Where Did We Go?

Dylan nudged the fancy oak door to the Rivera mansion close behind her. It slammed shut with a resounding thud.

"Hello?" Normally Dylan would have kicked her heels off and dropped her Gucci bag on the end table without a second thought, but now she hesitated. Whether it was the new decorations or the fact that the Monet and Van Gogh paintings were switched or that a Persian rug that covered the familiar hardwood floor, the place had lost its ease.

"Alicia?" She shifted her weight awkwardly, still in front of the door. The air seemed colder, more foreign.

Alicia's house was vast and since the expansion two summers ago took up even more room that Dylan was used to, but there were only three places Alicia would be. Her room, her bathroom or the dance studio in the back. Dylan opted for the dance studio. It felt intrusive to go up to Alicia's room, especially if she wasn't there. Which was weird, because it had never felt intrusive before.

Plus, Dylan decided, the house was creeping her out. She walked out the front door and around the back. Light was streaming through the high windows, barely making a difference to the rest of the world in the late afternoon, but all the difference to Dylan.

She knocked on the smooth wood door and it swung inwards.

Alicia was in her dance clothesspandex and a loose t-shirtsitting on a beanbag with her back straight. Like her mother, Alicia didn't believe in sloppy posture for anything. Her hair was in a messy bun and her mascara free eyes were trained on the plasma screen TV hanging in the corner. Dylan caught a thousand reflections of her in the mirrored walls. She looked different.

"Alicia?"

Alicia jumped, a startled expression on her face. "Oh, Dyl. Hey," she said when she saw Dylan standing in the doorway. "Come in." She grabbed a remote next to her and clicked pause. Images of dancers froze on the screen. Alicia was recognizable immediatelyfront and center, the only dancer without a forced smile or noticeable sweat.

"What's that?" Dylan dragged a blue bean bag over and sank into it.

"A practice video," Alicia said in a distracted voice. "From two nights ago."

"I thought you always looked at those the day after." Alicia was anal about her dance routines and had a very tight, nonnegotiable schedule.

"I forgot." Her voice was still unfocused.

"Leesh?" Dylan tried to get comfortable, but the beanbag kept shifting underneath her. "Why did you text me to come over?"

Alicia turned the television and walked over to the small mini-fridge in the corner. Dylan couldn't help admiring and hating her lithe dancer legs at the same time. It had taken a long time and Dylan hated to admit it, but also a little therapy, to get over her weight issues. But even though she knew she wasn't fat, she also knew she'd never have a body like Alicia's, even if, by some miracle, she was capable of dancing to the same degree as Alicia. There are things you were born with that you just couldn't change.

"Water?" Alicia offered, holding out a mineral water bottle.

"No, thanks."

She shut the fridge and sauntered back to her beanbag. Alicia cracked open her bottle and drained half of it. She wiped her mouth with the hem of shirt, something she'd never do in public or in front of Josh.

"So," Dylan said. "What's up?" Everything was offher voice, her heartbeat, her humor.

Alicia turned the water bottle over in her hands, her eyes downcast. "I feel guilty?"

"Why?" Dylan was alarmed. "Did you cheat on Josh? Leesh"

"It's not," Alicia said, "about Josh." Dylan's mouth dried. She could guess who it was about. "It's about Massie."

"What about Massie?" The dance studio was too revealing. She couldn't look away without seeing herself, or Alicia.

"Dyl, I think something's wrong with her."

"Besides her putting Landon ahead of us every single day?" Dylan's voice was rough. And flirting with my boyfriend.

Alicia tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Her was earnest and young. "I'm being serious." "So am I."

"No, you're not. What's up with you anyways? It's like you're mad at her or something."

"So were you," Dylan shot back. "You basically said that last time we talked."

Alicia's natural tan went deep red. "I didn't mean it! You know that. I was pissed, I had a lot of steam. I thought it was the same for you."

"Well," her voice shook, "it wasn't."

Both girls were quiet for a moment.

"Is this because of Derrick?" Alicia's voice was soft. "Because, Dylan, he would never, ever"

"It's not." Her voice pitched up. "It's not."

"I'm still your friend, Dyl. I'll always be that."

Why were there so many mirrors? She couldn't find a place to look without seeing Alicia's eyes.

"Dylan, seriously. I'll never judge you. You never judged me. Remember that time I met that guy at the beach two summers ago? The one who was really hot? And we flirted? And I felt this quick connection with him, like fire on a wire? And I told you, I told you that I loved Josh but if the other guy had asked, I probably would have spent the night cheating on Josh?

