by Melissa Grey
Neither one of them had ever been to a high school party. The last party Hana remembered attending was the eighth birthday of another skater at the rink. There had been cake and balloons and little bags with party favors. Her coach had confiscated the slice of cake Hana had been handed by the skater’s mother before she could manage even a single bite.
“No,” he’d said. His accent had been thicker then, before he’d lived in the States long enough to dull its sharp Russian edges. “Cake makes you fat.”
She hadn’t attempted to eat cake since.
“What are we supposed to do?” Hana whispered.
Bex shrugged. “Like you said, blend in. Or, you know, try to.”
Drinks were ladled out of a cut crystal bowl surrounded by matching crystal bowls full of chips, all on a table at the side of the main sitting room. The punch was the unnaturally vivid red of a brand-new crayon. Hana served herself a cup and handed one to Bex. Neither of them drank, but holding the red plastic cup gave her something to do with her hands.
“Bex! You made it!”
Hana had just enough time to step aside before a human-shaped cannonball launched itself at Bex. She plucked the drink out of Bex’s hand before it could spill. A dark-haired girl threw her arms around Bex’s neck and squeezed her tight.
Hana knew the girl’s name only because she’d been called it more than once by teachers at Maplethorpe. Melody’s family was Korean and Hana’s was Japanese, but that didn’t seem to matter to people who thought they looked alike, despite the fact that Melody was a good six inches taller than Hana.
“Oh my god.” Judging by the flush in Melody’s cheeks, she was enjoying the party. “I’m so glad you came.” She grabbed Bex’s hand and started to drag her off. “Come on, let’s go check out the kitchen.”
Bex shot Hana an apologetic look over Melody’s shoulder, but she seemed powerless to stop the tide. It occurred to Hana only then that Melody hadn’t even said hi to her.
“Oh well,” Hana said to no one. She absently took a sip of her drink and immediately regretted it. It managed to taste even worse than it smelled. Truly, an impressive feat.
From her position near the table, Hana was in the perfect spot to watch Chase put their plan into motion. He let Steve lead him over to their group of friends, all athletes and cheerleaders. They congregated around the plush white couch where Summer held court.
Chase said something and they all laughed. Hana wondered what it would be like to blend in as seamlessly as he did. He seemed different from the rest of the jocks, but then, before that day at Lucky’s, she’d thought they were all the same.
She observed the scene from a distance. Steve said something, but he was the only one who laughed. Summer shot him a deadly look, then said something to him that looked like an order. With a grumble, Steve got up and made his way to the snack table. Hana inched away from it, keeping her back to the wall. In Steve’s absence, Summer scooted closer to Chase and wrapped a manicured hand around his bicep.
“Could she be more obvious?” Hana muttered into her cup.
“What?” asked a girl to Hana’s left she hadn’t noticed. The girl was piling a handful of potato chips onto a plate. The kind with ridges. Hana’s favorite. She hadn’t had one in years. Her stomach cramped, empty and dissatisfied.
“Nothing,” Hana said.
With a shrug, the girl walked off.
Hana turned back to the group on the couch. Things had progressed in the seconds her attention had been elsewhere. The group had thinned, with most pairing off into separate conversations. Steve was now chatting to another girl by the snack table, oblivious to what was going on mere feet away.
Summer leaned in close to Chase. Hana winced on his behalf. Summer walked her hands up his chest, tracing the contours of the M on his jacket before spreading her hand to cover it. Hana inched even closer to hear what she was saying.
“Steve didn’t know what he had,” Summer muttered. “You wouldn’t be so horrible to me, though, would you, Chase?”
Her body was slotted against his, connecting them in an unbroken line from hip to shoulder. His hands hovered awkwardly behind her and a little off to the side. He looked like he didn’t know where to put them. “Um, yeah. No. Definitely not.”
As Summer laid her head on Chase’s shoulder, mumbling something about ungrateful boyfriends and all the things she did for hers, Chase wiggled his fingers at Hana. It was very jazz-hands–y. And then it hit her. The plan wouldn’t work if he didn’t have a drink in his hand.
