Devilish Read Online Free PDF Page B

finger.
    “What happened?”
    “She met a guy,” I said. “It didn’t work out. She was really upset.”
    This was a really mild retelling—like saying that the sinking of the
Titanic
was a little problem with a boat on a cold night.
    “There’s more to it than that,” Lanalee said. “Isn’t there? You can tell me. I like her. I just don’t want to say the wrong thing, you know?”
    She cocked her head in a curious manner. I hesitated. I hated this story, but Lanalee had proven herself, both by signing on with Ally and by taking on the A3. She had earned the right to know.
    “Okay,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s not a secret, but she doesn’t like talking about it, so don’t bring it up, okay?”
    “Understood,” she said.
    “Ally really wanted to go to the prom last year,” I said. “School events mean a lot to her. But she had no one to ask.”
    “But there’s a school full of guys right there,” Lanalee said, pointing.
    “They don’t let us mix much here at the gulag,” I explained. “And Ally sometimes finds it hard to meet people in person. So, she went online, to some Boston teen dating site.”
    “Ah,” she said knowingly. “E-love.”
    “She met this guy who called himself Hawkster….”
    “Hawkster?”
    “I know. She got kind of … obsessed. I kept trying to warn her about getting too crazy about someone she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to hear that.”
    “What about this countdown?” Lanalee asked.
    “She started doing this countdown thing, ticking off each week, day, minute, hour, and second to anyone who said hello to her. She texted me at random points to give me the count. She left notes in my locker with times on them and nothing else. One time she wrote ‘5 d, 6 h, 37 m, 14 s’ on the back of my hand. But it was cute—she’s not crazy.”
    “Okay,” Lanalee said with nod. “She was a little wound up. It happens. I’m with you.”
    And she
was
with me. Her face was intent, studious.
    “The thing is,” I went on, “they made this deal that they wouldn’t exchange pictures, or even real names, until a few hours before. Al got all dressed up, had her hair done, everything. She sent off her picture … and the guy went silent. She thought maybe he’d left hishouse already, so she went to the prom and waited. All night she checked her cell phone. She called me at home to have me check her e-mail.”
    “You were at home?”
    “My boyfriend and I had just broken up,” I said, waving my hand. “We weren’t planning on going anyway. The point is, web guy went subsonic. Dead. She waited for three hours before she gave up and called me to go and get her.”
    “Oh, wow,” Lanalee said. “That sucks. Did she ever hear from him?”
    “No,” I said. “She never did. She never really got over it. She always thought it was her picture. It made her hate the way she looks.”
    A black Lincoln Town Car sidled up the drive, carefully plodding its way among the holes.
    “That’s my ride,” she said. “Take this.”
    She reached into her bag and pulled out a small lavender card with her name, address, and phone number printed in dark purple script.
    “My grandmother always gets me these things,” she said. “They’re supposed to be for events,
society
things. Don’t laugh. They’re great to take to parties. Really.”
    I wasn’t laughing. I was feeling the heavy, fine card stock. It had a rosy scent. This kind of little touch, combined with the Bobbin and the driveway stories, meant that Lanalee came from one of
those
families. Those families that went sailing off Newport at spring break, who hadfriends who lived in brownstones or mansions in Federal Hill, and had Uncle So-and-so’s old Yale sweater in the trunk of the car, just in case they needed an extra layer when they went skiing.
    “Have to go,” she said, loping to the car. “But I’ve decided. Allison will be my project for the year. I need one, or I’m not going to be able to cope.