by Erin Watt
Piece of trash? This car is as nice as mine. “Whose is it?”
“Debbie’s son’s.”
“Debbie?”
“Our housekeeper.” Jeff flips me a cord. “Jack in your phone and play some tunes.”
I hesitate, my hand on the door handle. Maybe we should take something else? There’s my perfectly good car sitting in the garage at my house. Jeff’s so good at talking my dad into anything, maybe the Jeff magic would work on my car.
I open my mouth to suggest it, but Jeff presses the gas and guns the car down the driveway.
“What happens if it gets boosted?” I ask as I buckle in.
“Not my concern. They should have insurance or something,” he says cavalierly.
I run a hand against the cloth interior. The car smells vaguely like lemons and the interior is spotless. Even the floor mats look like they’ve been recently vacuumed. Whoever the housekeeper’s son is, he loves this car.
“I hope nothing happens to it.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jeff says. “If anything does happen, he’ll probably get a new one from the insurance company.”
I’m not certain that’s how insurance works, but Jeff’s so confident. Besides, he’d know the son better than me. I force myself to relax into the cushions. “Okay.”
Jeff reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Look at you being all thoughtful. It’s cute.”
I ignore the prickle of discomfort I feel at being called “cute” by Rachel’s boyfriend. Jeff’s doing me a favor. If he wants to call me cute, then I’ll deal.
We drive for a bit in silence. My mind drifts back to school and Chase. I wonder if it would be better if he left. This is Rachel’s school. Her name is actually on a tiny “in memoriam” plaque near the music room. The reminders have to bother him, right? I wish I could get away from all the memories, so it must be just as bad for him.
“Do you think Chase should leave Darling?” I ask Jeff. Jeff must be haunted by Rachel, too, although he doesn’t seem like it. His two years away must’ve helped a lot. If it was me, I would’ve stayed in London.
“Chase?”
“Charlie Donnelly.”
“You call him Chase?”
I squirm in my seat at Jeff’s incredulous tone. “He told me that was his name.”
Jeff heaves a huge sigh. “Lizzie—I mean, Beth, you’re a little too innocent for your own good. If you call him by a nickname, he’s going to think he’s forgiven for what he did.”
“And you don’t think he should be...forgiven, that is,” I tack on at the end.
“No. He killed your sister,” Jeff says, his tone flat. Unstated is the message that he shouldn’t even have to remind me of this.
I slink down in the seat, guilt pressing heavy on my shoulders. Yes, Charlie ran his car into Rachel. Yes, he’s responsible for her death. If I’d known that Chase was Charlie, I would’ve run in the opposite direction. Instead, I threw myself at him and now we both regret it.
Worse, I don’t think I regret it more than him, which means I’m less worthy of forgiveness than Chase. I should hate Chase. The same amount of loathing that colors Jeff’s words when he speaks about Chase should be in mine. I should’ve thought of the nickname Manson and I should be the one throwing spitballs at his back. I should be in the principal’s office every day demanding that Charlie Donnelly be expelled from Darling High.
But I’m not doing any of that. I can’t stop thinking about the party and our connection and then the sex. In Health, you talk about venereal diseases and other physical dangers. There’s no discussion about the emotional danger. And I didn’t get any talk of that at home. Mom gave me an American Girl doll book on sex ed and Rachel said that I was too young to even think about it.
“Hey, we’re here,” Jeff announces, breaking into my sex-crazed train of thought. “Wow, this place looks shittier than I thought it would be.”
He reaches past me and opens his glove compartment. A black shiny thing glints menacingly in the dim light of the interior.
“Is that... Oh my God, do you have a gun?” I gape at him.
He slams the compartment shut. “It’s Darling, Beth. Everyone has a gun. Your dad sells them in his hardware store.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t have one in his glove compartment,” I mutter as I get out of the car.
“Look at this rat hole.” He joins me on the curb. “I should be bringing my piece inside.”
The image of preppy Jeffrey Corsen walking around with a handgun tucked into the waistband of his three-hundred-dollar Citizens of Humanity jeans is so unintentionally hilarious I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t burst out laughing. I can’t believe he called it a piece.
“I’m glad you aren’t,” I manage to say civilly.
He scowls and pushes me forward. “This place looks like it should be condemned. Are you sure you want to go in?”
“We drove all the way here—it’s dumb to leave without even checking it out. And I don’t think it’s so bad.” The house is small, but tidy. The lawn is perfectly kept and there are actually window boxes in the front.
“You’re too nice.” He bounds up the stairs and jabs the doorbell.
The door opens and a beautiful girl appears with amazing hair and deep, dark eyes. “Yes?” An imperious eyebrow rises.
Jeff’s starstruck. He stammers. “I... We’re... Us...” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder.
I peek around his arm and offer an assist. “We’re here for the party.”
“Oh, come on in. No drinking in the house. No drugs and you have to blow into that before you can drive home.” She nods toward a small black machine sitting on a side table.
“Are you sure this is a party? There are more rules here than at the Darling Country Club,” Jeff jokes. “If you want to have more fun, I could find us something. What’s your name?”
“Us as in your friend and you? You don’t need my name for that.” With the flip of her glossy hair, she walks off.
