My cell vibrates, and if it’s Glory, I swear I’ll take an ax to my phone. I switch gears quick when I spot Nazareth’s name. The kid’s not the type to text. V’s in bad pain. Migraine from hell, and she can barely move. My parents laced their stash and it’s too strong. I’m scared of what she’ll be taking in if she smokes it. Can you help?
A war takes place in my brain. I need to stay straight and narrow in order to keep my land, but I have to help my friend. Me: Might take me a few hours.
Nazareth: Leo is on the way. He doesn’t want you to do it alone. I’ll bring V by later.
I sigh heavily, and my cell becomes a hundred-pound weight in my hands. Last time I did this to help V, I ended up in handcuffs. I was stupid, though. Didn’t watch my back. Probably why Leo is going along for the ride. Nazareth’s parents grow their own pot and if he’s asking for me to buy, it means that any supply they have isn’t stuff he’s comfortable with V smoking.
Thanks or unthanks to Mom, I know people who deal and those people won’t sell to strangers, only to people they know, which means I’m on the hook for the buy. I push buttons and send the text that’s going to help V and hopefully not damn me.
SCARLETT
Help, my life has been hijacked! It’s what I’d like to send in an emergency text, but the problem is that anyone I’d send the SOS to is involved in ruining my life. I’m in a fog in my mother’s bathroom as she fusses over my hair and makeup. She’s been talking nonstop since I arrived home from school. Meanwhile, I’m unable to speak, and no one seems to notice.
“You should be proud of your father.” Mom uses the hot iron on a lock of my hair then uses her fingers to draw out the curl.
I try to avoid looking at her palm. Since reading Glory’s books, I can’t help but see things I don’t want to know. Like how almost all the lines on Mom’s hand are weak, broken and fragmented. None of which is a good sign.
“Your father didn’t say no automatically like I thought he would. He listened to what I had to say, spoke with Camila’s parents then Evangeline’s parents, and even spoke to Stewart’s parents. He’s been calm and thoughtful. He wants you to have a good time, and to be happy.”
Mom’s gushing, and I’m sick to my stomach. “Why were you two arguing this week?”
“Your first date,” Mom ignores me. “I can’t believe my baby is going on her first date.”
With a boy I didn’t choose, on a date I never said yes to and that was orchestrated by my father. This is what every girl dreams of.
Mom tilts her head as she takes in my expression. “What’s wrong? Are you scared? You don’t have to be. You’ll have plenty of friends with you to keep everything comfortable.”
My eyes burn, and I blink rapidly to keep the tears away. “I don’t want to go.”
“That’s absurd. Of course you want to go. It’s normal to be nervous.”
“It’s not nerves. I should have chosen who my first date is with.”
“You’re being ungrateful. Besides, you have to go. You’d embarrass the poor boy if you don’t. Is that what you’d want? To make him sad?”
No, it’s not. Nor do I want to disappoint Camila and Evangeline. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But it’s like I’m standing in the middle of a crowded cafeteria and I’m screaming and not a single person is listening. Why is no one asking me what I want? Why is no one concerned about me being sad?
A knock, and Dad stands in the doorway. He smiles at me like he loves me, and my throat swells as I turn away. God, I want to be loved. So badly that it’s causing me pain.
“Our living room is full of teenagers, and one very nervous boy waiting for you,” he says.
Mom beams at Dad. “She’s ready.”
No, I’m not, but Mom takes my hand and pulls me from the safety of my seat. As I pass Dad, he places an arm around me and kisses my temple.
“Scarlett,” he says in such a sad tone that my stomach drops. I look up at him, and meet his anguished eyes. “Can’t you see I’m trying? I love you, and I miss how we used to be.”
Is he changing? Am I the monster by keeping away forgiveness?
Dad lets go of me when I step into the hallway. I glance down into the foyer, and my heart shatters into a thousand pieces. Standing at the base of the stairs is a boy who looks up at me with a radiant smile and hope.
I descend, and a cloud of doom hovers over me as I share hugs from friends who have an expectation of me I’ll never be able to meet. Stewart and I exchange an awkward greeting. A side hug, and staged pictures, thanks to Mom.
The cloud becomes a thunderstorm when I walk out the front door. Jesse Lachlin exits his trailer and looks over at me. I should glance away, but I can’t. I need him to understand. This isn’t me. This isn’t my choice.
He turns away as if I’ve slapped him, and my stomach sinks as if I had. Regret becomes a weight on my chest, and I suddenly wish that I hadn’t been so stupid. I wish I had snuck out night after night to meet with Jesse. Even though he promised to be watching out for me at midnight for the rest of my life, I know I just lost my chance.
