Elin stopped fiddling with her bracelets, crossing her arms impatiently. “What is taking so long?” she said, not even bothering to keep her voice down.
“Do you think Will’s giving Rosie the make good choices talk?” Ket mused, checking her reflection in a compact mirror for the billionth time.
I shrugged. “That would be nice.”
Ket snapped her compact shut and raised her eyebrows at me. “You think Rosie needs it, though?”
Rosie needs someone who gives a shit besides us. I smiled and shrugged. “Probably not.”
Rosie appeared around the corner, snapping her silver clutch purse shut. She smiled, hers as phony as mine. “You guys ready to go?”
“Yay!” cried Elin, throwing an arm around Rosie’s shoulders. I winced. If this pill didn’t kick in soon, I didn’t know what I was going to do for the rest of the night. Elin’s voice was set to microphone squeal.
Rosie’s stepdad came out of the kitchen waving his iPhone. “Just one minute for pictures? I gotta send this to Rosie’s mom.”
Elin and Ket laughed, vamping for the camera at the foot of the stairs, and Rosie and I exchanged a rueful glance. Anyone who had ever met Rosie’s mom knew she couldn’t care less about prom—her stepdad was just trying to pretend he wasn’t sentimental. But we arranged ourselves next to Elin and Ket obligingly.
“Squeeze in,” Will instructed, waving at me, and I forced my smile even wider as I leaned into Elin.
“Text me the good ones,” Ket demanded as Will snapped a few pics.
“Not in a million years,” Will said, never losing his good-natured grin.
Elin glanced over at Ket. “What would you even do with his number if he finally gave it to you?”
Ket laughed, shrugging.
Will handed his phone to Rosie. “Approve the ones you like, delete the rest.”
We crowded around the screen, picking apart the images that Will had snapped. “I look bad in all of them,” Rosie declared, and Ket shushed her.
I might have felt like crap, but at least I looked good. Rosie had put my hair up with a bejeweled headband this close to full-blown tiara. My gown had a sweetheart neckline and an enormous hot pink tulle skirt. Pink might not have been the best choice for my red hair, but I wanted the princessiest dress ever made. Archetypal: recurrent as a symbol or motif in literature, art, or mythology. I’d get my perfect photos with my perfect boyfriend, and then I’d hang them in my dorm room this fall. The capstone to a well-executed high school experience.
Unfortunately, the strapless top was a little loose—I’d bought it weeks ago, and between debate, officers meetings, and extra track practices, I must have lost weight. Thank goodness for double-sided tape.
The weird thing was, if you had asked me before, I would have genuinely thought prom was a quintessential part of high school. But getting ready in Rosie’s mom’s bathroom, unable to stop thinking about my best friend drowning in a tub, left me feeling like a balloon with its helium let out. None of my smiles in Will’s photos reached my eyes.
So I studied my friends. Ket took great photos—if she weren’t my friend, I’d be completely annoyed. It was like her expressions came pre-photoshopped. Elin looked perfect, her makeup all glowy, and I felt a swell of pride for helping her with her stupid parent scheme.
But it was Rosie who had knocked it out of the park. Not that she’d believe me if I said it—the girl had a serious Carrie complex. One compliment had her looking for the bucket of pig’s blood. I pointed at the only shot where she was smiling. “That’s the one,” I said, and Elin and Ket agreed.
Ket and Rosie grabbed a few bottles of water from the fridge. I grabbed my purse and keys, trying to shake off my funk.
We made our way down the front walk of Rosie’s house, careful on the cobblestones. I climbed into the car, tucking my tulle skirt before I shut the door. Ket claimed the passenger seat and immediately put an eardrum-bursting song on the radio. I ground my teeth together.
Rosie climbed into the seat behind me. I glanced at her in my mirror—she was propping her arm on the door and resting her cheek against her palm. I felt a rush of sympathy. Rosie was a fun-hater by nature. We’d all accepted that about her—the way she could laugh and joke in a small group, but shut down in a crowd, like an armadillo curling in on itself. She probably hated this prom plan even more than I did, but she was doing her best.
