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looks of her, I d been right to be worried.
 I think two shots will get me buzzed, she says.  I think a third shot will get me properly drunk. It
may take four or five before I black out. I don t know. I ve never had alcohol before.
 How did you even get those? I d used the ID that said I was twenty-one at the entrance of the club,
but because of the talent competition, the place is overrun by underage kids and their families.
Daphne has a bright fluorescent green stamp on her hand to indicate she isn t legal.
 Stole  em off a tray.
 That takes some guts.
 Don t worry, I ll leave some money on the table.
 That s not what I m worried about.
 I haven t decided if I m going to keep trying to drink this one yet, she says, running her finger
around the rim of the glass.  I don t drink. I swore I never would because of Joe. My mom is always
giving me lectures about how kids of alcoholics have to be real careful how underage drinking
increases their risks of losing control. I don t like not being in control. It doesn t fit into my plan.
Everything I ve done my whole life has been part of my master plan. Teaching myself music,
rehearsing day and night, practicing self-discipline. It was all leading toward the same goal. I knew
exactly where I was going and how I wanted to get there. And then you had to come along. . . .
 Can I sit?
She shrugs.  It s not like I could stop you.
 You could if you wanted to.
She looks up at me.  Could I?
I purse my lips.
The guy with the bass guitar finishes his solo and the crowd goes wild with applause. A table of who
I assume are judges hold up white cards with numbers on them. The audience gets even more excited.
She slides over in the booth.  Knock yourself out. She pats the seat next to her and I figure she s
inviting me to sit next to her, not punch myself in the head. So I sit.
She scoots the shot glass closer to her.  I ve been in denial since last night, she says.  Thinking I
have some sort of say in all of this. It s just . . . telling Tobin about his sister made all of this suddenly
feel very real. Too real. The tip of her finger curls over the lip of the glass into the amber liquid.
 And I haven t got the slightest idea what to do.
I want to tell her to give in. I want to tell her to stop fighting her destiny. I want to tell her to agree to
come with me. Instead, I say,  I don t think you re going to find the answers in the bottom of that
glass.
 Yeah, but maybe I ll find some distraction. I want to forget for a while, she says, holding the glass.
She sighs and looks up at the girl on the stage.  That was supposed to be me, you know?
 How so?
 It s funny, she says,  that I m here. This weekend. In Las Vegas. Trying to save myself. Because
that was part of my original plan.
A girl onstage goes to the microphone and starts singing. She s good, but not half as good as Daphne.
 My plan was to be here for this very competition. She points up at the sign over the stage.  All-
American Teen Talent Competition. I was headed to the preliminary auditions for this competition the
day Joe showed up in Ellis and told me I was coming to live with him. Before I met you. This was the
plan. I was going to kill it at the auditions and make it past the preliminary round and end up here.
She laughs a little to herself.  I told Jonathan that I d settle for second place, but that wasn t true. I
knew I d end up here. Some big talent scout or college recruiter was going to see me sing and give me
my big break. My big ticket out of Ellis Fields. Away from that small-town, nobody life. She gives a
short little laugh.  I didn t know that the final competition was going to be at the Crossroads, though.
That s just kind of . . . weird.
I nod.
 I guess it wouldn t have mattered. They would have just sent you to Ellis Fields instead of Olympus
Hills. I d still be in this mess, and the plan would still have gone to hell. She smirks like she finds it
all pretty funny. From the way she s talking so openly, I d think she s already had more to drink than a
couple of sips.
 You know? she says, seeming to speak to the shot glass instead of me.  Why the hell not? Let s get
good and drunk. My life is probably over anyway. She picks up the glass, like she s going to down it
in one gulp  Bottoms up! she says, pinching her nose.
 No, I say, putting my hand over the top of the glass, stopping her.  I ve got a better idea for a
distraction. I set the glass on the tray of a passing server.  Come on. I pull her from the booth.
 What are we doing? she asks, but she doesn t protest being propelled from the club out into the
casino.
 You ll see. First, we need some leverage.
I tell her to wait outside the club entrance and I make my way nonchalantly to an unoccupied slot
machine. I watch how a woman in a giant, tentlike dress uses the machine next to mine. Then I pull a
quarter from my pocket and put it into the slot machine. I pull the lever and then place my hand on top
of the machine and send an electrical pulse into it from my fingertips. The woman next to me goes nuts [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]