by Sarah Sutton
But guess what, Lucas? She’s loyal to me.
Despite my being right, though, I couldn’t stop myself from reflexively blinking, silently declaring myself the staring-contest loser.
Lucas sat back in his seat, satisfied. “Are you planning on wearing that tonight?”
“My pretty, pretty princess outfit?”
“Oh, is that what you’re dressed up as?”
I fought the urge to reach over and smack him. “I’d never go out in public in this thing.” You know, if I wasn’t getting paid for it.
Lucas rested both of his elbows onto the countertop, leaning forward until his head rested on the heels of his hands. Peering up at me through his lashes, he said, “Who said anything about going out in public?”
“Dead Baby Killer?” I demanded, holding the DVD case in my hand. The cover art looked so cheap with a picture of a doodled baby on a plain red background. The baby’s eyes, though, were entirely black, and its smile looked smeared with paint. Probably supposed to be blood, but the shade was way too bright. “What kind of stupidity is this?”
“Not stupidity,” Donnie said as he ripped the case away. He was probably afraid I’d throw the DVD case against the wall. “It’s an art.”
Lucas nodded from where he sat on the adjacent couch. We all sat downstairs in Donnie’s finished basement, where the giant flat-screen was positioned against a concrete wall. The couches were well-loved and mismatched. Lucas sat on the red-and-blue plaid sofa, while I sat on the velvet green one. Perfect distance. “Yes, being such a tragically horrible movie is an art. I mean, it’s a thousand-year-old baby who comes back from the dead to go on a killing spree. How epic is that?”
Yeah, so epic.
Donnie knelt in front of the DVD player, analyzing the cases. “We’ve got a good lineup. After Dead Baby Killer, we’re going to watch Zombears and then Nun Zombies 2, because the second is way better than the first.”
“What’s with you guys and the undead? And are you sure we’re going to get through everything in one night?” Please say no.
“Of course,” Lucas said, all but scoffing. “We’ve had longer movie nights before.”
Donnie slid the DVD into the player and pushed to his feet. “I’m going to go make popcorn. We still like extra butter, right?”
“Yes,” Lucas and I answered at the same time.
Once Donnie headed upstairs, I couldn’t ignore the strangeness that hung in the air. Meeting in Donnie’s basement, binge-watching a few movies—it felt like old times. But I never sat on this couch; I always sat on the plaid one with Lucas.
Donnie had a rule about not being too lovey-dovey in front of him, so we’d held hands under the blankets, using it to shield our lovey-dovey moments. But now we sat separated, and my hands were planted firmly in my lap.
This couch was much lumpier than the plaid one.
I drew my knees up to my chest, my leggings stretching with the movement. I’d gone home halfway through helping Gram clean up her trays and lemonade pitchers to change, as per Lucas’s order. Even though I’d hoped otherwise, Gram hadn’t asked me to stay. “Oh, of course, Blaire, go,” she’d said. “You haven’t been out of the house in weeks. You need to live a little.”
Yeah. Ouch.
“Did you ever read your dad’s letter?”
I jerked at the suddenness of Lucas’s voice, immediately thinking about the ugly orange envelope in my backpack. “Aren’t you nosy?”
“Not nosy,” Lucas said now, not even looking at me. He studied the trailers on the TV as if they genuinely interested him. “Just respectfully curious. You did flaunt it in my face the other day.”
My jaw dropped. “I did not! You read it over my shoulder!”
“Mmm,” was all that came from him, nearly drowned out by the music rising on the TV.
I settled back deeper into the sofa cushions. “I know what you’re doing. You’re pretending to be disinterested to get me to tell you. Reverse psychology doesn’t work on me.”
“I think you’re overthinking this, Bee. I was only trying to make conversation.”
Oh, yeah. Right. He’d been Nosy McNoserson the entire time, and he claimed that now he just was “making conversation”? Psh. I didn’t buy it.