"And I felt terrible, but you told me I was only human and we weren't perfect and it wasn't a good thing, but it wasn't bad either. You didn't judge me at all. You didn't look at me like I was disgusting. You helped me reflect on myself and me and Josh and we changed some things. And last summer, we ran into him again and I didn't even care, because things between me and Josh were so much better?"

"This is different." Dylan's voice was robotic. She turned to face Alicia. "I think there's something still between Massie and Derrick." Tears started to build up behind her eyes. "And don't tell me I'm being paranoid because this time I'm not. I know because I can feel it. They still have whatever they had in ninth grade. I wonder"She looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the salty tears "I wonder if this is some cosmic punishment, because I went after a guy I knew my best friend was still in love with after all those years. I knew, but I just didn't care. It didn't seem important. And now I feel awful because it was important. Am I terrible person?"

"No." Alicia leaned over and hugged Dylan. She was warm and comforting and as familiar as Dylan's old blankie. "No, of course you're not. When you're in love with someone, you don't think, even when you should. And Derrick liked you, too. And you two were great together in a lot of ways Massie and Derrick weren't."

"But it's all my fault," Dylan said into Alicia's shoulder. "She still loves him! Can't you see it? I did. They'd gone for years without speaking and just two words and it's back."

"What's back?" Alicia was genuinely curious.

"Their god-freaking-damned chemistry. Their stupid connection. We were great together in a lot of ways they weren't, but they were good in all the ways that counted."

"Dylan, listen to me." Her voice was firm. She took Dylan by the shoulders and made her look her in the eyes. "It's not a choice, okay? It's not comparing who's better. You are not worse than Massie. She could never have the ease with people that you do. She doesn't have your humor or your hair."

Dylan laughed a bit.

"And maybe she has a connection with Derrick, but you'll have that same connection with someone else. And when you meet him, none of this will matter. It's like," Alicia searched for the words, "you and Derrick?you guys were fire on a very long wire. That's something amazing and special. And when that wire ends, you might still be friends. You probably will.

"But in ten years, you won't still wake up, wishing you guys hadn't ended. Massie will. Because they have something that runs deep than a wire and burns brighter than fire. Something that leaves a mark that you could never forget. And you'll have that with someone else. Someone you'll never worry about. Someone who loves you in ways you didn't know existed."

"Is that what it's like for you?" Dylan asked. "Being with Josh?"

Alicia hesitated. "I don't know yet. But I love him the best I can right now."

Dylan let that sink in. "Thank you. That really helped." She stood up and opened the door.

Alicia scrambled to her feet. "Where are you going?"

"I have some things to do." Dylan paused. "Thanks, though. Really. That helped a lot, Alicia."

The door shut in the quietest way, leaving Alicia with a thousand reflections of her confused face.

The mall was strangely empty for a weekend. Dylan stirred her straw in her pink lemonade, leaning back in the metal food court chair. Her teriyaki chicken and rice was steaming in front of her. Nowadays, Dylan didn't abuse food the way she used to, but still, it brought her comfort and helped her think. She liked the food court too; it reminded her of eighth grade.

A girl and her father passed Dylan, both carrying bulging Barnes and Noble bags. Guilt shot through Dylan as she thought of her stack of textbooks at home, waiting for her. She still had to finish her essay. Her mother definitely wouldn't be happy if that wasn't done.

"Fuck," Dylan whispered, because there was a family with small kids a table over. With all the Massie, Derrick and Alicia drama she'd forgotten about that academic nut of a mother she had, but that bliss would pass. Merri-Lee did not let herself fade into the background of someone else's life.

It's so unfair. She highly doubted anyone else had this much crap to deal with at the moment. Not to mention, Dylan frowned, her stomach churning and cramping up painfully, her period was definitely coming some time soon.

Joy. Pimples and bloating and bleeding on top of already feeling insecure about her relationship, on top of tension with one of her best friends, on top of stress about school. For a minute, the feeling of absolute helplessness took over Dylan and she almost did what she'd done before to cope–stand up, throw her food away, find the nearest bathroom and stick her finger down her throat.

