Chapter 10

The guys decided they should be “social” after another hour of playing video games. Should be. Yes. Because they wanted to be polite not because they wanted to drool over girls in bikinis. It had nothing to do with all the bare skin running around Joe’s backyard.

I joined, but I was the non-social one. I was fine to pop in my music and hang on my own. The booze had simmered me out. Joe checked on me a few times, but I reassured him I was good, and he finally went over to his friends, laughing and doing what was expected of him. Erin was there too, her friends in tow. They all basked before her, as if they were trying to catch whatever sunglow she had in excess. Peach kept shooting her nervous looks.

From my vantage point—on a lounge chair in the corner—I saw again what I’d noticed earlier. There were two groups of girls—Erin’s group and another clique. I assumed they belonged to the infamous Stephanie Witts. A couple of them were in the water with some other guys, playing a new game of dunk basketball.

As I watched, one of the girls caught the basketball but turned and glared at Erin.

One of the girls from that group walked by me, and I asked her, “What grade are you?”

She stopped, seeming surprised by my question. “Senior.” Then her lip curved up and she sneered at me.

Silly me. She was a popular senior. Who was I to talk to her?

I ignored my desire to flick her my middle finger and lay back down. With my sunglasses in place, I resumed the antisocial role.

I plugged my earbuds back in and “Glory” from Dermot Kennedy filled my ears. I filled my lungs. Sitting there, with all these strangers around me, in a social scene I didn’t care about, I was having a come-to-Willow moment.

What was I doing there?

This wasn’t my scene, not even if Willow had been with me.

I would’ve been home. I would’ve been with my soccer friends, and if they’d wanted to go and scrimmage, I would’ve tried to talk them out of it. Seriously. Netflix and junk food were way more appealing.

This was Willow’s scene.

She cared about popular girls, about popular guys. She would’ve already scoped out who to maim, who to kill, whose ass to kiss, and who to fuck.

Her world whirled around me.

Their laughter sounded like kids playing on a playground as it filtered through the music. I was in a self-assigned tornado, and everyone else seemed fine.

Why couldn’t I be normal?

Why didn’t I even want to try?

I felt tears fall from my eyes, trickling down behind my sunglasses, and I didn’t care. I never moved. I didn’t wipe my eyes. I wasn’t going to stop them, but I also wasn’t going to keel over in sobbing hiccups. That wasn’t me either.

I didn’t even remember the last time I’d cried before Willow.

She was the sobbing, melodramatic twin. Everything was ending if she got dumped, if she did the dumping. If a friend betrayed her, God forbid, her life was over . . .

Bad choice of words there.

I thumbed over to the music, hitting the next one. I needed a change of tempo if I was going to stick with socially appropriate behavior.

“I Need My Girl” by The National was next.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

I hit forward again.

“Sleep Baby Sleep” by Broods.

Shit.

I should hit it again, and my thumb lingered over the button, but I couldn’t.

The words made me remember that night.

She had been on the floor. Her eyes had been vacant, open. The blood had pooled around her.

I had laid down, my head next to hers, my hands in the same position. Her blood surrounded me, and it had felt like mine.

We would lay together. She would tell me a secret. I would pretend to be excited to hear it.

That’s what we did before, and I pretended that’s what was happening that night as I had lain there.

God.

Fuck.

Shit.

My tears had tripled into a steady flow, and though I hadn’t moved, I knew people would eventually notice.

Letting my music blast, I got up and went inside.

The world was better this way. Having tunes in my ears, I could handle the looks, the questions, the vibes people sent my way. The music protected me. I was in my own world. I didn’t have to feel their shit, whatever it was. It was me and the music—and somehow Willow.

I felt her everywhere.

I’d planned to go upstairs to Joe’s room, but I glanced back.

He and his friends were in the pool playing with the others. That same girl who’d sneered at me was hanging on Joe, attempting to dislodge the ball from his hand. Erin’s group watched from the lounge chairs I’d vacated. Their heads were bent together as they glared at the other girls. Still others were tanning and or laughing on the sidelines.

They were all normal.

I was not.

And I felt her with me.