Hana hopped away from the wall, pushing through the crowd of partying teens, away from the table heaped high with snacks, punch, and the red plastic cups. Before tonight, Hana had believed those cups existed solely in movies about stupid high school parties, and not at actual stupid high school parties.
With as much subtlety as she could manage, Hana handed the cup to Chase and kept walking. She stopped when she reached the opposite wall. She leaned back against it and waited. No one paid her any mind.
Chase wasted no time. He gesticulated wildly with his hands while he spoke to Summer. Half the punch sloshed out of the cup and onto Summer’s very tight and very white dress.
Summer leaped to her feet with an indignant shout. With a look over his shoulder, Chase nodded slightly at Hana.
Now it was her turn.
She sprung into action, grabbing a handful of napkins from the snack table and rushing to Summer’s side.
“Oh my god, your dress!” Hana offered Summer the napkins. “Come here, let me help you get cleaned up.”
She took Summer’s hands and led her away from the sitting room and into the hall. Only then did she realize she had no idea where to go.
Summer patted uselessly at her dress with the wad of napkins. “Thanks,” she said forlornly. “But I think this dress is ruined.”
It absolutely was. A bright red stain spread across the snowy fabric, right over Summer’s stomach.
“Where’s your room?” Hana ventured. “I can help you pick out something else.”
Summer looked at Hana, really looked at her, for maybe the first time that night. “I … yeah. Thanks. That’s really sweet.”
A faint tendril of guilt tickled at Hana’s brain, but it was easy enough to brush it away. Summer was actively trying to ruin the life of someone Hana now considered a friend. That wasn’t something that could be forgiven just because Summer showed an inkling of humanity. Righting a wrong had to take precedence.
Summer’s bedroom was as absurdly luxurious as the rest of the house. A large four-poster bed dominated the room, with gauzy white curtains hanging around the mattress. She even had her own en suite bathroom, tiled in the same white marble as the foyer.
Hana watched as Summer slipped off her necklace and dumped it onto her vanity. As Summer slid out of her soiled dress, Hana’s fingers itched. So close.
She waited while Summer turned to her closet (a walk-in) and began rummaging through racks of dresses (designer). While the girl’s back was turned, Hana slipped the necklace off the vanity and into her pocket. She just hoped Summer was too preoccupied to notice.
“What about this one?” Summer asked as she turned around, holding up a canary-yellow bandage dress.
It actually suited her red hair rather nicely. Hana didn’t even have to lie when she said, “It’s perfect.”
Summer beamed. She was a pretty girl when she wasn’t sneering. It was a shame her personality was so ugly. Hana took her phone out of her other pocket and pulled up the group chat.
Phase one complete.
The kitchen of Rawlins Manor—Bex was still not over that name—was a crush of bodies, but Melody didn’t appear to mind as she dragged Bex through the crowd. A few people recognized Bex from school. Most seemed surprised to see her there but not displeased. A handful even shot her positive ratings. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen, but it was no less noisy. A tray of tiny cups filled with multicolored liquid sat on the counter. Melody picked up t
wo, one for herself and one for Bex.
Whatever it was, Bex didn’t want it. And Melody knew Bex didn’t drink. She had too much on her plate.
But even so, Melody held out the small plastic cup. Apparently, tiny disposable glasses were a thing. It was filled with a bright green substance that jiggled like gelatin.
“No, thanks,” Bex said, offering it back to Melody.
Melody refused. She pushed it back toward Bex with that same insistence that Bex both loved and hated about her.
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”
Bex looked around for a place to dispose of the drink, but there wasn’t anywhere obvious to put trash. It simply accumulated on every available surface. Bex placed it on the counter. Let it be someone else’s problem. “Melody, why are you here? You don’t even like Summer.”
Melody quirked her shoulders up in a little shrug. “Summer’s kinda cool actually. She said if I helped her with this thing, then maybe I could go to her family’s ski chalet over winter break. It’s super exclusive. Can you imagine the ratings spike I’d get?”