But, straightening up, Dylan didn't. She purposely dragged her tray closer to her and took a bite, not to spite herself, but to regain a sense of control. She was confident, she was content. Being perfect and skinny to the bone and a genius weren't things everybody could be, she reminded herself. Dylan was a hardworker. She had goals. Even if she failed her essay, she still had a future. She could paint, something she'd found out last summer when she took a class for fun at the local college. It taken a long time, but Dylan knew she was important now, maybe not in the ways she wanted to be, but in ways that counted. Everything with Massie and Derrick and Derrick and Massie had spun that confidence around, warped it, but it didn't have to be that way.

The conversation with Alicia earlier bounced around in her head. She had been right; it wasn't about comparison. It didn't have to be.

"Dylan?"

Her head snapped up to see Claire standing in front of her, dressed to the nines, hair in a fancy up-do and a hint of make-up. Still, even though her friend was standing in front of Dylan, blinking those round blue eyes, she almost didn't believe it was Claire. The blonde's notorious accessory–Dune locked on her mouth–was gone.

"Hi, Claire," Dylan said slowly, eyes questioning.

"Dune's away," Claire sighed, sinking into the chair across Dylan and grabbing a piece of chicken. She tossed it in her mouth and chewed loudly. That was a habit Claire had never been able to break.

Dylan hid a smile, amused. This was almost like old, pre-sluthood Claire. Funny how it seemed Dylan let go of her old self just as Claire was starting to embrace hers. "Where?"

"Surf tournament in Santa Monica. Honestly, I wish he'd tell me these things at least 24-hours in advance, you know? Like, is that too much to ask?"

Dylan shrugged. "It's Dune. He has a short attention span."

Claire's mouth turned up in a devilish grin, another piece of chicken between her teeths. "You know that's right."

Dylan rolled her eyes and smacked her friend's hand away. "If you're going to eat my food, at least get a fork, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Claire got up and disappeared in the direction of the salad bar, leaving her tote on the chair next to Dylan. So she's coming back.

Tentatively, Dylan picked up her fork again and shoveled a pile of rice into her mouth. It was a strange day, she reflected, chewing slowly. The food tasted good, the way it was supposed to taste; full of spices and flavors and layers and texture, not hate and love and desperation. Being here, with Claire. Thinking about happiness, about deserving happiness.

Vaguely Dylan wondered if it was all a sign, a sign it was time to let go and let ghosts live in the past and move on in her life. With or without certain people.

Claire came back, fork and napkins in hand and a big grin on her face, the smile that used to be her trademark before a lipsticked smirk took it's place. "Am I good enough to eat your food now, Dyl?"

"Course." Dylan nudged the tray in between them and they dug in, Claire launching off into a story about how stupid Todd was. See, sharing's not so bad, she reflected, munching on her food as Claire gestured wildly in front of her.

"I'm so sorry," Sammi was saying as she got out of the backseat—she'd insisted Massie ride shotgun. Luckily Massie hadn't driven to the outlet with her own car, because, knowing Sammi, she would have made Massie leave her car. "I'm such an airhead." Sammi's head was still in her purse, searching around for something. "Thanks for dropping me off here, Derrick."

Finally, she looked up and closed the door before moving up to the driver's seat. Derrick tapped his fingers on the wheel impatiently. "What do you want know?"

"Nothing, little bro," she said sweetly, before leaning in and whispering, "Thank you for today. It really was nice."

"Yeah, yeah," he said gruffly, but his face softened. "I promise we'll do this more."

"Okay." She ruffled his hair and then leaned away, waving to Massie. "Have fun, kids. Be a gentleman, Derryboy."

"Sorry you have to make two trips," Massie said as Derrick pulled out of his driveway.

"It's fine. This is what you get when you trust Sammi with directions." To be honest, he'd forgotten about dropping Massie off at her house. The entire day it had felt so organic to have her next to him, he hadn't even realized it would have to end and they would have to go on to lead their separate lives.

"She just wants me to stay," Massie said, laughing, "so someone can give her good advice on outfits."

"Hey! And I'm sure my mom would frown on you living in her closet."

"Your mom loves me."

"She's on medication, her judgment's not clear."

"Bullshit, Harrington. Your mom wouldn't take a Tylenol let alone prescription medication."

Derrick laughed. It was true. "Okay, fine—wait left or right up here?"

"Straight," Massie said, leaning forward. Her hair fell forward and she impatiently pushed it back. Derrick tried not to concentrate on the curves of her legs as she shifted around in the front seat.

"Right." He cleared his throat and focused on the road. "Just give me directions after that. I forgot where your house is."

"It's fine." There was something off with her voice, a slight wobble.