Suddenly, like she had pulled me there, a blast of anger rose in me.

I wasn’t going to take on her life. That wasn’t my role.

“Fuck you, Willow,” I whispered under my breath as I turned my back on them. I hurried upstairs.

I wanted to grab anything I’d left up there and leave because that was me.

“Hey.”

I turned to find Joe standing in his doorway, his hair wet and water dripping down his chest. He frowned. “You’re leaving?”

Another round of fuck, shit, damn ran through my head. Let’s say it again, folks.

I scowled, flicking away a tear. “Yeah.” I wanted to say more, but my throat wasn’t working.

“Why?”

Let’s go for broke. All the religious swear words flared in my mind before I could speak. “It’s, uh . . .” I gestured behind me, in the direction of the pool. “I shouldn’t be here.”

He repeated, “Why?” His frown turned to a scowl.

“Why do you think?”

He blinked, and his face changed. A sheepish look came over him, and his shoulders hunched forward. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Hanging with you is different from taking on the full social scene down there.” Another pointless hand gesture. “I thought I was fine, and I like your close friends, but this is too much.” I looked out the window. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

His hand was in his hair as if he’d spoken before thinking. He blinked a couple of times and nodded. “Yeah.” His shoulders lifted. “I’ll go with you. Your suitcase is in my truck anyway.”

“Joe—”

“Look, you don’t really say much, and I’ve got a feeling I’m the only one you are talking to, but I know things at your house are sad. And that’s reasonable, but when you feel like shutting the world out, you don’t have to do that to me. I’m not everyone else.”

My heart had been ripped out of my chest, and he was putting it back together.

I laughed but felt my chest growing tight. “Willow would’ve been all over you.”

I hadn’t meant to say that.

His eyes grew keen. “Yeah?”

God. What was I saying? I wasn’t Miss Talky-Shary, but this guy? I shook my head. “Why do you affect me so much?”

“I affect you in a good way, right?”

I bobbed my head. He already knew he did.

“I’ll sneak in.”

I lifted my head. “What?”

“So you can sleep.” He nodded to himself again. “I know where you live, and your room’s on the west side? I’ll sneak in, every night if you want me to.”

“Second floor.”

“I can climb up. You have that big tree by your window.”

“You won’t get in trouble?” He could sneak in and stay until I fell asleep. “If you get caught?”

He shrugged that off, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. He tucked a hand in his swimming shorts’ pocket. “We can improvise, but my mom never checks my room after midnight. I’ll come over after, climb in, sleep. I can set an alarm and slip out before anyone knows. As long as I’m back in my room by seven, I’m good.”

A few hours would be nice.

“Okay.” I was still unsure, but I needed sleep. If I became a zombie, the world was in trouble.

There was a stampede up the stairs.

“Dude!” Tom, Nick, and Pete rushed in, breathless. “Man! We—oh.”

They saw me, and it was like they’d hit an invisible wall.

Tom gave me a nod. “Hey, Mackenzie. How’s it going?”

Pete rubbed his forehead.

Nick rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Tom frowned, glancing at them. “What?”

Joe took two steps toward him and punched him in the shoulder. “You’re being weird. Don’t be weird.”

“Ouch!” Tom rubbed where he’d gotten hit. “What was that for?”

“We were talking.” Joe wasn’t messing around. He glared at Tom. “What do you want?”

Nick and Pete began snickering.

Tom shot them a look, his hand falling away from his shoulder. “We got a text. Mullaly is having a party, and the girls are going over there.” His eyes lit up again, and he turned toward me. “You want to go, Mackenzie?”

But before I could answer, he was looking back at Joe. “We were rushing up here because Nick’s brother said he’d get us booze, but we gotta go now. He’s heading to Lakeville for a college party—”

“Let’s go to the college party.” I winced. The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. What the hell was going on with me?

This was not me. I didn’t care about college parties. If I’d been to one before, it was because someone forced me or tricked me into going. I would’ve needed to be promised Taco Bell on the way home, and maybe I would’ve tried to go in my pajamas. A good fluffy robe was hella sexy.

Joe’s eyes snapped to mine.

Tom’s eyes went round. “What?”

