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The Dean of Students was the first one in the empty room on the second floor of the students’ center. Her foot was tapping the floor in impatience as we entered, but if anything, we were right on time. I wasn’t surprised to see that Vivian herself was still absent.
“At least someone is keeping their word,” Dean O’Donnell said, glancing at Elliot and then down at the clipboard in her lap. She made a note of our presence. “I bet you both ten bucks this princess will show.”
“I bet two,” I said, smiling at her. Props to the woman for putting up with our shit. At least she had a sense of humor. “Where should we sit?”
The Dean gestured to the circle of chairs. She sat in one a few feet away from the circle, as if hoping not to get too involved with the impending drama.
Elliot and I took our seats in the circle, and sat there in silence until we heard the door open and close behind us. We turned our heads to find a couple students walk in, people I’ve never seen before, who were probably here because they actually needed the help and were totally unaware of Vivian’s front. Thinking about the truth made me sick—that she would ditch the group as soon as she got what she wanted, and leave these kids hanging. Even if she continued to host them, I doubted she’d put in any effort.
“Hey,” I whispered, leaning toward Elliot as the kids took their seats. “Is Leo gonna show?”
He shrugged. “I doubt it.”
There were four of us, now. Another minute later, Tara entered the room, and made eye contact with me. She seemed to freeze in place out of shock, or anxiety, before taking another step.
“Hey,” I said, standing up from my seat before she could sit down. “I need to talk to you.”
For a moment, she didn’t respond, just staring at me with those wide doe eyes, as if she didn’t recognize me, as if I were the one who had changed and not her. When I crossed my arms, showing I wasn’t going to take no for an answer, she nodded and turned back to the door.
I followed her out into the hall. Once we were out of earshot from anyone in the room, I turned to her.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound as patient, as understanding, as possible. As if a thousand things weren’t already bombarding my conscience. “I saw you three in the diner. Are you friends with her now? And Eric? What the hell, Tara?”
Tara glanced past my shoulder and fidgeted, probably afraid to see Vivian walking down the hallway and overhearing us. I guessed the coast was clear, because she looked back at me and stepped closer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just … it’s complicated. I told you the story. We were best friends back in school, when we were young, like … really close. It’s just …” She took in a trembling breath. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but she’s hurting. I know from my own experience what she’s dealing with. She can’t admit it to herself, but she’s addicted. She’s got problems. And I thought I could help.”
“Cut the bullshit,” I said, narrowing my eyes at hers. “She’s taking something from you. Using you.”
“I’m serious,” Tara snapped back, which took me by surprise. “I didn’t tell you the whole story, you know,” she said, and let out a heavy breath as she looked past my shoulder again. “She started using pretty young. There’s no doubt that it messed her up. But she didn’t used to be this way. Look,” Tara sighed. “I know how this sounds.But I feel like I can help her. Get her back to the way she used to be. She’s good inside, Kat. I know you can’t see it, but I know she is. V just needs help.”
“You’re calling her V, now?” I let out a snort, and shook my head. The way she was trying to defend her so-called best friend reminded me of what Pierre told me just hours ago. “Look,” I started, “just because you think you know somebody doesn’t mean you can save them. Believe me, I’ve been there.” I closed my eyes, and took in a deep breath. “There’s something else at stake here. I saw her give you an envelope, back at the diner. What is it?”
Tara pressed her lips into a thin smile, as if she relieved I hadn’t raised my voice or called her a fake friend. She was torn, and innocent. And I cared about her. I’d hear her out.
“Fine,” she whispered again. “She’s helping me out, if you know what I mean. I could get into art school after all. I mean,” she continued, her tone growing more excited, “she said she could get me into a school in Manhattan. Can you believe that? She’s giving me the chance to leave this shithole of a school and actually start my life.”
“And you do what?” I wasn’t buying any of this. “Be her lapdog? Did she tell you to stop talking to me? Are you plotting to ruin my life now, too?”
Tara bit her lip, and I noticed her eyes were starting to turn glossy, as if she were trying to stop the flow of tears.
When she didn’t say anything, I let out a long breath, and tried to ease up my tone.
“You know what,” I began, “I know going to art school is important to you. And if she’s genuinely going to help you get there, then so be it.” I leaned in. “But if I were you, I’d think about how and when to draw the line. Because that’s a lot of fucking debt to pay. You’re like her slave. Is that what you want?”
I didn’t even want to mention Eric, the fact that he was probably cheating on her with Vivian the same way he cheated on me. In an emotional sense, at least.
Before she could reply, I whipped my head around at the sound of high-heels smacking the tile floor. It to be Vivian coming around the corner.
Without another word, we hurried back into the conference room and took our seats before Vivian strode into the room. The scent of Vivian’s perfume, sweet enough to give anyone a cavity, flooded into the room and invaded my nostrils. I struggled to keep in a row of sneezes.
Tara sat straight across from me, Vivian to her side. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about Tara was … different. She was dressed the same, sort of hippie fashion, but the way she avoided my gaze wasn’t like her. Tara was my friend. Sweet, kind. Why would she act like she didn’t know me?
Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention to the Dean as she cleared her throat.
Whatever. There was probably nothing wrong.
“My name is Pat O’Donnell,” the Dean said. “Welcome to Freeman’s first Narcotics Anonymous group. While I’m not leading the discussion taking place here today, I am a liscensed counselor, and so am here to supervise and offer sponsorship if any of you are interested.”
