by Konen, Leah
She didn’t answer, but that was answer enough. “I see,” he said, nodding his head up and down. He threw his arm around her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. His beer can was icy against her skin, and he was holding her too tight. “So you’re telling me that you blew me off so you could do something that I wasn’t even told about with Indie Boy? Am I missing something?”
“Dude,” Jake said, stepping even closer. “It’s no big deal.”
“Dude,” Ben said before looking back to Ella, and back at Jake again. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Hey,” Jake said. “No need to freak out.”
“No need to freak out? Says the guy spending all his time with my girlfriend?”
“All we did was go to a show together. No big deal.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Ben turned back to her, his jaw agape. For a second he didn’t look like angry Ben, like drunk Ben, like super-annoying, insecure Ben. He just looked like Ben. And he looked like he’d been betrayed.
“What is he talking about?” he asked, as if the whole macho thing had been an act until now. As if he’d really trusted her and was just giving Jake a hard time because he’d had one too many beers. The corners of his eyes turned down slightly, and she knew that she’d hurt him. It made her feel selfish. All hollow inside. “I thought you went with Sydney.”
“I never said that,” she said weakly, her voice shaky and soft.
“You never said that?” he yelled. His eyes were still sad but there was something else in them now. Fire. “You sure as hell implied it.” He took another big sip of beer.
“Hey,” Jake said, putting his hand on Ben’s shoulder. Wrong move. “We can work all this out when we’re all a little calmer.”
“Get your hands off me,” Ben said, giving him a shove. “And stay away from my girlfriend.”
“You don’t own her,” Jake said, giving him a shove back. “If she wants to hang out with me, she can.”
“Come on, guys,” she said, but they weren’t looking at her. “Don’t do this.”
But Ben wasn’t one to be pushed. Especially not in this state. She tried to grab his t-shirt, but he shrugged her off, and before she could do anything else, he was pushing back, tackling Jake to the ground. Girls around her screamed and almost on cue, people crowded around as Ben and Jake’s bodies fell to the grass.
“Fight,” an annoying, greasy freshman yelled.
The fight-obsessed losers pushed in front of her, but she wiggled through in time to see Ben throw the first punch. Blood dripped down Jake’s nose, but even though he was so much skinnier than Ben, he rolled away from him and lashed back, pushing him to the ground, his hand connecting with Ben’s eye.
“Stop it,” she pushed herself through and grabbed Jake’s shirt, digging her fingers into his shoulder. “Stop it,” she screamed, but he ignored her, shaking her off. They continued to go at it, and she looked up to see Sydney ushering Max and Carter towards the action. In a matter of seconds, they had pulled the two apart, Max holding Jake back, Carter offering a hand to Ben.
“Jesus,” Ben said, still on the ground. Dirt and blood covered his face.
Jake spit in his direction, his saliva tinged with red. “You know, if you weren’t such a controlling dick maybe she’d want to spend more time with you.”
Ben jumped up at that, but before he could get anywhere, Ella stepped in the middle of them.
“Stop,” she screamed. “Stop it!”
They calmed down, as if only now remembering why they were fighting in the first place. Her.
She turned to Ben. “You’re drunk, okay? We’ll talk about everything in the morning when it’s clearer and you can realize what an ass you’ve been.” Ben shrugged as he wiped some of the dirt from his face.
Then she turned to Jake who looked almost decidedly smug. “I don’t need you to defend me,” she said. “And I don’t need you to mediate my relationship. And I definitely don’t need you to judge who and who is not controlling me,” she snapped. “I’m in control of me. No one else.” And before he could protest, she pushed through the sweaty bodies around her, getting away as quickly as she could.
Sydney was right there, waiting for her, but Ella just shook her head. Between the journal and the cabin and the news about Astrid’s dad and the breakdown in the car and now this, she didn’t have any energy anymore. She didn’t have the energy to be sad. She didn’t have the energy to talk about it. She didn’t have the energy to accept Syddie’s help. She didn’t have the energy to try and forgive Jake or Ben.
“Please,” she said. “I just need to be alone.”
“How are you going to get home?” Sydney asked, but Ella just kept walking.
“Ella,” she said, grabbing onto her arm. “You can’t walk, not this late at night … hold on one sec,” Sydney said, as she disappeared back into the crowd.
Ella let out a sigh. All she wanted to do was go home and go to bed and forget about everyone, everyone in the whole world. Forget about the night. The whole year. Forget about Astrid. Forget they had ever been friends.
Sydney popped up a minute later, dragging Carter with her. “He can drive you,” she said. “He hasn’t had anything to drink yet.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s no big deal,” Carter said. “I can come back as soon as I drop you off. I’m sorry shit hit the fan tonight.”
“It’s okay,” Ella said. “Let’s just go.”
And Sydney gave her a hug — tight — and Carter led the way out, and she followed as quickly as she could because she didn’t want anyone else to try and stop her.
It wasn’t until she was home, until she was in bed, almost reaching sleep, that she heard the ding of her phone. She reached for it reluctantly — she didn’t want to talk to anyone, not Ben or Jake or Sydney — she was prepared to be annoyed.
