Kasey Screws Up the World Read online

  I raised my other eyebrow at him.

  “Not that!” He nudged my shoulder with his. “I promise, this is all PG.”

  The elevator door dinged open, revealing a hallway with black marble floor and wood panel walls. Finn kept quiet as he led me. I wanted to think of something to say, but nothing clever came to my head. It seemed I could only be sarcastic with him when provoked. “Where are you taking me?”

  He stopped in the middle of the corridor and pushed me against the wall. The wooden panels felt cool as they brushed my arm. He propped his hands up by my neck and ensnared me. I didn’t want to move a muscle. He leaned in close. My eyes closed, and I braced for a kiss.

  Instead he leaned into my ear and whispered, “Be patient, Vicky.”

  “That’s Victoria to you.”

  He turned his body to keep walking, but before I knew what I was doing, I pulled him back to me so that his chest slapped against mine. Once I had him there, I waited for him to make the next move. He just watched me with a smile playing on his lips. I could do this. Standing on tiptoes, I raised my chin, cupped my hand on the back of his head, and pressed my lips against his.

  His mouth moved against mine and his hands rubbed down my sides before he broke away. The kiss made me shiver all over.

  “You’re a bad girl.”

  I gave him innocent puppy dog eyes. “I thought a little PG-thirteen couldn’t hurt.” I peeled myself off the wall and clasped my hand in his again. He led me to the end of the hallway and stopped in front of a door.

  “We’re here.” He nodded toward the wall.

  Above the door, a large sign illuminated the hallway a shocking pink. PARADISE: Teen Disco. In smaller letters a sign beneath it read: Seventeen and under.

  “You and me. Dancing. Tonight.” He brushed the bangs out of my face. “Screw those losers in their adult bar. We can have much more fun.”

  My stomach dropped. “Can’t wait.”

  It was the first lie that seemed like the truth.

  Displaying 2 out of 7 comments.

  Lonnie said…

  Hmmmmmmmmm. This post is interesting. Very very interesting.

  Ali said…

  *popcorn*

  I USED TO BE able to hide at school, invisibility by way of unpopularity. The dance team girls would wave to me in the hallway but everyone else generally ignored me. Now, as I bypassed a cluster of girls on my way to my Spanish classroom, they whispered in hushed voices. When I glanced in their direction, they clamped their mouths shut, slammed their lockers, and moved on. Except one glanced back at me before leaning into her friend to report her findings.

  My neck prickled as I imagined these strangers sitting at the computer, reading the most intimate details of my life.

  A wave of snickering laughter nearby made me twist the doorknob to my Spanish classroom so hard, the door came flying toward me. I slipped inside and let go. The slam of the door behind me made my teeth clench.

  I spotted Lonnie at the back of the room and the tension eased from my neck. He hadn’t been in any of my classes besides lunch on Schedule A and B days and I’d skipped C yesterday, which made this my only chance to have a friend in class. Unfortunately, English Lit with Denise didn’t count.

  Now that I knew I definitely wouldn’t be getting any sort of dance scholarship to college like Lara, I had to actually count on my grades to get me in. Which meant I should be sitting in the front of the room like a kiss up instead of lounging with the slackers in the back. But then I’d be alone.

  I commandeered the seat next to him and rifled through my backpack, searching for my Spanish textbook. The only one in there was Western Civ. Only four days into the school year and already my backpack was as messy and unorganized as my life.

  “Nine A.M.?” Lonnie said out of nowhere, making me jump. The Western Civ book slid from my hands and smacked onto the floor, right next to Lonnie’s acoustic guitar case emblazoned with the words Property of Manhattan Preparatory. He was in a band called Dyslexia, but they spelled their band name backwards—Aixelsyd—which always confused random patrons at the coffee shop where they used to play on Friday nights.

  They didn’t play anymore.

  He didn’t bother to help me pick up the books. I felt equally relieved and disappointed.

  “It’s already ten thirty. Remember, you had gym at nine?” I straightened and pressed the back of my palm to his forehead. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m not asking the time.” The corners of Lonnie’s lips quirked upward.