I let out a sharp sigh. “If you must know, I kept it, but I didn’t read it. And I’m not going to. I can’t even imagine opening it—the idea makes me sick. I don’t need to hear you give me crap about not reading a letter from my dad, okay? Gram’s got that base covered. Seriously.”
Lucas watched me as I went on my small rant, eyes wide. “You sure are defensive, aren’t you?”
I clenched my teeth together. “You know, I think I’m seeing too much of you. Two days in a row is too much.”
Now his voice sounded amused. “You used to see me every day before.”
Before, before, before.
Gah. Could Donnie take any longer? I folded my arms tight across my chest. “Can you be quiet? I’m trying to watch the trailers.”
I wasn’t. What I was trying to do, though, was effectively block him out. No boy sat on the ugly couch across the room, surely not a boy I’d kissed before. Definitely not an ex-boyfriend. Nope. Not there. The basement was empty, and I sat by myself, watching these crappy trailers.
Once upon a time, Lucas had known every little thing about me. He knew I wanted to open my own bakery one day and decorate cookies and cupcakes until my heart crapped out. He knew I preferred pickles on the side of my sandwiches rather than in it. He knew exactly how I liked my coffee.
Honestly, I wanted nothing more than to confide in him, to crack apart and tell him everything. But this was something about myself that I couldn’t share.
“I can practically hear the hamster wheel in your brain whirling.”
How long does it take to pop popcorn, Donnie?
A sigh came from the direction of the other couch. “Bee, I’m trying hard to understand you, but you’ve got to help me out here.”
I folded my arms across my chest, fully aware how childish I looked. “Oh, I’ve got to, huh?”
“One day, things between us are fine. More than fine—I mean, we almost—”
“Almost nothing,” I cut him off sharply, still glaring at the TV screen. “I don’t have to explain it to you.”
“How would you feel if the tables were turned? How would you feel if, after a night like we spent together, I just broke up with you? No warning, no time to talk about it. That I told you ‘I’m breaking up with you’ and that was it?”
As he spoke, strong emotion filling his voice, my heart began to beat. Faster and faster until I thought I was going to throw up. When I was younger, I thought “I love you” was a feeling that lasted forever. That “I love you” meant “I would never leave you.” That the phrase was a promise, one that could never be broken.
And listening to Lucas become as emotional as I’d ever seen him, I sat among the shards of that broken promise, shattered like glass.
“What does it matter why?” I asked, voice sounding almost silent compared to the roaring blood in my ears. “What does it matter when it changes nothing?”
“You know it matters, Bee.”
Despite my better knowledge, I turned my head to look at him, the pain in my chest spreading everywhere. It wasn’t my own selfish pain. Knowing I was putting Lucas through all this hurt. It made everything so much worse.
Lucas’s gaze remained steady, a pure wave of blue that lapped against white sand. I knew his eyes so well. I knew them well enough to know that when we kissed, they turned into a storm-cloud color, the hue of the sky before it began to rain. And when he grew tired, they practically glowed through his lidded lashes. They got that way when he got angry too. And they got that way when he felt sad.
So now, as I looked at him, his eyes glowing like electricity had been plugged into them, I had no idea what he was feeling—tired, angry, or sad.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I told him honestly.
>
“But you did. And it’s like you don’t even care.”
Denial rose in my throat, sharp and fierce, but the words never left my mouth. I had hurt him. I was still hurting him. Part of this was his fault. He’d pushed to do this friend thing, to do all these fall activities. Yeah, sure, I’d agreed to them, but he’d suggested it in the first place.
But going even earlier than that, the night in the car when I’d broken things off—that’s what he meant.
“I don’t know what’s changed for you,” Lucas said, and he looked away from me, back to the trailers. “But nothing’s changed for me.”
They were the words I wanted to hear—words I’d been craving to hear—but my traitorous mind wouldn’t believe them.
“Popcorn is done,” Donnie announced, thundering down the stairs, oblivious to the weight that clung to the air. He came happily into the room, already munching on a handful of popcorn. “I think I really made it to perfection this time.”
