Charisma Read Online Free PDF Page B

“I’ll get you some water. That’ll help.”
    He rushes off toward the kitchen. At that moment, my belly lurches and I feel an overwhelming urge to escape from all the kids who suddenly glare my way. I remember seeing a bathroom off the entryway. Now, if I could just walk without falling over. I try. My legs are almost steady now that Jack isn’t around. I make my way inside, and push through the crowd to the bathroom. But it’s locked. No!
    I chant under my breath,
Do not barf. Do not faint.
The seconds tick endlessly. Jack’s probably back with my water. I should run and tell him I need to go home, that I’m sick, yeah, that wouldn’t be hard to convince him of. My stomach cramps. Nope, not running anywhere.
    Finally, the bathroom opens and out pop Jessica and Caleb. I scurry past them, slam the door, and pant as I lean on the sink to hold me up.
    With shaky movements, I wipe my brow with a damp tissue. And then I make the mistake of looking in the mirror. My red-rimmed eyes glare in pain and my mouth opens and shuts repeatedly like a fish. I put a hand under my chin to stop my jaw, but it seems to fight against it. I clasp my mouth, trying to keep it shut, to avoid breathing in any more of this, this, whatever craziness this is. My eyes bulge with pressure. My head goes light. Is this when I’ll completely snap with the inner turmoil that builds up every single day, from when my first conscious sensation is a bolt of fear straight through my chest? My existence is a constant struggle against the world. And now, here I am at a party, a
party,
with way too much alcohol flooding my system.
    I let go of my jaw and clutch the sink with both hands. That’s when the tears, mucus, and muck I’ve been holding in decide to explode. It’s also when someone knocks at the door.
    â€œJust a minute,” I choke out.
    I spend the next five minutes sobbing, trying to wipe myself up as best I can. When the knocking becomes too insistent, I splash my face, dry it off, and stagger out the door.
    A girl I remember from freshman gym class pushes past me. “Bitch.”
    Her hostility threatens to start me crying again. Holding back tears, I make my way toward the patio.
    But Jack isn’t there. Or anywhere in the backyard. I slowly spin around, peering into the dark. Suddenly, a flurry of raindrops begins hitting like missiles, sending everyone rushing for the house. I join the herd. Inside, I hunt through the crammed living room, but Jack isn’t there either. I hold my hands over my ears against sharp techno music that’s turned up so loud the walls echo. It isn’t until I reach the kitchen, where the crowd is densest, that I spot him in the far corner, laughing as if he’s never heard anything so funny. At his side giggles Alexandra, editor of the school paper. Her magazine-worthy face sparkles as they engage in a high-octane tête-à-tête.
    My heart does a free fall. Of course he’s with Alexandra. Why has it taken my straight-A brain so long to figure it out? She and Jack are perfect for each other. Both of them seriously into writing, both naturally gorgeous, and, as much as I hate to admit it, both really sweet. I might be jealous of Alexandra’s easy confidence, but she isn’t one of the mean girls, not by a long shot. Which only makes me feel worse.
    In that moment, the noise and motion swirl around as if I’m at the center of a vortex, being sucked into a black hole. My breathing quickens and I feel sick to my stomach.
Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run.
I don’t have to shine, but I can’t let myself flee. That’s the promise to myself I have to keep.
    The ghost of my tantrum in the bathroom tugs at my brain, begging to be let out again after its taste of wailing and gnashing. Trembling, I back into the living room until I spot Evie on the sofa next to Rafe, in deep conversation. Well, she is. He stares intently