  And then it hit me. “Oh! You weren’t supposed to figure that out.” I avoided his eyes.

  Lonnie stroked his chin with his fingertips. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  Chatter ratcheted up to maximum capacity as the other students tried to squeeze in their conversations during the last minute before the bell rang. A few people at the front of the classroom craned their necks to look at me. One guy raised his eyebrows at me a few times in succession and I knew he was probably imagining the kissing scene. Imagining that I might be interested in reenacting it with him. This wasn’t exactly the spotlight I wanted. The infamous girl who screwed up her sister’s life and now exploited it for all to see.

  “Thoughts?” I asked.

  Lonnie ran a hand through his shaggy bangs. “Well, I hadn’t really thought about it until now.”

  “And?” I watched him out of the corner of my eye, unsure what I wanted his answer to be. But then I reminded myself what I needed it to be.

  “I have a lot to think about.”

  After class, I picked up my backpack while Lonnie grabbed his guitar. “I’ll meet you at lunch. I have to drop this off in the music room first.” He patted the guitar case.

  “Pfft, do it after. It will make an excellent companion in the cafeteria. All the girls will be swooning, trust me.”

  “Fine, woman.” He followed me into the hallway.

  I sidestepped around a few slow walkers idling in the middle of the hallway. Didn’t they know it was illegal to walk slowly in NYC? What were they, tourists?

  When we rounded the corner toward the cafeteria, we turned directly into Ali and Denise’s path. Of course. I immediately stopped in my tracks, torn between fleeing and facing them head on. Ali made the decision for me as she stomped right up to us. Denise hung back, swaying in the middle of the hallway as if she couldn’t make up her mind which direction to go. Finally, she squared her shoulders and matched Ali’s gait stride for stride until they blocked our path like a guard rail.

  Lonnie popped his collar. “Ladies, stop following me around. Seriously. It’s getting ridiculous.”

  Denise’s face twitched. I took a tiny step away from him, closer to her.

  “Damn. Guess the rumors aren’t true.” Ali waited a moment for my response. Around us, students stopped their slow amble to class, swiveling their heads in our direction.

  My pulse pounded rock band hard in my veins. I glued my lips shut and stared at my opponents. I wouldn’t give Ali the satisfaction of an answer. The sneer on her face wavered. As much as she was name number one on my shit list, I let her down this summer, too. She had a right to hate me.

  She tsked. “When you didn’t show yesterday, people wondered if you transferred,” she clarified, despite my lack of response.

  “Translation.” Lonnie turned to me. “She missed you soooooo much yesterday.”

  Ali pressed a single finger to his chest and shoved him aside, slipping into the gap between us and effectively shutting him out of the conversation with her back to him. “Anyway, too bad your brilliant plan to get popular backfired. Looks like no one gives a fuck about you. No one even commented on the last two posts!”

  “I didn’t start the blog to get popular. It’s for you guys, not me.”

  Denise stood ramrod straight, perfecting her victory at the silent treatment. She looked everywhere except the guitar case in Lonnie’s hands.

  “And everyone else is only reading to watch you fa
il.” Ali gave me one more exaggerated roll of her eyes before she stalked past me, her swagger accentuated in the swing of her hips.

  Denise hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder and took a step in Ali’s direction—in my direction—but I grabbed the hem of her shirtsleeve. “Did you read it?”

  She stopped despite the flimsy hold I had on her. Minutes passed. Hours. The crowd that had gathered started to disperse. Finally, Denise sighed and turned to me. The happy carefree expression she always wore melted into droopy lips and sad eyes. “Yes, I read it.” Her eyes flicked to Lonnie, who remained there like a silent English guard. “But I’m starting to regret it.”

  “Lonnie, can you give us a minute?” I said.

  “See you in History, Denise.” He lifted the guitar case and waved it in the air, walking backward through the hallway as he did so, heading toward the music room.

  Denise whipped her head to me, her sad eyes suddenly angry. “Kasey, I can’t believe you.”

