Free I Am Her Revenge by Meredith Moore Page B

boy looks around. I duck behind a wide headstone, pressing my hands against its smooth, cold surface, before he can see me.
    He leaves with whatever party favors he’s acquired, and I stand up and walk toward G-Man.
    I step on a pile of dead leaves. Their crunch gives me away, and G-Man turns around to face me. But he doesn’t seem surprised to see me. Instead, his smile curves up in a knowing way. He has no idea how much he doesn’t know about me.
    “Come for more rainy-day supplies?” he asks, sliding a hand in his pocket and leaning against the gray stone wall surrounding the graveyard, one foot braced against it. He’s trying to look cool, and I’m trying not to roll my eyes.
    I step closer to him, a smile growing on my face. “Something like that,” I murmur.
    His eyes widen a bit as I move even closer to him, invading his personal space for a change. His foot slips off the wall.
    I let my gaze fall to his lips, then drag my eyes back up to his. “How much for a few hits of Molly?”
    He has to clear his throat before he speaks. “It depends.”
    “What do you mean?” I ask innocently.
    He attempts a leer and leans into me. “Well, there’s a friends-and-family discount.” And a discount for popular kids, too, I assume, as long as they invite him to their parties.
    I look up at him through my eyelashes. “And do I count as a friend?” I coo.
    He nods slowly. “I think so.”
    I reward him with a dazzling smile and step back.
    He takes a breath, clearing his head. “How much you want, then?”
    “How much you got?”
    He sells me several pills, enough for a few months, at least. Plenty of time to get Ben addicted to them and addicted to me. It costs me nearly all of the money Mother provided for this task, but not quite. She’ll be pleased with that detail.
    I put the packets in my purse and lean back toward G-Man again. I give him a quick peck on the cheek and hurry away before he can ask for more, then manage to catch the last shuttle of the day.
    I clutch my new sketchbook in my lap all the way back to school, but it’s only when I’m alone in my room that I open the cover and let myself get lost in its pages for a few hours. I try to sketch the house I found beside the graveyard, but it won’t spark to life under my fingers. I rip the wasted pages out and crumple them in frustration. I stick to sketching Ben’s face, showing him as the cocky adversary I must control and destroy.
    When I glance at the clock, it’s almost nine. Mother will be waiting for my call.
    I run to the hall, but there’s another girl on the phone. She chats contentedly with someone, twirling her hair around her fingers as she laughs and says, “That’s ridiculous,” over and over again.
    I hover over her, crowding her until she gives me an ugly glare. “Have to go, Ames. Some bitch wants the phone.”
    I simply raise my eyebrows at her until she finally hangs up and walks away, muttering more nasty names as she goes.
    My fingers tremble as I dial, and I take a deep breath, forcing them to be still.
    She answers on the first ring. “Late” is all she says.
    “Sorry, Mom,” I say, trying to sound happy and privileged and not sorry at all. “There was a line. How are you?”
    “Have you drawn him in?” she asks.
    “I think so. The literary magazine meeting went well,” I hedge, looking around the hall to make sure I’m alone.
    “Not good enough. Have you talked to him yet? Alone?”
    “No,” I admit, waiting for her wrath.
    It comes swiftly. “What on earth are you doing there, then? Wasting time and my money? Don’t think that just because you are off in England I can’t get to you.”
    I hold the phone away from me as she continues shouting her rage through the line. When she stops, I press the phone back to my ear. “I did talk to a new friend, who gave me some not-too-expensive presents.”
    “Fine. But still not good enough.”
    “I am sorry,” I whisper. I don’t put emotion into my voice.