Still. If we were both this tired now, I had no idea how we were going keep up with Elin and Ket all night. I’d tried to nap after my run but had woken up in a panic after barely thirty minutes. Pep up, Jen.
My phone buzzed, emitting a cheerful blip-blip! that alerted me to a text message. “Would you read it to me?” I asked Ket as I pulled into traffic.
She pulled it out of my purse. “It’s from Miles,” she said. “He says, ‘The dance is going to go great, J! See you at 9.’ Aww, and he added heart-eyes and a smiley poop.”
“He’s so sweet,” Elin said.
I smiled faintly. “Yeah, he is,” I said quietly.
I loved Miles, and when he said he loved me, I believed him. But I had a sneaking suspicion that, if he had any idea about how pissed off I always was lately, about everything, he wouldn’t like me very much.
So I pretty much never told him.
8
Ket West-Beauchamp
April 18, 5:45 PM
We were going to prom. I was a senior. My friend wasn’t dead.
That short list might have seemed a little shabby a few weeks ago, but today I felt like the Queen of the Universe.
Unfortunately, I was going to a party hosted by a girl who actually was Queen of the Universe, filled with people I could barely tolerate and a few I’d hooked up with—which wasn’t much better.
The things I do for friendship, man.
My phone buzzed and I swiped open my text messages.
TEDDY: Have I told you lately that your heart is true?
You might even say … you’re a pal.
I’d go so far as to say, a confidant.
I slapped my hand over my mouth to avoid laughing out loud. Teddy was finally watching Golden Girls. Elin and I had started marathoning it after school—okay, during school when we wanted to sluff gym—once Elin got back from the hospital and needed a distraction. We had assumed it would be dumb, but it was actually kind of the shit.
I’m jealous of you right now, I typed as Jenna jerked along curving streets. She had insisted on getting a manual since that’s What Adults Do but had yet to learn how to avoid stalling whenever she encountered a hill. Which, Newsflash, was basically all of Park City.
Elin tapped the back of my seat and I twisted around to face her. “You’re excited to party, right?” she said, raising her voice over the beat of the music.
“Always!” I said with a grin.
“Good! You’re the party mascot and you’re being really quiet.” She wagged a finger at me and I laughed, grabbing at it.
Three songs later, Jenna was pulling onto a skinny street loaded with cars. We found a parking spot a few doors down and walked to Fisher’s, high heels clicking against the sidewalk. Elin and I clung to each other, giggling, as Jenna rang the doorbell.
Fisher opened the door and she and Elin burst into Hug and Squeal Mode. Rosie raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged, baffled. We stepped over the threshold, me checking out everything as subtly as I could. Fisher’s party condo was exactly what I’d expected: granite countertops, leather furniture, giant flat screen, thumping stereo system. I scowled.
Standing in that “condo,” which was probably bigger than my actual house, I couldn’t help but resent Fisher Reese a little more. Mama Leanne was a nurse and Mom Kim taught preschool—it’s not like we were broke, but we definitely only lived where we did because Mama Leanne had inherited our ramshackle little home from her grandma. And while it didn’t bug me—much—that everyone around me seemed to have money to burn while my moms drove shitty cars and fixed broken appliances w
ith Duct tape, people like Fisher Reese set my teeth on edge. Casually rich assholes getting richer renting out their extra houses to even bigger, richer assholes every Sundance, all the while acting like it was all No Big Deal.
Elin wandered off to gossip with Fisher, Rosie landed on the couch, and Jenna started drinking—Jenna.
I sighed, opening my purse to find my phone so I could text Teddy. Fisher appeared at my side, putting her manicured hand on my arm. I blinked, glancing up at her. “There’s no smoking in my condo,” she said, her smile corn-syrupy sweet.
I blinked, too stunned to roll my eyes. “Duh,” I said. “I would never smoke in someone’s house.”
Fisher took her hand off my arm, and I couldn’t help but notice the stupid diamond bracelet sparkling on her wrist. “It’s just a really nasty habit,” she said, blue eyes wide. Concern Trolling Level: Expert. “My grandma died of lung cancer.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, turning away.