  I dropped my hand from her sleeve. “I can explain.”

  “That’s entirely the problem!” Denise cupped her temples with her palms. She lowered her voice as several onlookers turned their attention back to us. Though I knew she was just trying to avoid being overheard, the way she leaned in close to me, conspiratorially, reminded me so much of the two of us sitting in the back of Pre-Calc last year, trading answers and gossip whenever our teacher turned to face the board. “When you said you were going to reveal secrets, I didn’t think you’d reveal mine!”

  Sweat beaded in the crooks of my armpits. “I didn’t!” Her annoyed expression begged to differ. “At least, I tried not to. I didn’t post any names.”

  “You posted enough.”

  She was right. After all, Lonnie had figured it out.

  “Just do me a favor and leave me out of your blog entirely from now on.” As if to punctuate her statement, the warning bell blared in the hallway. She used that as her opportunity to twist away from me—and in her mind, out of my life.

  “I’m going to make it up to you,” I gave her a head start to lunch, but called after her. “I swear!”

  At least I hoped I would.

  SO YOU THINK YOU CAN TRANCE

  Posted by Kasey at 7:48 P.M.

  Thursday, September 4

  Past Mood: Shy

  SAT Word Of The Day: Muster. Definition: not the boat drill kind, the courage kind

  Deleting this blog entirely will not erase my actions. That’s the thought that pesters at me as I type out more of this story.

  The auditorium filled up fast. I couldn’t believe how many people were trying out for the ship’s talent show. Or maybe, like me, they came to watch the hopefuls. I was only here to support my sister. Lara needed this—wanted this—more than I did. To me it was just a cheesy cruise ship competition. To her it was the first step in her career.

  Lara’s leg bounced up and down, shaking the entire row of seats. I touched her shoulder, stopping just short of massaging it in a pep-talk pump like coaches always do in movies before a big game. “You’re better than everyone else here. You’re the reason the dance team is going to Nationals in the fall. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Lara rolled her eyes at me.

  Hayden whispered in her ear, a little too-loudly. “And I don’t think that skirt is going to hurt your chances.”

  She had changed into a short skirt and glitzy top she thought would be more appropriate for the try-out than her bikini. I, personally, didn’t see a difference.

  Finn leaned over me to address my sister. He cupped a hand on my thigh to steady himself, and I turned into a statue, barely even breathing. “Don’t worry. This one,” he nodded at his brother, “came in last night raving about your moves. I think you’ll do fine.”

  I slumped in my chair. Finn sunk down in his chair too, trying to be funny, I’m sure, but it only came off as mocking me.

  Lara pushed back her shoulders. She seemed to have found new confidence from the boys’ encouraging words, but then I caught her taking a few deep breaths.

  “I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the special performance of hit reality show Next American Dance Star later in the week.” The cruise director, Jorge, paused dramatically as he stood on stage holding on microphone. “But here’s your chance.” He pointed at the audience. “To show them up.”

  Lara nodded in agreement.

  “Let’s get our first victims—I mean, contestants—up to the stage.” Jorge explained how the dance instructors would teach hopefuls a short routine to weed out potentials for the dance portion of the talent show. The audience would then vote on the winners.

  Lara rose from her seat and practically teleported to the stage. I crossed my legs, planting my feet firmly on the floor. Finn was already halfway out of his chair and tugging on my arm. “We’re so trying out, too.”

  “I—I just want to watch.” My eyes flicked to the stage and the crowd gathering there, consisting mostly of curvy women and a girl who could barely balance in her flip-flops. A weird thought rushed through me: I might be better than them.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.” He stretched my arm into a straight line.

  Lara waved at me from center stage before facing the audience. I might be better than the others, but I would never be better than her. All those times I was benched as an “alternate” in our dance team competitions while Lara starred in the routine proved it. And I knew I’d only made the Varsity team because she had so much pull with my teammates. Besides, Lara needed me here, in the audience, leading the vote for her. “I don’t want to compete against my sister.”

