by Cassie James
“I don’t know,” I say, and my voice is weak in my ears. “I’d just rather stay at home and read.”
She rises from the stool in one fluid movement, and I find myself staring at her Malano Blahnik pumps rather than into the fiery pools of her eyes. “No daughter of mine is sitting at home reading,” she says reading like it’s a filthy word instead of a perfectly respectable activity, and I jerk back. “The Halloween party at the Altons is the social event of the season for you kids. Everyone will take note if you’re not there.”
I want to yell and challenge her. Who gives a shit if I’m at some house party where high schoolers are drinking until they’re sick and taking designer drugs just because no one’s parents actually care enough to put their goddamn foot down? I can’t say any of that.
Instead, I tell her, “I just don’t want to go this year, Mom. It’s not that big a deal.”
Her eyes flash, my words still unacceptable. “Of course you’re going, Piper. Jude is one of your best friends.”
“But he’s not!” The words are out before I can stop them, and her nostrils flare as I finally push myself to my feet. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? “Jude Alton is terrible. I’d rather spend a thousand Saturdays wasting away in solitary confinement than spend time with him voluntarily!”
“Piper Leigh Hawthorne.” The warning is very, very clear in her tone. In all of our time together, never once has she full-named me.
I swallow down my response as she stomps toward the closet and rips the garment bag from the hook. She tosses it at me, and I barely catch it in my scrabbling hands. “You’ll meet me downstairs in forty-five minutes. Dressed and one hundred percent ready to go. Understood?”
I nod along numbly as I hook my fingers around the zipper. It only takes me a few seconds to realize what’s in the garment bag Mom tossed at me. “But this is Piper’s costume from last year.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath, and I look to see her standing with her hand on the doorknob, shoulders and neck tense as she breathes. “It’s your costume from last year, and you’ll wear it.” It’s only now that I see a problem that’s been here all along. Jackie Hawthorne doesn’t want to replace her daughter—she only wants to go back in time. To relive the same moments, not to create new ones.
My voice is impossibly small when I answer her. “No,” I whisper, but she doesn’t bother acknowledging me. Instead, I can hear her heels clicking down the hall as my head spins. I can’t believe she’s putting me in a dead girl’s costume.
My fingers grapple over the hem of the white bodycon dress after I slide into the Escalade next to Mom. It’s impossibly tight, hugging every curve of my body, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. I’m grossly uncomfortable, fighting the urge to cover my breasts, which I’m almost positive are showing right through the stretchy material of the strapless dress.
The idea of not wearing a bra was absolutely mortifying, but Mom turned me around and sent me right back upstair to take off the strapless bra I’d initially come down in. Thank god Dad was nowhere to be found. I wasn’t sure who’d be more infuriated and embarrassed by her comments about the wires of the bra being disgustingly obvious through the material of my dress. When I appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a bralette showing, she’d almost lost her mind as she demanded that I not be wearing any form of bra the next time I appear at the bottom of the steps. What kind of mother doesn’t want their daughter to wear a bra?
“Stop fidgeting, Piper. You’ll stretch the hemline, and no one likes a sloppy angel.”
No one likes a slutty angel, either. I counter in my head, but I bite my lip hard to keep from sassing her. I’d barely made it out of the house in the barely there thong I convinced her was absolutely necessary. I wasn’t about to press my luck and have her decide that she didn’t agree with me after all.
My hands fall still in my lap, and I stare at the nude Louboutin pumps I forced reluctantly on my feet when I dressed. I roll my eyes, positive that the curtain of my gently curled hair would hide the motion from Mom. At least I’d gotten one thing right with the outfit the first time around.
“Piper, can you at least pretend to be excited?” Mom asks after several uncomfortable minutes of oppressive silence.
“Do I really have to do this?”
I can hear her teeth grind as she clenches her jaw. I don’t bother looking up, knowing the disappointment and irritation I would see in her eyes if I did. “I don’t understand the problem. This is your favorite party of the entire year!”
“No, this was her favorite party!”
She gasps, and I feel bad for all of half a second. “Piper,” she breathes the name out slowly, and I can hear the hurt there.
But the floodgates are open, and I can’t stop the words from spilling out. “I get it, Piper loved this party. Piper was best friends with Jude Alton. She wouldn’t have missed this party for anything. But when will you understand that I’m not really her! You can’t expect me—”
“Stop,” she croaks out with a wave of emotion.
“Jackie, I’m sorry,” I try, using her name because I can’t bear to call her Mom right now. Not when we’re at this dangerous impasse. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Just. Stop!” she screeches, and I fall silent.
Jackie hunches over the wheel, fingers grasping it so hard that her knuckles look painfully white. Guilt hits me right in the chest, but I swallow down any words I think to say. I want to comfort her, I’m programmed to do so, but I’m not so sure it’s my place right this moment.
“You’re going to the party,” she finally says, her voice fully and commanding. There’s only a slight shake hiding just beneath the surface, and I can only tell it’s there because I’m listening for the heartbreak I know I’ve caused. “You’re going to have a good time. You’re going to play nice with Jude Alton. And you’re not going to argue with me ever again. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper as I sink down in my seat. Because how can I really tell her no?