I strolled into the kitchen and poured myself a drink as I mentally went through the comebacks I should have used on Fisher. I flirted with Sam Houston to make myself feel better. His ineffectually glaring date actually did boost my spirits.
Elin eventually found her way into the kitchen and grabbed a hard cider, winking at me as she wandered back into the living room. She wasn’t supposed to be drinking, but she’d know better than me what she could handle. Besides, I had already screwed up in the Elin Department—not that she would ever know that, ideally—so I was inclined to give her basically anything she asked for. Hence the condoms and plotting.
Vaughn appeared at my elbow, leaning into my personal space. He brushed my outer thigh with his index finger. “Hey Beauchamp, haven’t seen you in a while.”
I sipped my juice, ignoring him. There were many reasons I had broken up with Vaughn—the fact that he refused to use my full last name fell somewhere around his insistence on calling me his “exotic princess” no matter how many times I told him it was gross.
Vaughn leaned against the counter, blocking me off from conversation with everyone else. I sighed, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “What do you want?”
He shrugged, offering a sly grin that I’m sure he thought was the Panty Dropper 3000. I kept my expression neutral, refusing to acknowledge that I’d succumbed to his charms once or twice before. “I don’t know … you don’t have a date, I don’t have a date. I thought we could party.”
“We are partying,” I pointed out, turning to walk back into the living room.
Vaughn snaked one arm around my waist before I could take two steps, pressing himself against my back. Subtle. “I saw you staring at me before,” he murmured in my ear. “There are empty bedrooms upstairs.”
I paused for one second so he could think he’d won. I stepped forward deliberately, turning slowly to face him as I backed away. “I don’t think so,” I said with a Not In A Million Years grin.
Vaughn laughed. I had to give him one thing—dude knew how to let an insult roll off his back. “Come on, Beauchamp. I’ve missed hanging out with you.” He waggled his eyebrows. Juuuust enough to hint that it wasn’t my stellar jokes he’d been longing for.
I smiled despite myself. I had to admit … the thought was tempting.
I’d thought I was over Vaughn. He was selfish and douchey and he used way too much hair product. But looking at him standing there, and thinking about the prospect of a dateless prom hanging out with Rosie the Chaste, Jenna the Increasingly Inebriated, and Elin the … well, I couldn’t think of a great moniker for her at that moment … I wavered.
Dude always was a good time, I thought.
And boredom always was my Sex-Kryptonite.
Vaughn smiled. “I know you, Beauchamp. You’re just prolonging the inevitable.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Jenna was drinking, Elin was moping, Rosie was reading, and this party officially sucked. “Give me thirty minutes,” I murmured. “I have something I have to do.”
9
BEFORE
Elin Angstrom
November 24, 6:30 PM
The knife slipped and Elin winced as blood dripped onto the marble countertop. Cat hissed involuntarily. “Be careful!” she scolded, rushing to grab a paper towel.
Elin scowled as Cat pressed the towel against her finger, which was sending painful throbs up to her wrist. “Thanks for the advice,” she muttered.
Cat rolled her eyes, her meager caretaker instincts exhausted. “Go upstairs and clean that. I’ll finish.”
Elin could hardly argue, so she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. They were almost done making their salad anyway—the pies had been cooling for an hour.
Elin’s family had been going over to Jenna’s house for Thanksgiving every other year for as long as Elin could remember. The Sinclairs were the sort of family friends that were more family than friend. This year her brother Aron was spending the holiday with his boyfriend in California and Jenna’s brother Blake was bringing his girlfriend home, but otherwise the traditional bi-annual Angstrom-Sinclair Thanksgiving was going exactly according to plan. The Sinclair house was the perfect holiday house. The armchairs were squishy, cinnamon-scented candles burned in every room, and Jenna’s grandparents seemed like they’d popped straight out of a storybook. Her grandma wore hand-knit sweaters and offered hugs freely. Her grandpa would be wearing a Buckeyes sweatshirt and would make at least two jokes “forgetting” about Jenna’s vegetarianism. Elin loved borrowing Jenna’s grandparents for the day.