  “So don’t compete. Just have fun.” He leaned in to me, so close his lips brushed against my ear. My breath stilled and then went rapid, as if it couldn’t make up its mind. “Do it for me.”

  God, he was so cute, and there was a part of me, way deep down, that did want to impress him. That hoped I could. If that was my only goal, then I had no one to lose against. I’d only be competing with myself.

  I let Finn pull me to the stage.

  When we reached the platform, Lara whipped her head to me. “You’re trying out?”

  Her sharp words unraveled all my confidence. “No.” I looked at Finn. “I figure if I suck enough, it’ll help you stand out more.”

  “Oh.” She nodded at me. “Good idea.”

  The ship’s staff dancers lined everyone up in three rows. Lara pushed her way to the front. Finn and I stayed in the back, where I belonged. The cruise director announced they’d be teaching us the group dance from last season’s Next American Dance Star finale. Even though I was only staring at the back of Lara’s head, I could imagine the knowing smile on her face. She’d figured out every dance move and the dance team had performed it at the Regionals competition. She liked to put that credit down as both “choreographer” and “director” on her resume even though technically Ms. Winslow had done the choreographing.

  We all moved our legs left and right to the count of eight. The steps came naturally to me, like it was part of me, and I relished each stomp of my foot in sync with the music. I knew the moves as well as Lara, and I gracefully transitioned to them while the other contestants moved with jerky stop-motion shifts to the next step. I gave in to the way each twirl and each stomp seemed to give me power. I forgot an audience was watching me.

  I forgot I might be someone worth watching.

  Until I caught Finn’s eye. He’d stopped moving, mouth parted. That expression was enough to trip me up. I missed the next step. The rest of the contestants spun in place, moving on to sixth count while I was still stuck on fourth. Finn stopped his own spin and joined me in my spastic movements, copying my lead instead of the instructor’s.

  I blinked back instinctive tears. I shouldn’t be so disappointed that I’d achieved the fake goal I’d given my sister: looking like a fool to make her shine. A pang of guilt rushed through me as I realized I’d also forgotten about her progress in favor of my own
.

  “Excuse me.” Lara raised her hand, and the dance instructor stopped in mid box step. This must be her way to stand out. My neck prickled and I hated the thought that attacked my brain. Why didn’t I think of that? I tugged at my cover-up and debated tossing it off the stage and only wearing my new leotard. The instructor nodded at my sister with feigned interest and I dropped my hands back to my sides.

  “These steps aren’t right. We’re supposed to dip here and do this.” Lara bent low and jumped up, reaching her hands as she spun in mid-air and kicked her leg high to match the height of her hands. “And then we shimmy like this.” She demonstrated that step as well.

  The entire room remained quiet. All eyes settled on my sister. I took a small step back into the shadows.

  “We simplified the steps for teaching purposes.” The instructor faced the audience. “But hey! This is a competition. Go all out with it.” He leaned forward, gesturing at Lara with one hand. “Only she’ll be off beat.”

  “Then let me show everyone how to do it right. The hard way. I can teach anyone to do this. Kasey, come here.” She turned around and waved her hand toward her chest. Her eyes pleaded with me.

  My stomach did its own dance inside my body.

  “Go.” Finn nudged me with his shoulder.

  “No,” I said through clenched teeth. Every muscle in my body ached to go, and the only thing holding me back now was will power. I wanted to help my sister, but I didn’t trust myself. Because I also wanted to steal the spotlight for myself.

  The crowd shifted in their seats. My armpits grew sweaty from the stage lights and the pressure. The pumping in my heart was so audible; I could have danced to it in perfect rhythm.

  A smirk grew on the dance instructor’s face. Finn stepped forward to join Lara in the front. He winked at me as he took his spot next to her. “Name’s Kasey. It’s a unisex name, after all.”

  I couldn’t believe what Finn had done for me. He saved Lara from embarrassment. He saved me from embarrassing her. Or myself. I hoped hoped hoped it was the latter. Otherwise, I was a horrible person.