“Wow, what a bitch,” Jeff says loudly.
“Jeff.” I tug on his arm, embarrassed. Fortunately, I don’t think the gorgeous girl heard him.
“Seriously. I was being nice. They wouldn’t let her into Darling Country Club if she begged.”
He might be right, but not because the girl doesn’t belong. Because Darling Country Club is primarily a bunch of old white men who grew up thinking segregation was the key to a successful society, at least according to Scarlett’s mom, who knits pink Pussyhats in her spare time.
“Do you want to leave?” I ask, because I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable standing next to Jeff. He looks like he wants to declare war on the people who are throwing the party.
“We’ll see. Maybe it’s better away from her.” He takes my arm and pulls me toward the hall where the noise seems to be coming from. We pass a living room and spotless kitchen and end up in the back on a deck.
There are about thirty people here and it feels like every one of them turns to stare at us when we step out of the house. Several are either in or crowded around the hot tub in the corner of the small yard. About eight guys, half of them shirtless, are playing a game of flag football. The rest are sprawled on the wooden deck or on the lawn.
“Oh fuck, it’s Manson.” Jeff’s voice rises to an obnoxious level. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Manson?
I spin in the direction Jeff’s pointing to see Chase sitting in a lounge chair in the back corner, smoking a cigarette. Another pretty girl, her hair all in braids, sits at his feet. It’s dark where they’re located, so that’s probably why I missed them the first time around.
I can’t believe he’s here. One of the reasons I wanted to come to this party was for a distraction, so I’d stop obsessing over the guy. But he’s here. How does he even know any of these Lincoln
kids—
He used to live in this neighborhood, I suddenly remember. That’s what someone at school said, that Chase’s mom lived in Lincoln before she married the mayor of Darling. He would’ve spent all his summers here.
“Manson? There’s no one here by that name.” A tall, built boy climbs up the deck stairs. “Who’re you?”
Jeff ignores the question and keeps talking. “Charles Donnelley is right over there. He killed Beth’s sister three years ago and he just got out of prison. Isn’t that right, Manson?”
I flush all over. If a house could fall on me right this minute, I’d be happy. Instead, I watch as everyone swivels toward Chase. Again, because of me, he’s the subject of unwanted attention.
I guess this is why I can’t hate him. The rest of the world does it for me.
I open my mouth to explain, but the boy on the stairs speaks first.
“Dude, we already knew that. Why do you think we’re having this party in the first place? It’s Chase’s welcome-home bash.” He finishes climbing the steps until he’s practically toe-to-toe with Jeff. “And you’re ruining our vibe, so why don’t you and your girl here show yourselves to the door.”
“Like I’d want to hang out with losers like you.” Jeff grabs my arm. “We’re going. It stinks in here anyway. I’ve crapped in toilets nicer than this place.”
The boy steps closer to us.
“We’re sorry,” I say hurriedly. “We’ll be going now.”
This time it’s me grabbing Jeff’s arm and pulling. Jeff doesn’t balk, but he does complain, “Why’d you say I was sorry? I’m not sorry. These guys are assholes. Who throws a welcome-home party for a killer? No one but a bunch of lowlifes.”
“Jeff, there’s like thirty of them and two of us,” I hiss. “Can you shut up before we get destroyed?”
He jerks out of my grip. “Whose side are you on?”
“What are you talking about?”
We reach the sidewalk and he pins me with a glare that chills my bare arms. “I’m asking you why you’re always defending Manson.” His voice is low.
Guilt makes me defensive. “I’m not always defending him. I did it once and that’s because you were all giving me a headache. I’m tired of hearing about him.”
“Then you should go to the principal’s office and get him kicked out.”
“No. I don’t want to do that.” But hadn’t I thought about that on the ride over? About how much easier my life would be if I didn’t have to deal with Chase every day?
Jeff shakes his head and walks to the driver’s side. “I don’t get you,” he says over the roof of his car. “Manson is bad news. It’s fucking disgusting to have you and him in the same school let alone the same classes. Besides—” he points to the front door of the house “—look at the trash he hangs out with. That doesn’t belong at Darling. You’re the only one who can get him expelled.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re her sister.” His features harden. “Rach wouldn’t want her little sister going to the same school as her killer.”
Hearing him use her nickname hurts my heart. “Rachel is gone,” I say shakily.
Anger flashes in his eyes. “If you won’t do it for your own sake, what about me?”
“I...”
“You think it’s easy for me to see him every day? He took away the most important person in my life. Rachel was it for me.”
His passionate declaration doesn’t fully sit with me. Jeff and Rachel were sixteen when they were going out—that feels a bit too young for Jeff to know that they were it. And even if they were each other’s soul mates, I don’t know how to explain to Jeff that getting Chase kicked out of Darling feels all kinds of wrong. If it happens, I’m not going to complain, I guess, but I’m not actively going to campaign for it.
“Well?” Jeff prompts.
“It doesn’t feel right,” I say.
He snorts. “Fine. Maybe you need to think about it some more.” He opens his car door and gets in and, before I can respond, he speeds off, leaving me choking in his exhaust.