Elin took her time washing the cut, which was deeper than she’d thought. Unlike Cat, Elin had never been grossed out by blood. She studied it, wondering if it would need stitches. She supposed she could ask Jenna’s dad. She sorted through her medicine cabinet, looking for Neosporin. She dabbed it on slowly, methodically. She wasn’t any good at food prep anyway.
“Elin, hurry,” Cat called from downstairs. “We’re ready to go, and Mom’s baked brie is getting cold!”
“Coming!” Elin called, wrapping her stinging finger with a Band-Aid and running back downstairs. Her parents and Cat were waiting, holding all the food they were bringing. How long had she been in the bathroom? It had only seemed like a couple minutes.
She had been looking forward to this day for weeks. Everything at school sucked lately. It was like the teachers didn’t know that senior grades hardly counted. She and Ben had been bickering over her disinterest in classes. And it seemed like her friends were getting too busy for her. Cross-country had ended and now Rosie was spending more time at her dad’s, arriving at school each morning looking exhausted from the drive. Teddy was spending even more time than usual practicing guitar. Jenna was always doing something for student council. And Ket was around, but hanging out with Ket solo required more energy than Elin had these days.
Thanksgiving was a reprieve, a break from the mundane crap that exhausted her.
The Angstroms lived a few blocks from the Sinclairs, so they walked, balancing pies and appetizers in the brisk autumn air. Jenna met them at the door with her red hair in two braids, glasses, no makeup. “We just put on Princess Bride,” she told Elin, taking a pie from Elin’s father. “Ooh, did you make the caramel apple one again?”
It was the perfect Thanksgiving. She, Cat, Holly, and Jenna had watched a movie in the basement while they waited for the turkey to finish roasting, the sounds of cheering coming from the living room where a football game was on TV. Jenna’s grandmother had gushed over her blonde hair and heaped extra mashed potatoes on her plate. Lily snuggled between Elin’s and Jenna’s feet, waiting for Elin to feed her scraps of turkey, and Elin ate until she felt like she could burst. After dinner, Jenna’s grandparents retired to their room for a nap while everyone else broke out the board games. Jenna and Elin’s father battled fiercely for control of real estate on the Monopoly board until everyone else insisted they call it quits.
But as the night wore on, Elin fought a growing sense of disquiet. Which made no sense. She was s
o happy today.
So what was the problem?
Eventually it was time for pie. Elin helped herself to a slice of butter rum cream and pumpkin, hoping some sugar would cure her. Jenna’s dad won the battle to pick the movie they would watch during dessert. He picked a subtitled kung-fu movie, a choice he must have regretted as he had to pause it roughly every ten minutes to explain what was going on.
“So Biyu has saved Po’s life, which means she is now responsible for him,” Jenna’s dad said to Elin’s mom.
“Isn’t that Wookiees?” Jenna asked, not glancing up from her phone. She and Elin were sharing the oversized beanbag in the middle of the room. Jenna was texting with Miles, who was in California.
“No, if you save a Wookiee’s life, the Wookiee owes you a life debt,” Jenna’s dad said patiently. “In kung-fu movies, if you save someone’s life, you’re responsible for them forever because you’ve changed their destiny.”
“I’m not sure that’s an accurate representation of Chinese culture,” Jenna’s mother said, waving a forkful of pumpkin pie. Holly and Jenna smirked at each other over their phones, and Elin felt a vague pang of jealousy. Holly and Cat had been best friends for even longer than Jenna and Elin had been best friends, and yet, Holly never left Jenna out of sisterly things while Cat always seemed vaguely irritated by Elin’s presence.
“Probably not,” Jenna’s dad said, shrugging like that was irrelevant.
“It doesn’t seem fair, though,” Elin’s dad remarked, his Swedish accent slightly thicker after a couple glasses of wine.
“Yeah,” Cat said. “Why would anyone save anyone if it meant they had to watch out for them for the rest of their lives?”
“With great power, comes great responsibility. Really great responsibility,” Elin whispered to Jenna, who choked back a laugh. Elin grinned—and then felt that growing sense of unrest again.
Jenna’s dad rolled his eyes. “It’s just a movie, people. Can we watch it already?”
When the Truth Unravels Page 4
