by Haley Jenner
“That sucks.”
“Mm,” I agree. “You’re different than any fifteen-year-old girl I’ve met before.”
Her lips purse as she forces herself to look at me. “How so?”
“The way you talk. I don’t know. . . your mannerisms? Most teenage girls I know are giggling over boys and wearing too much makeup.”
The fair touch of her cheeks shade to pink. “My mom made me go to charm school,” she admits in embarrassment. “While other kids my age have sleepovers and sneak into movie theaters and smoke cigarettes, I’ve been reading classic literature. Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, The Great Gatsby.”
I grimace. “Sounds enlightening . . . and painful?”
She laughs, the sound easy and free, a stark contradiction to the Henley I’ve caught glimpses of so far. “I guess it is. Half the time, I need a tutor with me so I can understand it.”
She laughs again, and I let myself enjoy the sound. She tips her head back to let it out into the sky, letting it mingle with the wind and birds.
I like this version of her. The one brave enough to let go a little, to laugh into the wind, and talk to the stranger who stole her rock. It doesn’t take a genius to know this is unusual for her.
“Will you be going to Ivy Prep?”
I nod.
Sliding down the rock, she dusts the back of her pressed shorts, now stained with green moss. “I guess I’ll see you around school then.”
“No more arguments about the rock then?” I tease.
She turns, walking backward, ignoring the way the twigs snap sharply under her toes. “You’re easy to read, Brooks Riley,” she ponders out loud. “It doesn’t matter how much I argue because you’ve already made your mind up. I don’t care to find a new spot, so I’ll have to learn a new normal, one with you on the outskirts.”
“You’ll learn to love me.” I wink, attempting to lighten the heaviness in her tone.
She smiles a sad smile. “I don’t love anything that can cause me pain. Especially people. But I’ll learn to tolerate you.”
I watch her leave, shock holding me in place, unsure what else to say.
3
HENLEY
“Hey.”
I arch away from the breath touching my ear. “Personal space.” I stare at Brooks in irritation.
“Sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
He looks like the typical misfit of Ivy Prep. His white dress shirt is half untucked and his gray pants hang lower on his hips than regulations allow. The maroon sleeves of his jacket are even pushed up his arms, and two thick leather straps are wrapped around his right wrist.
“You’re not wearing your tie.”
He glances down at his shirt as though that’s new to him. “I don’t know how to tie one. My last school didn’t have a lame-ass uniform.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes and lift my hand. “Where is it?”
Patting both his pockets, he pulls it from his left one.
“Give it here and hold these.”
He takes my books without argument, standing still as I dress his toddler ass.
“Do you put highlights in your hair?” I ask, needing to fill the silence with conversation while our bodies are a little too close for comfort. His eyes fixate on my face in intrigue.
He shakes his head. “No. Why?”
The lightened locks are styled longer on top of his head fall over his forehead, and I have to refrain from brushing them from his eyes.
“Stuffed under that stupid ball cap you wear, it looks dark,” I tell him, tying a perfect Windsor knot at his neck. “But it’s got blond through it.”
I pat the tie into place, smiling at my handiwork.
“All natural, Squirrel,” he tells me, loosening the tie almost immediately.
Frowning as he hands me back my books, I lift my head in slow motion. “Did you just nickname me after a rodent?”
“A cute rodent.”
I shake my head, forcing my feet forward once again.
“How’s your first day?” I ask, walking to remove the insult from my skin.
A rodent. He may as well have nicknamed me Rat.
“Meh.”
“A few of the girls in my earlier class were talking about you,” I offer to remove the melancholy from his voice.
“Jealous?” He smirks.
I frown.
“Too far?”
I lift my thumb and forefinger, separating them an inch. “Just a lot.”
He laughs easily. “I told my gran I met you. She invited you over for dinner.”
My feet halt their movement once again. “What? Why?”
“Hell if I know,” he says defensively. “She got excited that I’d met my first friend here.”
“I’d hardly call us friends,” I combat.
“Semantics,” he disputes. “Tonight. Seven o’clock. Don’t disappoint my poor sick gran.” He pouts. “I’ll see you then. Gotta run.”
I stand in the hallway as the bell rings, and all the other students move on to their classes. I’m left alone with my shock, trying like hell to understand what just happened.
My feet turn in the direction he jogged away, but I’m greeted with emptiness. Turning back, I lift my leaden feet, dropping them in the direction of my next class.
Sitting in my designated seat, I pray the teacher doesn’t hear the way my cell buzzes in my pocket.
Unknown: Gran wants to know if you have any allergies.
I frown.
Henley: how did you get my #?
Brooks: Told the lady in the office you were my ride home. She knows Gran, she felt sorry for me.
Henley: you just signed her termination slip. Just an FYI. My only allergy is you.
Brooks: Cute. Also, I do need that ride home.
“Something more interesting on your phone than what I’m teaching, Miss Wright?”
My cheeks burn automatically. “Uh. No. Sorry.”
“I thought so. Phone away before I’m forced to confiscate it.”
