The Karma Club, Page 3

  “Anyway,” Heather continues, her mocha-colored eyes sparkling, “I was just talking to Spencer Cooper before lunch and we both thought it would be really fun if you came to the Loft on Saturday night.”

  I look anxiously to Jade, and she raises her eyebrows knowingly at me.

  “So, what do you say, Mason?” Heather cocks her head to the side and flashes him a smirk.

  “Well, I’m not really sure if—” Mason starts, but I give him a swift kick in the shin under the table and interrupt. “We’ll totally be there!” I say brightly.

  Mason shoots me a what-the-heck? look and reaches down to rub his sore leg as Heather offers me a strange half smile. “Great,” she says with another casual flip of her hair. “I guess I’ll see you on Saturday.” Then she spins around on her pink ballerina flats, and I watch longingly as she makes her way across the cafeteria and regroups with Jenna.

  “Jeez, Maddy,” Mason whines, still rubbing his leg. “That really hurt.”

  But I don’t even hear him. Because I’m still kind of in a trance, my eyes locked dazedly on the other side of the cafeteria.

  “Maddy,” Mason says, waving his hand in front of my face.

  I blink rapidly. “Sorry. Was I staring?”

  Mason and Jade both laugh. “Just a little,” he replies. “You do know she’s only Heather Campbell, not Naomi Campbell, don’t you?”

  “Whatever,” I say, reaching into my bag of potato chips and pulling out the last one. “It’s not like you wouldn’t date her if you had the chance.”

  I’m fully expecting Mason to instantly negate my statement, but he doesn’t say anything. And when I look up at him, I notice that his eyes are not focused on me. His gaze has shifted about half an inch to the right. I follow the direction of his eye line until I suddenly realize that I’m staring at Heather Campbell again. “Mason!” I screech in disbelief.

  His focus quickly turns back to me. “What?”

  “Would you?”

  “Would I what?”

  “Date Heather Campbell if you had the chance,” I repeat with an exasperated sigh, looking to Jade for moral support. But unfortunately, her head is down and she’s concentrating really hard on cutting up a piece of meat loaf with the edge of a plastic fork. I know she’s just trying to avoid getting caught in the middle.

  Mason breaks into laughter. “Yeah, right. Date her? Never in a million years. Besides, why would I need anyone else when I have you?” And then he flashes me one of those irresistible smiles that always leave my knees feeling a little bit wobbly. It’s this overpowering mix of adoration and disbelief. I like to translate it as “I love you, but sometimes you’re beyond ridiculous.” And I immediately forgive him. Besides, it’s really hard to concentrate on being upset with him when there’s only one thought occupying my mind at the moment.

  We’re finally going to the Loft!

  BEHIND DOOR NUMBER THREE

  The week drags on forever and Saturday feels like it is constantly getting farther and farther away. And the worst part is, the faster I want the time to fly, the slower everyone else seems to move around me.

  When Saturday does finally arrive, Angie, Jade, and I pile into the SUV that Mason’s parents bought him as a congratulations gift for getting accepted to Amherst and we make our way into downtown San Francisco to Spencer Cooper’s loft.

  Angie was reluctant to go from the moment we told her we’d been invited. She said she had no interest in hanging out with anyone who threw parties that required a guest list. But Jade and I were insistent, and she eventually yielded. I’m pretty sure the resistance was just a front. Because, in all honesty, I think she’s just as curious as the rest of us about what goes on at the infamous Loft. I don’t know how you could not at least wonder.

  Mason parks the car in a pay lot two blocks down from the modern high-rise building, and we each pitch in two dollars to cover the parking fee. As we step into the lobby, I feel a rush of adrenaline run through my body. The last time I was inside this lobby was when we were leaving it—right after we had been denied admittance to the party upstairs. Not exactly my fondest memory.

  I assure myself that tonight will be different. All of the bad memories of this place will be wiped clean and replaced with fresh and exciting new ones.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Mason says as we step into the elevator. “Why are we here again?”