“It’s microwave popcorn,” Lucas chuckled, taking his separate bowl from Donnie. His voice was completely unbothered. “There’s not much to do other than press the start button.”
Just like that, the conversation had been pushed aside. Unfinished. Ignored.
Donnie sat down next to me, fluffing the fuzzy blanket over my legs to make room.
“How is watching crappy movies in your damp basement supposed to get me to love Halloween?” I asked, begrudgingly grabbing some popcorn. My heart still beat fast, a hummingbird released in my ribcage, but at least the rushing of blood wasn’t so loud in my ears anymore.
My voice, too, wasn’t as chaotic as it had been. No, it was level now. Even. Unbothered.
“Scary movies are the epitome of the season,” Donnie said, setting the bowl in the space between our legs. “We picked crappy ones because truly scary movies give Lucas nightmares.”
Lucas’s response came quick. “They do not.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Did you forget what happened when we watched The Mirror Man? You made me video-chat you until you fell asleep.”
He blinked a few times, probably trying to process the change in our mood. “That—that was so not how it happened.”
The night we’d watched that movie had been a while ago, before we’d officially started dating. That night had been like this one—in Donnie’s basement, with Donnie and a bowl of popcorn between us. Lucas and I had been at that stage where we’d both been too afraid to look each other in the eye for longer than a few seconds, like if we looked too long, we’d spontaneously combust. But as I’d laid down to go to sleep, I’d gotten a text from him. Why do the shadows in my closet have faces? I need a distraction.
And he’d video-chatted me, both of us in bed, until our eyes slipped low.
He’d fallen asleep first, lips parted as whatever he’d been saying had trailed off, breathing finally evening out. I could still remember the clear thought in my mind. I’m going to love this boy forever.
“Can we skip to the movie?” I demanded, shoving away the thoughts and memories. They weren’t helpful. Not in the slightest. Grabbing a fistful of popcorn, I settled deeper into the hard couch, trying to ignore how much I wished I was on the plaid one. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You look like a dork.”
Donnie didn’t even glance down at himself as I spoke to him, his expression self-assured. “I do not.”
I pressed my lips tightly together to keep from smiling. “You definitely do. Why are you dressed like a shark?”
Or, at least, that’s what I thought he was supposed to be. The silvery-blue material covered his entire body, accented with a hood and a face hole. It didn’t quite reach his ankles since he was so tall, which made the whole thing look a little silly. An extra bunching of material gathered at his armpits, so his arms stuck out a little at his sides.
A tiny little fin was even attached to his back, and it flapped with each movement he made.
“It’s sea-life dress-up day,” Donnie said in a cheerful voice. “I thought this was pretty clever.”
“Sea-life dress-up day? That’s a thing?”
“It’s spirit week. Remember? Everyone dresses in the costume theme for the day. Monday is sea-life.” Donnie wiggled his arms to punctuate his words.
I’d forgotten that during the week of Halloween, Hallow High hosted a spirit week. They should’ve put that poster on my locker. Not that I would’ve participated either way, but I would’ve been more prepared for the fish and squids roaming the halls. “And you found this?”
Donnie scowled at me, finally handing over my coffee. The costume didn’t have any holes for hands, so he’d had to cup it with his blue fin. “I think my costume looks pretty good, thank you very much. Don’t be a jerk-o-lantern.”
“Oh my gosh, that was so cringy.”
“Hey, I look better than Mike Apton in his stupid clownfish costume. He just painted orange stripes on his shirt. Boooring.”
I smirked as I took my cup, bringing it to my nose to make sure he hadn’t ruined this one too. The delightful bitterness greeted me, making me shiver. “Hey, I have some money for the coffee,” I told him, reaching into my backpack. It hadn’t occurred to me to start paying Donnie—I used to give Lucas money for them, but it had kind of slipped my mind to pay Donnie. Those lattes and espressos added up. I pulled out the small envelope I’d put it in, offering it out to him. “That should cover next month.”