She would never. I’m too good of a student, but the act is for the rest of the class. An example she needs to set.
Shoving my cell into the bottom of my bag, I ignore my annoying neighbor, irritated by the fact he’s declared us friends.
I slide my tray onto the table, hitting it against Addy’s. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“You look extra miserable today. Cute, but super off. What’s up?”
Addy is my one and only friend in this school. More, this entire town. Having psycho parents tends to keep others away, so people keep their distance. It used to upset me, but I can’t blame them. I don’t even want to be around them, and they’re my own flesh and blood.
Ripping along the skin of my banana, I growl. “Nothing. That weird guy I met at my rock started here today. He thinks we’re friends.”
“You mean the super cute guy walking toward our table with the Hollywood hair and dreamy eyes?”
Chewing my fruit, I turn.
Sure enough, Brooks moves toward us, ignoring the flirty eyes the rest of our cohort are throwing his way.
“Hey.” He sets his tray down beside mine. “I’m Brooks.” He introduces himself to Addy as thought sitting with us is the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m Addison. Addy,” she corrects herself.
I stare at her with wide eyes, attempting to telepathically communicate with her to stop.
“Hey, Squirrel,” Brooks prompts when I don’t speak.
“I will force this banana up your nose if you call me that again.”
“Squirrel?” Addy all but coos. “That’s so sweet.”
“Squirrels are rodents, Addy. It’s not sweet. It’s offensive.”
“You are all tiny like a squirrel.” She ignores me. “And you’re always hiding away in the forest.”
“You never texted me back. Where will your driver pick us up from?”
I close my eyes. “I don’t have a driver.”
&
nbsp; “Who picks you up?”
I fight against the sting caused by his simple question. “It’s Monday, so Mom.”
“You didn’t mention your parents were separated?”
“I wish,” I mumble, refusing to engage further.
“Henley’s parents are obsessed with her. They hate one another but basically go into war for her affections. The school had to force scheduled pick-up days to stop them from arguing at the gates. They refuse to get divorced in case one gets awarded more time with her than the other by the courts.”
Girl code, broken.
I glare at my supposed friend.
“What?” she asks innocently. “It’s not a secret, Henny. The entire school saw it happen.”
My esophagus closes over, and I struggle to swallow the banana in my throat. The texture now like glue. Throwing the remainder of the fruit onto my tray, I push it away.
“Sweet, I get to meet your mom.”
I turn to Brooks, but he’s oblivious to my state, his focus set solely on his burger. I watch as he all but dislocates his jaw to take an inhuman bite.
A sense of relief settles within me, and I pull my lunch tray back toward me. He didn’t pry. He didn’t look at me in pity. He didn’t work to see inside my soul. He took Addy’s gossip and let it fall away, refusing to offer it purpose.
“I can’t believe you're eating a banana when they have burgers,” he says when he finally meets my eyes.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”
He shoves me playfully, smiling before ripping at his lunch again.
BROOKS
AGE 16
“Stop,” she screeches, kicking her legs in an attempt to dislodge me. “Seriously, Brooks.” She tries for seriousness. “You’re being juvenile.”
My eyes widen as I dig my fingers in harder, her face going bright red as she struggles to breathe.
“Admit it.”
“No!” she yells through her squeals.
“Admit it, and I’ll stop.”
“No.”
I slide down the bed, grabbing her feet.
“No. Please, no. Brooks!”
I let my fingers dance across the soles of her feet lightly as she squirms.
“Please. Please. Please,” she chants. “Not my feet.”
I tickle her harder. “You know what you need to do.”
“All right.” She laughs against her better judgment. “All right.”
I stop, keeping her feet hostage.
“I stole your phone to text Evelyn to cancel your date, then deleted said text.”
I release her feet. “Why?”
She scurries upward, tucking her feet underneath her ass to protect them from further attack. “Because she’s a bitch, Brooks. You cannot be interested in her?”
Not in the slightest, but watching Henley squirm has always been my favorite pastime. “Her tits, sure.”
She throws a cushion at my head. “Gross. She actually pushed me in the hallway today and threatened that I’d be scrubbed off your shoe when you two got serious.”
In the past twelve months, I’ve managed to worm my way into Henley’s circle. Not that you can call it much of a circle with only two of us in it. Addy sits on the outskirts, much to her disgust. It was obvious Henley needed a person. She was lost and noticeably alone. It worked perfectly for me considering I too was in need of a person. I was new in town, and she fascinated me.
Henley’s eyes roll dramatically. “Don’t be ridiculous. The bitch is crazy. A rich girl with an attitude. I wanted to knock her down a peg. Or twelve.”
“Fair enough. Next time, though, just tell me. You know there’s no need to swipe my phone. I would’ve sent the text myself.”
“I know,” she admits just as a door upstairs slams shut.
We wait quietly for the screaming to start. The hideous roars and screeching as her parents communicate the only way they know how.
“It’s getting worse.”
I glance at the ceiling of her bedroom, knowing they’re standing directly above us, hurling insults at one another for their daughter to hear.