  I nudge him with my elbow. “Because this is the place to be on Saturday night!” I say, slightly annoyed by his question.

  “According to who?”

  I throw my hands up in frustration. “According to . . . everyone!”

  Mason shakes his head. “I’d much rather be doing what we normally do on Saturday nights.”

  I toss him an incredulous look. “You mean going to a movie and hanging out at the IHOP?” I don’t attempt to hide the disgust in my voice.

  Mason nods. “Yes. I like eating pancakes late at night.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  As soon as we step out of the elevator I hear the music emerging from behind the door marked 1208. I follow Jade as we make our way down the hall toward the sound of the latest chart-topping song blaring from an amped-up speaker system.

  Angie is the first to arrive at the door, and she looks to us and gestures mockingly toward it. “So is there like a secret code that I have to know, or should I just knock?”

  “Just knock,” I tell her with an exasperated sigh.

  She reaches out and taps the door three times. We wait. Nothing happens.

  “Knock louder,” I instruct her, suddenly feeling like we’re characters in The Wizard of Oz, waiting to get inside the gates of the Emerald City so we can finally meet the elusive wizard after our long and tiring journey to get here.

  Finally, a few seconds later, the door opens, and the beautiful and tall Chandra Cruz is standing behind it.

  Chandra and Spencer have been good friends since grade school. I think they dated for like two days in the seventh grade, but the rumor is it didn’t work because they both agreed it was too much like going out with your brother or sister. So they decided to just remain friends.

  She looks from Angie to Jade and finally to me. Mason is standing behind me, leaning against the hallway wall, his arms crossed, clearly disapproving of this entire charade. The look on Chandra’s face is one of pure stone. She obviously takes her role as the Loft doorman (or doorperson, rather) very seriously. Like she’s guarding the entrance to one of those clubs that only celebrities and their entourages are allowed to frequent and anyone who dares try to get by her would soon find themselves thrown into the nearest back-alley Dumpster.

  “No,” she says firmly, shaking her head and popping her gum.

  I can feel a lump forming in my throat. No? What does she mean, no? As in no entrance? But that’s impossible. Heather invited us. Personally!

  This can’t be happening . . . again.

  But then I see the door start to close on us and I think fast and reach out with my hand to stop it. “Wait!”

  She looks at me with this cold, hard stare that says, “How dare you question my door authority?”

  “We’re here with my boyfriend, Mason Brooks,” I say, stepping aside so she can see Mason standing behind me. He starts to roll his eyes until I grit my teeth and shoot him a warning look. He breaks into a fake smile and tosses Chandra a pitiful wave.

  You know, for being the class president, you would think he’d be better at this kind of thing.

  At the sight of Mason, she grins broadly and swings the door open wide. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Heather said you’d be stopping by. Come on in!”

  I let out a huge sigh of relief and timidly step through the door.

  The first thought that crosses my mind when I enter is Wow! Just plain old Wow!

  The place is absolutely enormous. A large, open space with concrete floors and square pillars throughout. The windows are floor to ceiling, offering a spectacular view of
the city and the dramatically lit Golden Gate Bridge in the distance. The music is blasting, and people are sprawled out on chic white couches, standing in small groups around the edge of the room, or dancing in the center. Off to the left is a long hallway with three closed red doors that look like they lead to bedrooms or bathrooms, or maybe even closets. On the opposite side of the space there’s an enormous kitchen right next to an open sliding glass door that leads out to a balcony overlooking the bay.

  It’s by far the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. It looks like a giant warehouse, except clearly decorated with the help of an interior designer who happens to have excellent taste. It’s the kind of place you see in People magazine when the stars welcome photographers into their homes and you get to see what it’s like to be a celebrity. And apparently, this is exactly what it’s like.

  “This is incredible!” I yell to Jade over the sound of the music. She nods in agreement, unable to speak.

  “Better than the IHOP?” I ask Mason with a raise of my eyebrows.

