My Life in Black and White by Natasha Friend Read Free Book Online Page B

one after the other. They reminded me of the conga line at my cousin Jody’s wedding. Only this time the band wasn’t playing “La Bamba,” and my father wasn’t laughing. His expression was downright grim. Reckless driving, his face said. Reckless endangerment. Criminal prosecution. Compensatory injuries. DUI.
    The conga line stood there. For a second, my one eye locked with Taylor’s, and a thousand flashbacks came over me. The two of us dressed as carrots in the school play. Sack racing across the green on July Fourth. In matching bubble dresses at the seventh-grade formal. Flopped on the LeFevres’ couch, watching The Exorcist , grabbing each other’s hands during the scary parts. One happy snapshot after another until up pops Taylor in a kelly-green halter and matching miniskirt, guilty as sin, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as if to erase what she’s just done.
    Suddenly, there were eight mouths too many sucking oxygen out of the room. Taylor’s mouth, shiny with lip gloss. Jarrod’s mouth, two slabs of rubber, one slimy, probing, sour-cream-and-onion tasting— Oh God .
    My throat was squeezing shut.
    I focused on the ceiling tiles, trying to breathe, but that didn’t help. So I heaved my legs over the side of the bed and lunged for the bathroom, dragging the IV pole along with me.
    “Alexa?” my mother called from across the room. “Honey, are you okay?”
    No, I am not okay. I am not okay because … well, because I just remembered this crazy thing I did.
    I kissed Jarrod LeFevre.
    Correction, I let Jarrod LeFevre kiss me .
    We were getting into his car and—given the hideousness of the scene I’d just witnessed between Taylor and Ryan and the beer I’d just chugged in the LeFevres’ kitchen—I was feeling more than a little deranged. So when Jarrod looked at me and said, point blank, how hot I was, I sort of giggled. “Oh, really?” I said. And he said, “Yeah. Really.” Taylor’s brother had been flirting with me for years, and I had never given him the time of day. Now, I was flirting back. I had the sudden realization that Jarrod was about to kiss me, and when he leaned in to make his move, I did nothing. I didn’t say no. Or stop. Or, “Get off me, numnuts, your breath stinks.” I did … nothing.
    “Lex?” My father’s voice was at the door. “You okay in there?”
    I stood at the sink, staring down at a bottle of antimicrobial soap. There was a mirror on the wall, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Not yet.
    I thought about telling my dad I was sick so he’d send the LeFevres home, but I couldn’t give Taylor the satisfaction. Taylor and her stupid cork-soled sandals with the four-inch heels, the same ones she was wearing the night of the party. I wanted to kick her right in the knobby knees.
    “Lex?” my dad said again.
    I turned on the water. Screw Taylor, I thought as I pumped soap into my cupped palm. The smell was so strong my eyes burned. Screw Jarrod, too. I dried my hands on the hem of my hospital johnny.
    What were they even doing here? That was the question. Probably their parents dragged them, because no way would they show their faces voluntarily.
    “ There she is!” Taylor’s father boomed as I emerged from the bathroom. His voice sounded fake, more like a game-show host than a sportscaster. Let’s tell the lovely lady what she’s won, folks! … A lifetime supply of antimicrobial soap!
    Knowing Mr. LeFevre as I did, his smile was an act. Back home, he must have blown a gasket about the party. Yelled. Thrown things across the room. He’d probably placed Taylor and Jarrod under house arrest, letting them out just to visit me.
    “Beans?” My father’s voice was low in my ear. His hand was on my elbow. “You okay?”
    I nodded, fixing my gaze across the room. From the waist down, Mr. LeFevre and Jarrod were twins. The same tan, hairy legs. The same shiny brown loafers without socks.
    How could a guy who sweats as much as Jarrod possibly