Bex was only aware that her expression had pulled into a frown when Melody reached out and smoothed the wrinkle that formed between Bex’s eyebrows whenever she did. “What thing, Melody?”
“Oh, nothing major.” Melody shrugged, but she refused to meet Bex’s eyes. Her gaze bounced around the kitchen, from the crumb-covered tray that held a lone cupcake to the oblivious couple making out against the fridge. “There was just some girl who needed to be put in her place is all.”
“Tamsin?” Blood rushed to Bex’s face. She wasn’t mad. Mad was too soft a word. She was … incensed. How could she reconcile Melody—the girl who slept over at her house and hated board games because they were too competitive—with this strange partygoer engaged in a crowdsourced bullying campaign? “Melody, why would you do that?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Melody said with another shrug. “Besides, she was rude to me. She kind of had it coming.”
“Melody …” Bex started. She didn’t know how to finish. Melody knew it was wrong. That was why she wouldn’t look Bex straight in the eye. But Bex’s disapproval had only ever gone so far with her friend. Melody always did exactly what she wanted, whatever the consequences.
This was what the system bred. It swallowed up good people and made them do things they otherwise wouldn’t for the quick high of a ratings bump and the validation of people who shouldn’t have mattered.
“You know, Bex, one of these days you’re gonna have to unclench.” Melody snagged a drink off the tray before leaving Bex alone in that cramped kitchen. “See you Monday. Maybe you’ll be more fun by then.”
* * *
It took Bex longer to find a door to the back garden than felt reasonable. The house—no, the manor—was just that big. It was probably the biggest residence in town. The Rawlinses were the wealthiest family in Jackson Hills, and they wanted everyone to know it.
Once outside, Bex sucked in a deep lungful of air. It was getting chilly, but she vastly preferred the brisk evening to the claustrophobic warmth of the party. The garden wasn’t completely devoid of people, but they were sparsely scattered around. A couple on a nearby bench was making out with as much vigor as the pair in the kitchen. Bex couldn’t imagine shoving her tongue down someone’s throat like that, much less doing it in public. She walked to the other side of the garden, where a gazebo sat, bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights wrapped around its pillars.
Out here, she was almost alone. Alone enough to breathe. Her ears rang in the relative silence. She hadn’t realized how loud it was inside until the noise fell away, relegated to a distant thrumming of the bass drifting from open windows.
“Thought I’d find you out here.”
Bex started. Chase stood behind her, at the base of the short steps leading to the gazebo. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” Bex said, though her heart was still pounding hard enough that she could feel it in her throat. “I just needed some air. Parties aren’t really my thing.”
“It’s cool.” Chase climbed the steps in a single bound—his legs were long enough for it—and came to stand beside her. “It’s not really my scene either.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Bex said.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Bex shrugged and waved a hand at the manor, packed full of people who didn’t just accept Chase’s presence among them. They welcomed it. They courted it. They tolerated Bex, but they wanted him. “Aren’t they your people?”
Chase turned and leaned against the railing, half sitting on it. “Not really. They like having me around because I’m a really good pitcher. That’s sort of where our interests align, but if it wasn’t for baseball, I wouldn’t be here.” He placed one hand on the nearest column, fingers tracing the intricate carving of leaves winding around it. “This is about as far from where I come from as you can get.”
He went silent then. Bex felt like there was a layer to his words beneath the ones he actually spoke out loud. The possibility of excavating that hidden meaning was so tantalizing, so close, she could almost taste it on her tongue.
The soft lighting was kind to him. It emphasized the sharpness of his cheekbones, the angle of his jaw. Her heart was still pounding but for an entirely different reason. One she didn’t quite understand.
So she changed the subject.
“Where’s Hana?” Bex asked.
“She’s hanging back so it doesn’t look like we’re leaving together,” Chase replied. “I think she’s actually helping Summer look for this.”
He slipped the necklace out of his pocket and dangled it in front of Bex’s face.