  He stubbornly shrugs his shoulders. “Not bad.”

  I scan the room for Heather, mostly just to see what she’s wearing and make sure the miniskirt and boots that I bought especially for the occasion are anywhere up to par. I finally spot her standing in the kitchen next to Jenna LeRoux. Angie likes to joke that Heather and Jenna are attached by an eight-foot-long retractable cord. And every time she does, I purposely fail to mention that if Heather even allowed me to stand within eight feet of her on a daily basis, I probably wouldn’t leave her side either.

  To be fair to Jenna, this is her boyfriend’s loft, so it makes sense that she would be here. She’s practically the hostess. I look around to see if I can spot the host himself, but I can’t find him. Probably off somewhere drinking beer and bragging about how fast his Beemer goes.

  Just as I’m about to turn my attention back to my friends, I spot Seth Taylor sitting on one of the couches in the corner. “What is he doing here?” I ask, pointing in his direction. “I mean shouldn’t he be off at some sorority party right now?”

  Jade turns her head and spots her ex-boyfriend, then immediately turns back to me and shrugs. “Whatever. I don’t care. He can do what he wants. It’s a free country.”

  I look over to Angie to see if she has anything to say on the subject, but she shrugs too. So I just let it go and suggest that we dance.

  Jade gets giddy with excitement as she grabs my hand and leads me to the center of the room while Angie takes a seat on one of the barstools off to the side. Mason waves from the entrance and motions to me that he’ll be on the balcony. I tell him, “Okay,” and then face Jade, who is totally absorbed in the beat.

  Jade is a really strong chick. Sometimes she impresses me with her ability to hide her feelings and make everyone else think that she’s fine, but other times, like tonight, I feel kind of sorry for her and wonder why she feels the need to hide things from people. Especially us, her two best friends. Because I know that, despite her carefree shrugs and offhanded whatevers, seeing Seth Taylor at this party really does bother her. I mean, how could it not? Last year he told her he would wait until she was ready to have sex, and then the next day she found a condom wrapper under his bed. Apparently when he said “I’ll wait to have sex,” what he really meant was “I’ll wait to have sex with you. But any other girl is fair game.”

  Jade was devastated but claimed to be completely over it within a week, even though Angie and I both knew she wasn’t.

  My favorite song comes on over the speakers, and I wave to Angie to join us even though we know that she hates to dance, but she firmly shakes her head no.

  I laugh to myself and turn back to Jade, who looks as content as I feel. This is way too cool. We’re already having a blast and we only just got here. This is definitely what you’re supposed to do on a Saturday night.

  I know now that I could never go back to movies and late-night pancakes.

  An hour and a half later, I’m completely sweaty and my feet are killing me. These new boots definitely weren’t made for dancing. Jade and I step away from the center of the room and fan ourselves with our hands. I quickly glance around for Angie, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

  “I wonder where she went,” I say, gulping from a bottle of water that I pulled out of the refrigerator.

  Jade finishes her water and tosses the empty bottle into a nearby trash can. “I think I saw her talking to some guy earlier. Let’s go find her. Maybe she’s macking with him somewhere. If we catch her in the act, we’ll have some good dirt to use later.”

  “Excellent idea,” I reply as we make our way through the crowd to the other side of the loft.

  We approach the hallway with the three red doors and stop in front of the first one. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one!” I exclaim, dramatically swinging the door open with great force.

  It’s a coat closet.

  Definitely not very exciting. Unless we’ve just interrupted some raunchy game of seven minutes in heaven. But unfortunately, this coat closet is filled mostly with coats.

  Jade and I both chime in on a unified round of disappointed awwwws before I step over to the next door and say, “Okay, what about door number two?”

  I swing open the second door to reveal a large marble bathroom with a huge Jacuzzi tub in the middle. Jade peers in from behind me, and we see Leslie Gellar, the head cheerleader, leaning over the counter, applying a layer of lip gloss. She turns her head and gives us both a once-over. “Did you need to use the bathroom?”