Jackie Hawthorne was supposed to be my purpose—and I’m failing her spectacularly.
Mom doesn’t say a word as she maneuvers the Escalade through what could be a luxury car lot sprinkled over the Alton’s front yard and around their long, circular drive. Her face is tight when I turn to tell her goodbye, so the word stalls on my lips. I quickly and quietly gather my belongings, reaching up to straighten the stupid goddamn halo headband when I duck out of the car. As much as it hurts me, I don’t turn back to wave as I hear her car leaving.
I pick my way carefully toward the front of the house, but my body is shaking. The music is loud, practically blaring through the door, and if it weren’t such an unseasonably chilly night, I might consider just hanging out right here until I can reasonably call a car to take me home. It’s the worry that people are going to walk by and see my nipples poking through my sheer dress that sends me into the lion’s den.
The crowd packs in around me the second I step foot inside. My only hope is that with the size of this crowd, Jude won’t see me here.
It doesn’t matter how crowded it is, though, I see the eyes turning to stare and whisper as I pass through. I know what they’re whispering about. It’s this damn costume. I’m sure it looks familiar and I’m sure they all know why. My agitation getting the best of me, I yank the halo headband off my head and let it fall discarded to the ground. I can’t do this.
Spotting the sliding glass doors at the back of the house, I push my way desperately towards them. Nipples and modesty be damned, I can’t be in this room another fucking second. Besides, it’s dark beyond the lights bleeding out from the living room, and I don’t see anyone congregating in the chilly night air. I need to find somewhere to be alone, and I need to do it before I run into Jude.
Show up if you dare. Show up if you dare. Show up if you dare.
The words of his text flash on repeat in my mind, and I shudder to think of what he might decide to do if he finds ou
t that I did dare show up. It’s not Jude I end up running across, though, it’s Tori.
“Could you have any less tact?” she spits at me as she forces her way through the crowd so she can stand in my path. I try to ignore her, glancing around with discomfort as I notice how many people are watching our exchange.
God, I wish Macie was here, she’s so good at standing up to her step-sister. I tried texting her when Jackie made it clear she expected me to come to this party, but Macie already had plans. I tried convincing her to bring her date to Jude’s party, but that was a definite no.
Sorry, girl. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Just call an Uber after like twenty minutes and sneak home. Good luck.
I try to step past a couple that’s making out like their very lives depend on it, but Tori shuffles to stay in front of me. “It’s one thing to show up here when we don’t fucking want you, but to wear Piper’s outfit from last year?”
I close my eyes for a second before I try again to push forward, shoving past more tangled couples as I go. I can’t stop moving. If I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from taking a swing at Tori. I’m so tired of her shit. All I want is for her to leave me alone.
“You’re never going to replace her, 2.0!” she taunts from behind me as my hand finally finds the handle of the sliding glass door.
I let my head fall forward against the glass, taking a moment to steady my breathing and cool my throbbing head. I am so goddamn tired of having this argument. Condensation puffs on the glass in front of my face, and I count backwards from ten before turning to face Tori. I smile with the most grace I can muster, and she jerks back, clearly not expecting that.
“Trust me, Victoria, the very last thing I plan to do is replace Piper Hawthorne. I may have her face, and I may have her body, but I’m my very own person. You should really be more thankful for that, because if I’d been your Piper, I would have ditched your miserable fucking ass a long time ago.”
I don’t raise my voice. My smile never falters. And once I’m done speaking, I calmly open the door and slip into the peace of the quiet backyard.
21
Tyler
I’m not sure what it is that draws me to the pool. Maybe I’ve finally had my fill of parties at Jude Alton’s house—there’s only so much alcohol and thrumming music that a person can handle. I slump back in the lounger, crossing my arms over my chest, and thank whatever it is that’s looking out for me that Jude’s parents insisted the back lawn was off limits this time around.
I focus on the sound of the water filtering through the pool and over the waterfall Jude’s mom just had to have. I haven’t touched a pool since April, but something keeps drawing me near to them. Maybe I’m just a masochist.
I take a shuddering breath and push my body into a sitting position on the lounger. My legs spread to plant my feet on either side of the chair, and my elbows come to my knees, the sharp angles digging into one another uncomfortably. I dig my palms into my eyes, rubbing hard enough to leave spots of white in their wake.
It’s not enough, though. It never is.
“C’mon, Piper.”
“Mmm, no,” she says before she flops back on the pool float she’s been laying on for the past twenty minutes. The pool’s not lit, but there’s just enough light shining off of the house for me to see the loopy, dazed smile curling over her lips. “The world’s spinning, Ty.”
My legs dangle over the edge of the pool, feet kicking back and forth in the heated water. It would be so easy to just hop in the pool, drag her floating ass to the edge, and throw her over the side. But she’d make a fucking racket, and I would never, ever hear the end of it. Piper Hawthorne does not do what Piper Hawthorne does not want to do.
“Yeah, Piper, because you’re super drunk. Let’s get dressed and go home.”
“We’re having fun. Stop being a buzzkill. How many after-prom parties are we ever going to have, Ty?”