She had a new text.
She clicked.
And she felt her breath catch in her throat, because it was what she’d asked for, what they’d joined together to beg for tonight. It was the proof that she wanted and needed and feared at the same time. But having it didn’t make her feel good — it only made her feel sick.
A text. A text from Astrid.
It’s all my fault.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Well, I need another drink,” Max said, once Carter was gone and the crowd had cleared. “Mine got spilled by your friend’s asshole boyfriend.”
“He’s not an asshole,” Sydney said, watching as Ben’s football buddies surrounded him on the lawn. She didn’t know what had happened to Jake, and she didn’t care. She’d thought that his flirtation with Ella was cute, funny — something to tease her about — but now she just felt bad for Ben. Even if he had been an asshole.
“Whatever,” Max said. “You want one?”
“Sure.” Sydney followed him to the coolers.
In the distance, one of the football players pushed a blond-haired girl who looked to be about a size 2 into the pool. Sydney rolled her eyes, but Max looked like he enjoyed it. “We just had to come to a football party, didn’t we?” she snapped.
“Well, we’re here now,” he said. “How about something a little stronger?” She followed his gaze. On the porch, there was a bowl of red punch with no ice cubes that looked brutally dangerous.
“Perfect,” she said.
Max went straight to it and filled a plastic cup for him and another for her. He took a big gulp and his Adam’s apple went glug-glug-glug-glug-glug. Sydney stared at the fuchsia stuff in her cup, and for a second, she wondered if this was how alcoholics got their start, if they all had a friend who died or some other stupid thing that they wanted to forget.
“I should drink less,” she said. “When things get better.”
Max just laughed. “As long as you don’t start tonight.”
Sydney nodded without looking up. She took a big sip, and the sound of it — the familiar slurp, the echo i
n her ears as it rushed down her throat — drowned out the thumping bass and the sounds of fake girls giggling by the pool. It sounded like the beginning of forgetting. It sounded like something good.
And she took another sip and promised herself that it wouldn’t always be like this.
• • •
However long later, the world was beginning to spin.
Sydney was sitting on a dusty floor in a room of Pat Whoever’s huge house drinking beer and playing Circle of Death, Max on one side, Carter on the other — he’d come back to the party at some point, and after a few cups of punch seemed just about as drunk as they were.
It was Max’s turn, and he slowly turned over a King.
“Aha,” Sydney said, focusing very hard on the King’s stern face. “You get to make a rule.”
Max stroked his chin slowly, and then his eyes lit up. “I’ve got one,” he said. “When I say so, you have to do whatever I say.”
“That’s not a rule,” Carter said, but his words were already beginning to slur. “That’s bulllllshit.”
“I’m the King!” Max yelled. “I can do it if I want.” He burst into laughter.
“That’s not a ruuullle,” Carter said again, but Sydney could see that his eyes were drooping. He set his beer down and leaned back on his elbows and scooted towards the couch. He’d be out in seconds.
She pulled herself up, knocking her cup over, but it didn’t really matter because it was empty, and she scanned the room until she found what she needed.
Bingo!
She grabbed a big fluffy pillow and stumbled over to Carter. He was lying on the floor, and she tucked it under his head. “There.”
She sat back down and Max was staring at her.
“How about my rule?”
“Huh?” she asked.
“You have to do what I say.”
“And what’s that?” she asked. The room was definitely spinning now. Carter was beginning to snore.
“When I ask, you have to kiss me.”
Sydney shook her head, leaning back, far away from him. Far, far away from him. That’s not what he was supposed to say. She didn’t want to kiss Max anyway. He wasn’t the one she wanted anymore.
But Max took it as an invitation. He leaned forward again, put his hand on her cheek, guiding her back. “Come on, Syddie,” he said.
And he didn’t ask, not really. And she tried to focus, to squint away all the blurriness, as he brushed his thumb along her mouth, parting her lips, and pressed his to hers.
Her head was saying, no no no, but her mouth wasn’t. It was opening, letting him in, because it made her feel so comforted, so wanted — and most of all, it let her forget — but then she opened her eyes for a split second, and in the midst of the spins, she saw Carter’s face, looking back at her, more awake than he’d been before.
And she remembered why she’d wanted to say no, and she pulled back, pushing Max away with both hands. She glanced at Carter again. He was flipped over, feigning sleep. Or maybe he was asleep. Maybe he didn’t care as much as she thought he did. Maybe he didn’t want what she wanted.
It didn’t matter. “I can’t do this,” Sydney stammered. “I can’t.”
“What?” Max asked, the comforting tone instantly gone from his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, shaking her head. And she crawled over to the couch and pulled herself onto it and wished that none of it had ever happened. She wished she could change so much.
And she heard Max get up and she heard him call her a cock-tease, but she didn’t care. She just kept her eyes shut tight and kept on wishing that this night had never happened until her tiredness took over and the spinning finally stopped.
• • •
She woke up to a pounding headache and a ceiling she didn’t recognize.
