Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

“Whoa!” shouted Marianne. “That so has nothing to do with this. I’m not mad, only shocked. It’s just that...” Marianne stopped for a second to work out a tactful way to say it. There was no tactful way, though. “Georgia, don’t you know that Alvin is a total douche bag?”

Georgia watched her with wide eyes. “Oh, of course I know that!” she cried with a smile. “But you really aren’t upset that I’m seeing him?”

Sputter, sputter, sputter. “What?” Marianne finally managed. “If you know he’s a douche bag, then why are you doing it?”

Georgia shrugged, the smile still on her face. “Oh, you know... better than nothing.”

“No! No! No!” Marianne really thought she might be going crazy. She must have been really drunk, because staring at Georgia was starting to feel like looking in the mirror, even with the difference of hair color. “That’s a horrible reason. It’s false; it’s a waste of time. You can’t do that.”

“I know,” said Georgia, looking down. “I know it’s pathetic, but you know...”

And Marianne did know. The alcohol shifted her reality again, and suddenly, she and Georgia were like sisters, but stronger. It was a funky, girly, soul mate connection. Even though Patrick had changed Marianne’s circumstances, she was still Georgia’s sister on the inside. She and Georgia were the children of the same mother, the spawn of Desperation. “It’s not pathetic,” said Marianne, sitting down next to her. “I understand what you mean.”

Georgia smiled at her, not believing at all that Marianne understood. But it was true, man, it was so true. Marianne could spout opinions and judgments about how wrong it was to settle for Alvin, she could claim how she’d learned so much from her mistakes and it had all worked out for her, but anything she said would be a lie.

Marianne bent down and snatched a little leafy twig off the pavement. No one was talking at the moment, and Marianne didn’t have anything to say, either. She fanned herself with the little twig—not that the twig was capable of actually fanning her—and she looked away from the other girls into the darkness. Now she had another item to add to her list of inadequacies. Marianne had already figured out that she was incapable of affecting Patrick. There was nothing in herself that she could point to and say, “That’s why he loves me. That’s why he chose me. That’s why he’ll stay.” She didn’t think it was possible to sink any lower in her own estimation, but here it was: She hadn’t even been rad enough to choose Patrick when she saw him.

What the hell kind of idiot was she? A sensible girl would have been waiting patiently and watchfully for just the right guy to come along, but not Marianne! Just like Georgia, she’d been flailing around in desperation after greasy black slugs just to have something. Marianne hadn’t been broken up with Alvin for even twenty-four hours before she’d met Patrick—talk about luck. Geez, was there nowhere she could go to get away from her problems? Goth night was supposed to be a great break, but Patrick and Desperation had followed her there and ruined it.

Georgia stood up and went to the edge of the smoking area to meet Dark Lord Alvin, who was just walking up. He bent down and kissed her before glancing toward Marianne to make sure she’d seen. Marianne waved, but didn’t smile too big—might as well let the kid think he was having his moment of triumph.

“Ready to go?” asked Sally.

“Yup,” said Marianne, standing shakily again. It was worse this time, and now her mouth was watering like crazy. She was going to have to puke when she got home. Just as she and Sally were passing by Alvin and waving to Georgia, Alvin stepped toward them.

“When are you going to give my CD back?” he asked Marianne.

Ooh. Ooh! He might be Georgia’s boyfriend now, but that was just too rude. Marianne couldn’t stand it. “What?” she said, acting confused. “Didn’t you pick it up that day you broke into my house and trashed my bedroom?”

He leaned toward her. “Sorry, no,” he said. “I kinda forgot after your other boyfriend shoved me up against the wall.”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “He didn’t shove you anywhere.”

Alvin looked quite self-satisfied at that moment. “Oh, so he lied to you, then. I guess what goes around comes around.”

WTF? How did he know that Marianne lied to Patrick all the time? She stepped back a little. “What did you say?”

“He’s lying to you just like you lied to me,” said the Dark Lord. “Serves you right.”

Oh, right. Duh. Stupid alcohol. Now she was able to laugh at what he was saying. “Lying to me? What? Do you think we talk about you all the time, then? I don’t think he’d even remember you if I brought you up.” Nice one, Marianne. That was good and mean.

Alvin’s eyes got unfocused, and he smiled. “Oh, I think he’ll remember me.”

Marianne lifted her eyebrow. “Oh, that’s right—you egged his truck,” she said. “How evil of you,” she said, waving spooky hands.

“He’ll remember,” Alvin repeated, probably trying to reassure himself.

She exhaled and turned to leave. “Whatever you...” Oh, crap. Almost before she knew what was happening, Marianne lurched over and puked right in the planter. She must have puked at least six times with all of them just standing there watching. Not her finest exit, to be sure, but that’s okay. She deserved it.

She made it back to Danielle’s that night somehow or other and kept puking all night, and all through the next day. At first, she’d panicked because she thought she had alcohol poisoning, but then she realized that since she also had a fever and sore throat, she must have caught Patrick’s sickness from the week before. She stayed home from school the rest of the week, just shivering and watching soap operas. Oh, and on Friday morning, she finally remembered