This is our third. I want to tell her that I’m sure whatever Jude cooks up next year will put Zeke Jamison’s party to shame. Jude’s good for a rager, and it really chaps his ass that he doesn’t get the honor of throwing the after-prom party for another year. Tradition says a senior throws it, and Jude’s good at tradition—most of the time.
I keep my thoughts to myself, not needing to give her another reason to explode into a fit of giggles and fall into the water again. She might be my girlfriend, but there’s no denying the bond of friendship between her and Jude. There’s just something about running around in diapers with someone that really solidifies those relationships.
Alton’s a jackass, one of my best friends for sure, but still a complete and utter asshole. And Piper adores him. Thinks his antics are hysterical. So when Tori whispered to her that he was trying to hook up with Jamison’s girlfriend, she toasted in the direction that her hazy, drunk brain thought he might be in, and shot a double of some kind of fruity liquor.
That was an hour ago, and she hasn’t slowed down. Water splashes over me, forcing me to glance back in Piper’s direction. She’s hanging over the side of her float, giggling as she splashes water at Tori. The other girl squeals dramatically before treading toward the other end of the pool, red cup poised delicately in her hand as she goes.
I lock eyes with Piper, and she’s grinning at me as she lifts her own cup from the holder on the side of the float she’s commandeered on this trip into the pool. She struggles to keep the cup straight in clumsy hands, and I roll my eyes as at least half of the drink ends up sloshing down her front and running into the water. My arms bunch and tense, and I’m getting ready to slide into the pool when she fixes me with a hard stare over the side of the drink she’s chugging.
She moves to put her cup back, but she misses the mark entirely and frowns as the cup turns sideways in the water. She shrugs and slumps back on the float before turning her attention back to me. “You’re doing it again.” She says it like it’s obvious. I’m not sure what “it” is, but she seems more than happy to point it out to me.
“Doing what?” I can’t keep the edge from my tone, and her face darkens for a half a second before the loopy grin is back.
That’s it, I decide, pushing off from the side of the pool. She’s half on her way to blackout, and I’m going to have to sneak her back into her house as is. If she gets any drunker, there’s no way I’ll get her in short of carrying her; and while I know Jackie probably wouldn’t give a shit, I don’t think Roman would be so lax about it.
“Brooding,” she says in a sing-song voice. “No one likes a sad-sack, Tyler.”
“Piper,” I groan as I move through the water toward her.
She rewards me with a drunken attempt to propel the float away from me. Her arms are weak and clumsy with liquor, though, and I catch the side of the float within seconds. She glowers down at me playfully before shimmying down the float with a wicked look in her eye. I have half a second to brace myself before she launches herself off the thing and latches her arms around my neck.
Piper laughs, and her alcohol-laced breath hits me square in the face before she slants her lips over mine. I can taste the cherry of the drink on her tongue, and I’m lost in the feeling of her fingers tangling in my hair for a long moment. When she pulls away, her eyes are closed, and she’s smiling lazily in my general direction.
“Hey, seriously,” I say as I catch her chin in my fingers. She blinks, bleary-eyed and way more adorable than she has a right to be when I’m trying to convince her to do something she doesn’t want to. I run my finger over her lips as I continue. “Let’s get home and get you sobered up.”
Her eyes jerk open, fire blazing in the gray-blue depths as she glowers up at me. Piper pulls herself away from me, nails digging through my hair and over my shoulders as she pushes back. “I already told you no, Tyler.”
I groan and run a hand down the front of my face. Seriously, she’s going to be the death of me.
“Piper, you’re way too fucking drunk. I just
want to get you in bed and let you sleep it off.”
“No,” she snaps back, and I’m sure if we were on solid ground her feet would be planted firmly apart and her hands would be on her hips. “You just want to control me. No one controls me, Tyler. No one.”
“Fine,” I spit back, turning back toward the side of the pool and hefting myself over the edge easily. Water drips and pools at my feet as I turn to see her staring at me with a mixture of petulance and rebellion in her gaze. She is so goddamn irritating.
“What do you mean, fine?”
“If you want to stay and drink, fine,” I say as I move toward the chair where my t-shirt, keys, and phone are sitting. I look over my shoulder one last time, and Piper glowers at me in return. “Tori’s still here—I’m sure she won’t mind giving you a ride in the morning. Feel free to call me tomorrow when you’re actually sober.”
She huffs but doesn’t say anything. As I walk toward the gate, I hear the faint sounds of her laughter echoing around the pool. Tori’s shrill, shrieking laughter joins a second later, and I decide to say fuck it. If Piper wants to be a drunk, stubborn asshole, so be it.
The door to the house slides open, the sound pulling me from my memories. I turn, craning to see who dares to defy Jude’s order to “Stay the fuck out of the backyard.” The light of the house halos the figure as heels click against the stone patio. It’s a goddamn angel.
Piper’s dress hugs all of her curves exactly the way I remember, and I’m stumbling to my feet before I can really think through what I’m doing. She must not see me, because she takes several steps across the patio until she’s by the poolside. My heart leaps with panic as she crouches close, reaching out to touch the water.