could warm me up. Miss Leticia's tea tray was right there on the kitchen table. I poured myself a cup. The tea was light-colored―not like the tea she usually made. When I picked up the cup, there was no steam coming from it. It was cold. Well, I thought, her tea was something special, hot or cold. I brought it up and smelled it, trying to identify what kind it was. It had a grassy, bitter smell.