“She hit him the other night,” she confides.
“They let you see that?” I can’t even attempt to hide my disgust.
Over the past year, I’ve been privy to the inner workings of Henley’s parents. They don’t even care to hide their vile distaste for one another when I’m around anymore. Gone is the act. Not that there was a solid one to begin with.
They openly have affairs. Being seen with other men and women in public without a care of what it does to their daughter.
They’re a joke, and the entire town knows it.
They claim they love Henley. Too much apparently. But Henley’s right; she’s a trophy. One they both are dead set on holding at the end.
A shadow of sadness curtains Henley’s eyes, hiding away the rich chocolate spark of life. I hate this look. The despair that wraps itself around her day in and day out is getting worse. Every time I see her, it takes more and more work to make her smile.
“I can’t wait to escape,” she whispers, afraid they’ll hear her through their shrieks. “To run away and run through the world barefoot and free.”
“Where will you go?” I encourage her to keep talking. To distract her from the ugly of upstairs.
“Anywhere,” she dreams. “Everywhere.”
“Always so full of wanderlust.”
She smiles then. A great big grin that pushes a dimple into each of her cheeks. One that showcases all her teeth and the power in her dreams.
“You’re no different.” She pushes my shoulder, and I pretend to fall backward on her bed.
“True. Will you be happy, though?” I ask her seriously. “You come from an endless supply of money. Do you think living dollar-to-dollar while tending bar will be enough for you?”
Pulling a pillow to her chest, she squeezes it to her body. “Money is a façade, Brooks. It’s a security blanket that suffocates happiness. I’d go without every day to have parents who loved me the way they were supposed to and who loved one another.”
I watch her candidly. I hate that I don’t know how she truly feels. I'd need to know to have any chance at healing it. But I’m grateful in the same breath because my life is the complete opposite of Henley’s.
“I’d give everything up to live in a house like yours, Brooks. I won’t ever settle for anything else. This toxicity kills everything inside you.” She gestures above, where her parents are now threatening to run away with Henley like she’s an overpriced suitcase and not a real fucking person.
“Come here,” I say.
She comes to me easily, and I wrap her in a tight hug.
“We’ll travel the world together,” I tell her. “I’ll take photos, and you can pour beers until your hands ache. Then we'll get up and leave, moving onto the next place that calls our name.”
“You promise?” she mumbles into my chest.
“I’ll never make you a promise, Henley. You might be silly enough to believe it, and if I fail to deliver, I’ll only shatter your heart. You’ve had enough heartache already.”
Pulling back from our embrace, she stares up at me.
“We don’t promise. We make a pact.” I hold my hand upright, and she doesn't hesitate to place hers against it. Curling my fingers through hers, she does the same until we’re holding hands. “An agreement signed in friendship that we’re both too scared to break.”
She blinks. “That’s the same thing.”
I shake my head. “A promise is one-sided. An agreement is not. We’re now each held accountable.”
The right side of her lips tick up in a small smirk aimed directly at me.
“Come on,” I sigh, breaking the moment. “They’re gonna be at it for hours. Let’s go skip stones at our rock.”
“It's my rock,” she argues.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Squirrel, and I do not see said rock in yours.”
She na
rrows her eyes. “How are we friends?”
“I wore you down with my wit and charm.”
I’m not lying. She was one tough nut to crack. But she needed a friend at the same time I did. It was a match made in perfect timing.
“I’ve decided I don’t like you.”
“Don’t let your nose grow, Pinocchio. You love me.”
She no longer argues that reality. She told me once she could never love anyone, that it was too painful. She’d never say it, but I’m the only person Henley Wright loves, and I plan to make sure she does it her whole life.
I slide out of her bedroom window, then turn to watch her do the same.
“Race you!” she yells as she takes off, her long legs moving like a gazelle.
I count to ten before giving chase. Without seeing her face, I know her eyes are closed, her hair wrapping around her face as she creates her own wind. She’s in her element, and she’s at peace, which is why I slow my footing. I’d never let myself overtake her. This is her in her happy place—wild and free. My only charge in life is to nurture that, not hinder it.
Once she's settled on the rock, her chest heaves with her stuttered breaths. “Why do you let me win?”
“I don’t.”
She elbows me. “Now, who’s Pinocchio?”
Lying down with the smoothed rock at my back, I sigh. I can almost feel our carved-out names pressed against my skin. “How can I watch your back if I’m in front?”
She drops back softly, letting her head rest on my chest. “You don’t need to protect me against the world, Brooks.”
“Your parents suck at the job, so it can’t hurt to have someone looking out for you, Henley.”
She lets my words sink in, her body relaxing into mine in appreciation.
“I can’t help but think this all ends badly,” she whispers. “Mom and Dad. How can it not?”
I wish I could fix it for her. I wish I could force her parents to see what their animosity is doing to her. I wish I could make my best friend happy.
“Whatever damage they inflict, we’ll fix it. Together.”
HENLEY
Age 16