Joe studied me a moment, as if he were looking for something I wasn’t sure was there. I don’t know whether he found it or not, but he turned to Nick. “Would that be okay with Ben, if we went with them?”

“Um . . .” Nick’s lip twisted.

“Let me ask him,” I suggested. Okay, then. I was throwing all caution to the wind.

The guys glanced at each other, and another round of: what the fuck am I doing? circulated my head.

I didn’t even think Willow would’ve done this, or maybe she would have. Maybe she wouldn’t have been happy with tackling the seniors. She might’ve moved on to college guys. I knew she’d started talking to one before we moved. Duke didn’t know it, but he’d been about to be dumped. Sorry, Duke.

I wanted . . . something different.

Apparently, a college party was it for me.

“Nah. Um . . .” Nick frowned. “I’ll text him quick.” He glanced at Joe before adding more quietly, “I can tell him you’re coming.”

Joe’s jaw clenched, and he jerked up a shoulder. “That’s fine.”

I glanced between the two, noticing how quiet everyone else got. “Uh, what’s going on?”

They all looked at Joe, who shook his head briefly. “It’s nothing. Ben’s a big b-ball fan. He’ll want to shoot the shit with me for a bit.”

“Oh.” There was more. I could tell, but after a quick scan, I could tell no one would speak on it. Some unspoken situation had just materialized, and I wasn’t in on it.

Nick’s phone beeped a second later.

“Yeah.” He looked around the room. “He said we could go, but we gotta move now.”

The guys flew around, preparing to change from their trunks to their regular clothes. They forgot I was in the room until Joe snapped at them. Tom and Nick’s hands were pushing their swim shorts down, and they froze.

I threw up a hand and looked at the floor. “I’m good. I’ll grab some clothes and get ready downstairs.”

“Hey.” Joe followed me into the hallway, making sure his door was shut. “You sure about this?”

I jerked up a shoulder. “I think it’s safe to say I’m up for anything right about now.”

Robbie was going to his new school this week. I’d be going to mine.

Who the fuck cared? Right?

“Mackenzie . . .”

I clipped my head to the side. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“If you’re sure.” His eyes were heavy with concern, and the look warmed me, but he was talking to me like I was normal.

Normal died in my twin sister’s puddle of blood.

I slipped away, grabbing some clothes from my suitcase in his truck. I’d planned on using a random downstairs bathroom, but the entire first floor was crowded. The guys were still in Joe’s room, so I looked around, seeing Peach’s door open.

Sorry, Peach, but I’m about to use your shit.

I ducked in. After dressing, I went to her bathroom. She could sue me; I didn’t give a rat’s ass. I used some of her stuff, putting product in my hair, and I went through her makeup too.

We were going to a college party. I had to look the part.

When I finished, I’d aged five years. Heavy eyeliner and eye shadow helped the image.

I pulled on a pair of jean shorts, and I undid one button to shimmy them down an inch on my hips. There. That completed the look.

Joe and his friends were at the front door, and when Joe caught sight of me, his eyes rounded, darkening.

“Whoa.” Pete actually took a step toward me. “You’re fucking hot, Mackenzie.”

Nick snorted and hit him in the arm. “Real smooth, Peepee.”

“Shut up—and what?” Pete gestured to me. “She is.”

“You have to say it in a nice way, a way that doesn’t make us think you’re creeping on Joe’s girl.”

Pete looked from Joe to me, his brows furrowing. “Um . . .”

Joe only raised an eyebrow; his lips remained shut.

Pete’s face reddened, and he coughed. “Mackenzie, you are—”

I snorted, waving at him. “Please stop. We all look good. Let’s leave it at that.”

A satisfied smile settled on his face.

I looked at Nick and narrowed my eyes. “You, on the other hand . . .” He called me Joe’s girl. I should correct him, but after a quick glance at Joe, I didn’t want to. He was staring steadily at me, his eyes heated.

Yep. He was totally affecting me, and I coughed. “Are we ready?”

The guys took off out the front door.

Joe held back till they were gone. Without saying a word, he took my hand. He threaded our fingers together as we headed after them, and I tried to ignore the little flutter in my chest.