“Jeff! Jeff!”
I sprint after him. There’s a stop sign ahead. I’ll catch him there. I run faster, but Jeff doesn’t even stop. He guns the car around the corner and by the time I reach the intersection, his taillights are a half mile away.
“You asshole!” I scream after him.
I can’t believe he left me here. I don’t even have a phone!
I jab my fingers in my hair, trying not to panic. What am I supposed to do now? Is he going to come back for me? I heave a shaky sigh and sink down into a crouch.
There’s something wrong with me. Clearly. Jeff is more torn up being around Chase than I am. Rachel’s my sister. Jeff dated her for less than a year. But he can’t stand to be around Chase. Me, I’m sticking up for him, just like Jeff accused.
And the thing is, I feel guilty that I don’t defend him more.
I don’t know what’s going on with me anymore. I’m so confused. About everything. I have no direction. No career goals. No passion. No ride home.
I’m sitting on the sidewalk in another town where I don’t know anyone but the guy who killed my sister. And worse, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
No one does. Scarlett’s mad at me. Jeff’s mad at me. My parents hate me.
I push to my feet. Maybe if I was more... What? More obedient? More robot-like?
Fuck that. I want to have a life. I want to have fun. All these people are choking the life out of me, telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. That includes Chase. I’m done with him, too. He said he doesn’t want or need my support. Then I’m not giving it to him. He doesn’t deserve it.
“He leave you here?” a deep voice asks from behind me.
I turn around to see a stranger. I squint. Was this someone from Kavill’s house?
“How did you know?”
The boy grins. “I saw the whole thing from my porch. Mad about Kav’s party? He’s kind of a straightedge, but you can come over to my place. I don’t have a hot tub like Kav, but I’ve got some other fun party favors.”
“You sound like a villain from a Stephen King novel,” I tell him bluntly.
Surprisingly, the boy throws his head back and laughs. “Got a little tongue on you, do you?” he says before sticking out his hand. “I’m Jay Tanner. I go to school with Kav.” He pulls out his phone. “Look, I’ve got his number right here. Call him and check it out.”
Jay doesn’t know that I’m totally abandoned. He thinks I know the kids inside of Greg Kavill’s house and that we left because the party was too tame. I’m too embarrassed to admit I don’t know Kav at all, so I say, “Nah, it’s fine.”
“Then come over. You’ll have fun,” he says. “I promise.”
I find myself following him across the street and down the block. He didn’t lie. His house is only a few addresses away from Kav’s. I can hear the music as we walk up the sidewalk. There are plenty of lights on inside the house and from what I can see, there are lots of kids, as well. My spirits lift.
“I’m Beth,” I tell him.
“Nice to meet you, Beth. What school do you go to?”
“Lex,” I lie. If I say Darling, he’ll assume things.
“I know Harvey Bassett. You have any classes with him?”
We climb the three steps of the front porch. He holds the door for me.
“Lex is a big school,” I answer, because I have no clue who Bassett is.
“Yeah, that’s true. How do you know Kav?”
“Friend of a friend.”
Inside, the place is smaller than it appears outside. It might be the music. It’s so loud it feels like a physical assault, but at least I don’t have to answer any more uncomfortable questions.
Jay makes a drinking motion with his han
d. I nod. He holds up one finger and disappears deeper into the house. No one stares at me. No one even really notices that I’m here. They’re dancing or making out on the sofa or playing a video game. I relax and wait for Jay to come back.
He reappears with two red cups. I accept mine and take a cautious sip. A sweet rather than bitter taste hits my tongue.
“You like?” he shouts in my ear.
I shoot him a thumbs-up. If there’s alcohol in here, I can’t taste it. I take a big swallow. And then another. And then another until it’s completely gone.
“I’ll get you a refill,” he yells.
I nod gratefully but have to stop as soon as his back is turned. The nodding made me dizzy. My legs feel weak. I hold an arm out to steady myself. What I really need is to sit down, I decide.
I find a set of stairs and plop down on the first one, ignoring the couple halfway up that are practically humping each other.
Jay comes back with two more glasses and a big grin. I’m going to make this one last, I think. But it’s so good.
So good.
I guess I’ll just have one more.
Or maybe two. Yeah. I’ll stop at two.
13
I wake up to the sound of a jackhammer. It’s the loudest, most annoying noise I’ve ever heard. It’s so loud it actually makes me sick—my stomach turns over a few times, nausea creeping like sickly strands of ivy up my throat.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that the deafening pounding is actually in my head and not coming from outside at all. And I feel sick because I’m drunk.
Groaning softly, I try to get my bearings. When I do, my stomach churns even harder.
Jay is lying beside me.
I fight through my queasiness and try to focus. The room is dark, but there are no curtains on the window and moonlight is streaming in. We’re on a double bed, with about three feet of space between us. He’s snoring softly. We’re both fully clothed.
I almost keel over with relief. I’m still dressed. Oh, thank God. I quickly look around the small bedroom and find no signs that at one point I may have undressed. The bedspread is still on the bed, only slightly rumpled from me and Jay lying on it. There are no empty condom wrappers or pieces of underwear scattered on the floor.