Derrick turned, surprised. "Hey, don't be insulted. I barely remember how to get to Dylan's house." Oh, shit. Why did he bring up Dylan—she's your girlfriend a voice in the back of his head screamed at him.

"Oh, it's not that—" Massie broke off and looked out the window, expression glazed.

"Well, what is it?" He hated that she was playing mind games with him, teasing a little insight, a little depth into her and then taking it away. After the intersection, Derrick pulled the car to the side of the road and parked.

"What are you—"

"Seriously," Derrick said, turning to face her. "Tell me what's up."

"Derrick."

"I mean it."

"You're making a big deal out of nothing," she said with a heavy sigh.

"Don't care."

"Stubborn jackass."

He raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Ice-cold bitch."

"Okay, this is stupid." Massie rolled her eyes. After a moment of contemplation, she unbuckled her seat belt and turned to face Derrick, her legs pulling up into criss-cross-applesauce. "It's just…I don't really want to go home, okay? No big whoop. It sucks, but whatever." She threw her hand out in mockery of a grand gesture. "Drive on, good sir. My palace awaits." The words dripped with bitterness.

"Hey," Derrick said softly, turning back to the wheel. "You don't have to go home if you don't want to. We can do something."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He ignored the rapid beats of his heart, the way his entire body felt like a car seconds before accelerating. "Yeah, we can do whatever you want." Above them, the clouds started to roll over ominously and he heard an echo of thunder in the distance.

"Ok." Hesitantly, Massie sat back and tentatively and strapped herself back in.

"So where to, milady?"

That made her smile. "Sonic."

"Milkshakes? I'm in." He pulled the car out of park and made a quick and possibly illegal u-turn. The strangest feeling came over him and he knew it came over Massie too because their expressions both stilled at the same time. It felt like a day out of someone else's life, like he'd always been driving around with Massie, avoiding their respective homes, laughing and teasing and going to Sonic. But today wasn't anything ordinary—it had been an extraordinary surprise, a gift almost and it pained him that it wasn't the norm. He was just starting to realize how much he would have enjoyed a life with Massie in it.

"Oh, God," Massie whispered, putting a hand to her forehead. Her eyes were blazing but her voice was quiet enough that Derrick could pretend he didn't hear, pretend they both didn't screw up. "Where did we go, where did we go?" She kept repeating that in frantic whispers.

Wrong, Derrick was tempted to add. Where the hell did we go wrong?

"Oh, come on," Claire almost pleaded, her hands on Dylan's tote and eyes wide, blinking. "Let's stay a little longer. It's been so much fun."

Dylan laughed. "I know, it really has. But I have so much schoolwork." Already she was dreading going home, the unfinished word documents on her desktop, the math packet with blank answer boxes, the dog-eared page in The Awakening whispering to her reminders of tomorrow's quiz.

"Boo-hoo," Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Fuck school, y'know?" She stood up straight. "Dyl, we're seventeen and fabulous. Let's live a little."

"Whoa there." The two girls were already exiting the mall, so despite Claire's pleads, she must have realized that Dylan was indeed going home. "Calm down, girl. Dune's in Malibu, remember?" Everything crazy about Claire was connected to Dune and the sudden reemergence of Orlando Claire had Dylan thinking that possibly the craziness only existed with Dune. Funny how it worked out, that when you threw two mellow people together, they burst like a piñata and showered recklessness on the crowd.

"Yeah, I know, but…ugh. I just don't want to go home, y'know?" It wasn't that Claire had a bad home. As a matter of fact, she loved her family to bits. But they were ordinary, calm, reliable. Tonight, Claire just wanted to be out with friends and forget herself. Suddenly, she perked up. "Hey, maybe I can help you?"

Dylan stopped walking. She could make out her car in the empty parking lot, but Claire's words left her stumped. "Like….with my homework?" What she really wanted to say was, you, help with IB work? but there was no way that couldn't be rude.

"Sure. Like, I can make you snacks or just talk, or whatever. I'm very good at math." This was true.

Actually, as Dylan mulled the thought over, rooted on the gray pavement while Claire bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet, it wasn't that bad. She didn't want to lose Old Claire so soon. And company could make the schoolwork easier, the way your mother squeezing your hand made the medicine taste a little better.

"Sure," Dylan said and she started walking again, a strange happy feeling in her chest. "I'll drive."

"Awesome," Claire sang, jumping and giving a little kick in the air. "Hey, do you know if you have gummy-bears?"