Beautiful Malice by Rebecca James Read Free Book Online Page A

self-conscious. “I just wanted to say that. Just wanted to say that you two are really important to me. My best friends in the world.”
    There’s a brief moment of silence before Robbie claps his hand on his knee and snorts loudly. “Pieces of a jigsaw puzzle? Did I hear you right? Did you really say that?” He looks at me, and his face is transformed by delight, all signs of his earlier concern gone. “Did she really say that?”
    “She did.” I nod. “I think she did.”
    “Oh my God.” Alice covers her smile with her hand. “Okay, I did. But in my defense, I was brought up by a woman who ate Days of Our Lives for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I can’t help it if I’m a walking cliché. It’s petty and mean to laugh at me, Robbie, and you’re always scolding me for that. You hypocrite!”
    “Too bad!” Robbie shakes his head. “Katherine and I want to go to the beach, and you have no excuse for being so difficult. No excuse at all.”
    “Of course I do. I have every excuse in the world. Everything is difficult for me.” She puts her head down, speaks with mock shame. “You see, I have to overcome my upbringing, fight against all my natural inclinations.”
    “I knew it!” Robbie laughs. “You’re secretly a margarine-lover, aren’t you?”
    And the three of us laugh, clutch our stomachs, laugh some more.
    “To be honest”—Alice puts her head down, pretends to be embarrassed—“I love ironing creases in my jeans. I have to force myself not to. It’s hard, but I’m getting there. Overcoming it slowly.”
    And we laugh and make plans for our weekend away. I forget to wonder about what Robbie said about Alice, don’t think to ask him again later. So Alice has a few minor quirks. Don’t we all? I’m too happy to let that bother me. I’m having far too much fun to listen to the tiny little warning voice starting up in my head.

9
    “A nd then what happened?” Carly leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Come on. You can’t stop there.”
    But Rachel was standing in the doorway. Her pajamas were rumpled and her face red and blotched. I could tell she’d been crying.
    “Rach?” I put my arm out. “What’s up?”
    “I had another bad dream.”
    “Oh. Come here. Come and sit with us.” I smiled at Carly in apology. I’d been telling her all about the night before, a night I’d spent with my boyfriend, Will. We’d kissed and touched each other, and almost ended up having sex. Carly had insisted on hearing every detail.
    Carly was my best friend. She was loud and straightforward and funny. When she’d first started at our school I took an instant dislike to her. I thought she was a show-off and that her jokes were stupid. She didn’t like me much, either, at first, and told me later that she’d thought I was, in her words, a snotty, stuck-up rich bitch .
    But Carly and I had become firm friends at camp, a torturous seven days of cold, damp, hunger, and discomfort that was meant to help us “find ourselves.” Carly and I were given the task of cooking together, and we forged an unexpected friendship while battling each night to make something edible from very limited ingredients and dealing with the constant, vocal complaints of the other campers. I was impressed by Carly’s ability to create a joke out of everything, and Carly later told me that she’d admired my fierce determination to make the best of what we had. We’d been inseparable since.
    Rachel sat down on the floor next to me, and I put my arm around her shoulders.
    “The same dream again?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Rachel has been having this really awful dream,” I explained to Carly. “She sees a girl that she thinks she knows, and the girl is smiling, so she walks up to her.”
    “And then the closer I get,” Rachel continued, “the more familiar this girl’s face looks. And at first I’m really happy and excited to see her, I have this really kinda strong feeling of love, as if I know her from somewhere.