“She slipped it to me right after she left Summer’s room. Summer didn’t notice a thing. Hana’s, like, a scary good actress. Maybe it’s all that emoting skaters do.”
Bex wrapped her hands around Chase’s and pressed the necklace into his fists. “Oh my god, Chase, put that away before someone sees.”
He laughed, but he tucked the necklace away. Then his eyes widened. “Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to show you this before.”
From his pocket, Chase pulled out a crumpled test booklet, misshapen from having been shoved in his jacket. “Behold, my latest chem test.”
Bex snatched the booklet from him and opened it so quickly she nearly tore off the front page. When she saw the number scrawled in red ink, she nearly dropped the booklet.
76.
“Chase! You passed!”
Chase glanced down, suddenly bashful. “Barely, but yeah.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. This is amazing.” Bex cradled the booklet in her hands. In that moment, it was more precious to her than any 100 she’d ever received. She only reluctantly offered it back to him, and Chase returned the pages to the pocket with the stolen necklace. “I’m really proud of you, Chase.”
He looked at her then, canting his head to the side.
“You know,” said Chase, “that cardigan does look really nice on you.”
Bex shrugged. It was a little snug through the shoulders, which wasn’t surprising considering how petite Hana was. “It’s just a sweater.”
“Take the compliment, Bex.”
“Okay. Fine. Thank you.”
There was a wry curl to his lips when he smiled. “You know I’m not actually talking about the sweater, right?”
Only then did Bex realize that she was still touching one of his hands. He’d only pulled one away to put the necklace back in his pocket. The other had remained under hers.
Oh.
Slowly, painfully slowly, Chase turned his hand in her grasp, unfurling his fingers like a flower opening its petals. He gave her ample time to pull away. When she didn’t, he curled his fingers around hers, linking their hands.
“Would it be okay,” Chase said, as slowly as he’d taken her hand, “if I kissed you right now?�
�
Bex answered without thought, without hesitation, without doubt. “Yes.”
And he did.
His lips were shockingly soft. They moved against hers, slowly, as if he was still seeking permission. As if he was testing to see this was actually okay.
It was. It very much was.
A twig snapped and Bex jumped away from Chase, dropping his hand. The loss felt monumental.
“Oh, I—sorry.” Hana was standing at the base of the gazebo steps, one foot raised a few inches above a thin broken branch. “I can, um, leave. I just—we’re done, so we can … go.” She started walking backward. “Or I can just go and you two can just … yeah. I’m gonna go.”
“No, wait,” Chase said, his words warm and soft with mirth. “It’s fine. I’m glad no one caught you. Though your timing could use some work.”
Hana shuffled her feet in place, looking as though she was unsure if she should approach or retreat. “Honestly, I don’t mind. I can go back in if …”
“No,” Bex said, maybe a little too quickly. Her mother was right. Boys were a distraction. But a really, really, really nice one. “We should get the necklace to Javi ASAP.”
“To be continued?” Chase asked, voice light with hope.
“Awkward,” Hana said as she started walking toward the front lawn and away from the scene of their crime. Chase held out his hand for Bex. After a slender moment’s hesitation, she took it.
“Yeah,” Bex said. “To be continued.”
“I feel like a third wheel,” Tamsin said from her perch on the corner of Javi’s bed. She flipped through an e-sports magazine that featured his grinning likeness on the cover. She’d arrived shortly after Noah.
As nice as it would have been for Javi to have Noah all to himself, Tamsin was a necessary part of the plan. There would be other nights for a metaphorical romantic vehicle with only two wheels.
Javi glanced over his shoulder at her. She didn’t appear to be overly concerned about her third-wheelness. Her posture was relaxed, or as relaxed as it could be considering they were about to commit several misdemeanors and at least one downright felony. Noah put a few inches between himself and Javi; he was standing by Javi’s chair, looking over his shoulder as Javi explained how to access the ratings database. Each city had its own localized server, and the one in Jackson Hills was shockingly easy to get into if you knew what to do. Javi did.