“Sorry, sharks don’t have pockets,” he said automatically.
“Seriously. Take it.”
Donnie wiggled his fin. “I can’t. No fingers. Can’t grab.”
“Fine.” As quickly as I could manage, I shoved the envelope down the face hole of his costume, effectively getting it stuck inside his suit. “It’s like one giant pocket.”
“Aw, come on, Blaire. I’m going to have to take this thing off to get that.”
A group of students hurried down the hallway, all in the same direction. They were dressed as some sort of sea creatures—fish, eels, different things. I caught a girl pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, quickly swiping to the camera mode.
“What’s going on?” I asked Donnie, trying to see what they looked at. “School doesn’t start for ten more minutes.”
“The envelope is poking me in the stomach,” he complained, as if he hadn’t heard me. “What’d you go and put it in an envelope for, anyway? Only rich people buying people off do that. Envelopes are for hush money.”
“You’re so weird, Donnie. And you watch way too much TV.”
The shark stuck his tongue out at me.
I sipped at my espresso, the taste coating my tongue and making it shrivel. Donnie said the bitterness in my coffee rubbed off on me, but I almost thought the opposite was true. Maybe my coffee kept my bitter personality at bay. All the anger and the negativity were held off by the amazingness of coffee. I could buy into that fact.
But my hypothesis proved false when I finally saw what all those students hurried toward, and a huge wave of resentment hit me at once. And pain. Lots of that.
“And you thought my costume was bad,” Donnie said from beside me, pulling his pumpkin-spice nonsense to his lips.
If things were different, I would’ve burst out laughing. I would’ve had to press a hand over my mouth to keep from full-on ugly cackling, because this was a sight to see.
Lucas walked down the hallway clad in a green-and-teal mermaid tail and a bright coral seashell bra. He had on a white t-shirt underneath his bra, but it only made the vibrant color pop more. He’d dampened his hair down to sweep across his forehead, and even from here, it looked dripping wet.
All in all, he looked ridiculous. Worse than Donnie for sure. But that wasn’t what made my insides tie in angry, aching knots.
Hailey Moore walked beside him, in a mermaid tail and seashell bra of her own. Her blonde hair flowed over her shoulders in beautiful waves, and her makeup had contours of pink and purple, blended out
perfectly.
Of course, she looked beautiful.
They weren’t holding hands or even touching, but in my mind, they might as well have had their arms wrapped around each other. Everything was perfectly clear. They planned this.
“It could’ve been an accident,” Donnie said from beside me, easily reading my thoughts. His voice sounded tentative, his expression probably anxious. There would’ve been a tightness to his eyes, his teeth worrying at his lip. “Like they both showed up as the same thing?”
It would’ve been a good argument if their seashell bras weren’t the same color and their tails didn’t match.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said instead, taking a sip of my coffee. I let it fill my mouth, burning my taste buds. “It’s good that she’s doing it with him—no way would I have dressed up like a fish.”
Donnie choked on his pumpkin-spice garbage. “Too bad. What a great Christmas card that would’ve been.”
In that moment, I was the one who felt like a dork in that hallway. The only one not wearing a costume, watching my ex and his ex walk down the hallway with matching outfits. And they couldn’t have dressed as anything ugly, like a stonefish—no, they had to be mermaids, which were beautiful and unique. So not fair.
I wanted to break something.
This time, when Lucas walked past, he never even glanced my way.
I wanted this, didn’t I? Space? So why did it feel as if someone had reached inside and ripped my lungs into shreds?
“Blaire?” Donnie laid a fin on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged it off, slamming my locker shut. “Let’s go to class.”
“But your coffee—”
As I headed in the opposite direction Lucas and Hailey had gone, I tipped my coffee cup high, filling my mouth with the blistering liquid. Neither the heat nor the bitterness chased the feeling away. But the empty cup rattled in my grip as I lowered it, dumping it in a nearby trash can. “All gone,” I told him, knowing I’d be jittery for the rest of the day.