  I shake my head and close the door behind me. “I guess that leaves only one choice.” I pause before the last red door in the hallway. “Angie, prepare to be busted!”

  Jade giggles giddily, and I put my finger to my lips to quiet her as I softly creak the door open and we both tiptoe into the darkness. I can make out two figures on a bed against the far wall, and it sounds like they’re kissing.

  Yep, those are definitely kissing noises.

  I feel a small thrill rush over me. The kind you can only feel when you know your best friend is getting some much-needed action. It’s been forever since Angie has made out with a boy, and I’ll be the first to say that it’s about time.

  Jade stifles another giggle and flips on the light. The bright light momentarily blinds me, but after a few seconds, my vision clears and I can finally make out the sight that lies in front of me.

  Oh my God.

  I stand frozen in shock. Completely unable to move. Suddenly it feels like a thousand-pound brick has just fallen down on top of my head. The sound of the music and talking and laughter coming from the main room slowly fades into a quiet, muted buzz, and I can feel my legs start to turn into Jell-O beneath me.

  The two figures making out on the bed are not Angie and some random guy.

  But rather Heather Campbell . . . and Mason.

  Yes, my Mason! Sweet, honest, loyal, didn’t-even-want-to-come-to-this-freaking-party-in-the-first-place Mason!

  My heart starts to pound in my chest, and I feel as if it might actually explode at any minute. The unexpected light has stopped them in the middle of their tongue-tango fiesta, and Mason looks up to see me standing in front of him. His eyes fill with panic, and he opens his mouth to speak.

  But I don’t wait for anything to come out. I turn around as fast as I can and head straight for the front door. I run through it and don’t stop until I reach the elevator and push the button. The tears are already starting to sting my eyes, and I can’t wait for the elevator to arrive so I head to the stairwell and fly down every last flight of stairs until I find myself outside in the chilly January night’s air.

  The fog coming in from the bay is thick, and I can hardly see two feet in front of me. Or maybe I’m just going into shock and my vision is clouding over. I’m really not sure at this point.

  I try to breathe in the fresh air and use its crispness to cool the fire burning in my chest. But it’s no use. I can feel the vomit rising up in my throa
t. I anxiously spin around and look for a trash can, a plastic bag, anything. But there’s nothing of the kind.

  Finally, I step into the alley next to the building and throw up right on the street.

  The image of Heather and Mason is circling around in my head so fast that it feels like I just got off the Tilt-A-Whirl at some cheap carnival. Except at least the Tilt-A-Whirl is a pretty fun ride while you’re actually on it. Walking in on my boyfriend of two years making out with the most popular girl in the school is definitely not my idea of fun.

  How could Mason do this to me?

  How could Heather do this to me? She knows he’s my boyfriend. Heck, everyone knows! Some random farmer picking corn in the middle of Iowa knows. It’s published in Contempo Girl magazine for all to see!

  I’m suddenly hit with the sickening realization that this isn’t about Heather not knowing. It’s about her not caring.

  I lean over for another round of puking. This time, Jade is in the alleyway, holding back my hair. I suddenly feel stupid and childish. Who throws up after the age of ten? Except when you have food poisoning. Or you’re bulimic.

  I turn and look at Jade standing loyally by my side, her face full of pain and agony.

  Angie rushes out of the building a few seconds later, after obviously having seen me run from the party, along with every A-list member of Colonial High’s senior class. Fortunately, I’m in too much shock over what just happened to even start to feel the mortification of it.

  “I don’t under—I don’t . . .” I try to speak, but I can’t. I find it hard to even catch my breath. I struggle to take in deep lungfuls of air, but in the end, I just break into a ragged cough. Jade pats my back with her hand like a mother burping a baby and looks at me with these deep, apologetic eyes. The tears are falling harder now. I can feel them. They’re running through the mascara that I had ever so carefully applied. They’re streaking down my perfectly powdered face.