“Ughhh,” she heard below her, and she turned to see Carter, and for a second, she wondered if something had happened between them … but then she saw the tipped-over cans of beer and the cards scattered on the floor, and it hit her, worse than a headache. The séance, the thumping, the fight, the truth about Astrid’s dad, the punch, the beer, the kiss … but it was more than that, it was Carter. Carter had seen them kiss … Carter must think …
“Ughhhhh,” he said again.
“Are you okay?” Sydney asked.
He nodded, slowly pulling himself up to a sitting position so his face was right near hers. She sat up, too, and her new angle gave her a view of the room. They were in some type of home office. Cans were everywhere, and an empty bottle of Jack was turned on its side, as if even it were hungover.
Why oh why had she said yes to that punch?
Why had she let Max kiss her in front of Carter?
Hell, why had she let him kiss her at all?
The thought made her hurt now, deep in her chest. She took a deep breath. Through the doorway, she could see more people, still passed out. She wished that she were still asleep.
“Last night was …”
“Stupid,” Carter said. It wasn’t like him to interrupt her. It wasn’t like him to interrupt anyone.
“Yes,” she said. “Stupid.”
Carter’s hair was rumpled, and his face was pale, and he looked like he just needed a hug and a shower and a good painkiller.
She could at least give him that.
“I have Advil in my purse if you want it,” she said.
But Carter shook his head. She’d forgotten. Guys were always too tough for painkillers. Just complain and bear it. Even nice guys like Carter.
“I’m sorry about — ”
But Carter held up his hand. So close that it almost touched her lips. He moved it back a couple of inches, and her heart beat fast again.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said.
And he looked so sweet and understanding and so … so Carter, that she couldn’t help it. She leaned closer.
“Don’t be mad at me,” she said. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
She put her hand on his cheek — she could give him what he’d always wanted — right here, right now. She closed her eyes and met his lips, and it surprised her, took her breath away, because it was everything she wanted, too, all that she needed wrapped into one touch, one moment, one other world far away from this one. Where you closed your eyes and found happiness. Where you found escape.
But it was just a moment.
Carter pushed her away with both hands.
Her mouth hung partway open, and she stared at him, but his eyes weren’t Carter-tender now. His eyes were hot with fire and anger. She didn’t know if she’d ever really even seen it in him before.
“You made out with Max just last night,” he said.
Sydney shook her head. She tried to lean closer, but he pulled back and jumped up. “I guess I’m just next in line?” In the hall, she could hear people starting to move around.
“No,” Sydney said, standing up now, too. She shook her head. “No. Not at all. I thought you wanted me to.”
Carter shook his head. He was so much taller, so much bigger than her. He looked down at her like she didn’t deserve to breathe the air so high up where he was.
“You know you can’t just toy around with people,” he said. “Just because you’re upset. Just because you’re drunk. I’m sick of it,” he said.
“No,” she said, her voice cracking now. “No.”
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Carter said. And he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. She didn’t have the heart to follow him. She knew that he wouldn’t listen to her anyway. She’d screwed this one up. She’d royally screwed it up.
Instead, she waited until she was sure he had gone, and she grabbed her purse and opened the door and walked slowly out into the main room. Some people were still on couches, others just starting to get up. One girl stared at her like she’d heard the whole thing.
But Sydney just kept her head down
and walked out of the wretched place.
She’d lost way too much by now to care.
• • •
When she got home she didn’t go inside. She just got in her car and drove.
It wasn’t long before she reached Audie’s. She parked, walked through the shop without saying a word to her uncle, and pushed through the beads before anyone could object. “Audie,” she called. “Audie, are you there?”
Her aunt appeared in seconds. “Sydney,” she said. “My goodness in heaven, are you okay?”
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror — her hair was all over the place, her mouth sported a ring of red from that God-awful punch. The area around her eyes was black-tinged, raccoon-like. She didn’t care.
“I need to talk,” she said. “Can we sit down?”
“Did something happen? Are you alright?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “I mean, I’m not. But I’m not hurt or anything. Don’t worry.”
Audie nodded and quickly led her into the living room. It was covered in floral chintz, knit afghans, and vibrant hues. She sat down, and Audie perched next to her so that their knees were barely touching. She looked worried, and as Sydney realized what she was about to tell her, she almost felt bad for dragging her into this mess.
“What is it?” Audie asked quietly. “You can tell me.”
Sydney took a deep breath. She had to say it. It would make it real.
“Astrid’s dad isn’t dead.”
The gasp was audible. Audie just stared. She didn’t protest. She didn’t object.
“Wait, you believe me?”
Audie shook her head, closing her eyes. Then she opened them up quickly, pulling herself together. She placed one hand carefully on each knee. She seemed to remember all of a sudden that she was the adult in this situation.
“I’m so sorry that you — that she — I mean,” Audie paused for breath. “I don’t know what to say.”
“But you believe me. I expected you to say that it wasn’t possible. Just the other week you said that — ”
“I know,” Audie said with force, before collecting herself. “I’m sorry. I know what I said, and believe me, it’s what I thought. I mean, it’s what I had to think.”