* * *
I claw at the neckline of my top. I can’t breathe. I haven’t been able to breathe all evening, but there was nothing I could do other than fake a front. But I’m home now, I’m behind the closed door of my bedroom, and I yank the blouse over my head and kick out of my skirt.
“Scarlett,” Mom says. Another knock on my door, and I wipe at the moisture filling my eyes. “I was hoping we could talk. I’ve dreamed of this moment your whole life. I’ll make cookies and tea. I want to hear every detail. He seemed like such a wonderful boy.”
But I don’t want to talk about how this guy was super-nice, did everything textbook perfect, and when he looked at me as if I was making his night, I felt awful because when I looked at him I felt nothing. I don’t want to talk about how my friends had this expectation that I would like this boy. That I would want to hold his hand, and that I would have taken advantage of the moment they all moved from one side of the movie lobby to another to give us time alone.
I don’t want to talk about how he went from talking nonstop to going silent, and I knew if I didn’t start talking, if I didn’t move an inch away, he would have leaned in and kissed me.
I don’t want to talk about how he was understanding. That he didn’t ignore what I did, but instead said he respected my boundaries and that he’d kiss me when I was ready. I don’t want to talk about how I hate myself because I don’t want to upset my friends and I don’t want to hurt him. I hate myself because I wish I could feel. I wish I were normal. I wish I wasn’t me.
Mom knocks on my door again. “Scarlett? Is everything okay?”
No. I open my closet and throw on a tank top and an old pair of jeans my dad told me to throw out. He didn’t like they were so worn and had rips, but I didn’t throw them away. An act of defiance I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now.
“Scarlett,” Mom says again.
I inhale, but that doesn’t help the strain in my voice. “I’m okay, Mom. I want to go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Silence. It stretches for so long that my skin shrinks too tight for my bones.
“I love you,” she finally says, and I cover my face with my hands because I don’t want to cry. I’m so sick and tired of crying. “Good night, baby.”
I drop my hands and catch sight of myself in the mirror. My hair is curled and pinned up into perfection. My makeup covers every flaw, and creates an image of a girl I don’t recognize. I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep being who everyone wants me to be or I’m going to die.
Headlights flash against the wall of my room, and Jesse pulls into his drive. It’s ten-thirty. I could wait until midnight, flash my light three times and pray Jesse comes to me, but he’s not a dog to be summoned and I can’t stomach what would happen inside me if he didn’t show.
Not caring if my parents come to check on me, I open the window and crawl out. I
make a point of not looking down as I stealthily maneuver along the branches. Two car doors slam shut, which means Jesse has company, but I don’t care. I need to see him. I need to figure out who I am.
JESSE
Standing outside my trailer, Leo checks the text on his phone. “Nazareth and V are down by the creek and have started a fire down there.” That’s on the other side of the farm, but closer to the road Nazareth uses to bring him and V home.
“He says she’s hurting bad, but she keeps saying she’s fine. He said she keeps holding her head and is close to doubled over. It sounds like this migraine is taking her down. I don’t know why she thinks she has to front with us.”
Probably for the same reason we all keep parts of ourselves private—even within our group that we trust. Self-protection can be a tough wall to break down, but it’s there for a reason. I should know.
“Do you ever wonder how sick she really is?” Leo says. “I mean, we know it’s bad, but if it’s worse than bad?”
“Yeah.” But then I think of how V says that the sickness is all Leo sees of her—that and the crazy side she has to make up for it.
Leo’s head jerks up, and I follow his line of sight. A shadow sprints across the road, and a combination of hope and dread knots my gut. It’s Scarlett, and I turn away from her and toward the direction of the creek.
If Leo and I move fast enough, maybe she’ll take the hint and leave. I don’t have it in me to contain my anger. Anger I don’t have a right to. Anger I don’t understand. Scarlett doesn’t trust me to be friends, real friends, but she trusts that idiot from school to go on a date. The word date tastes so bad in my mouth I want to spit. I walk faster, and Leo scrambles to keep up.
“Let me get this straight.” It takes everything I have not to punch Leo’s wide smile off his face. “The girl you’ve been following around like a sad puppy is finally chasing after you and you won’t stop to chat? That feels rude, and I think we should all pause for a moment to discuss your poor choices.”
“I’m not in the mood for drama,” I say.
“Funny, I find drama amusing, so we should stay.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend,” I bite out and Leo’s laughter grinds my bones.
“I’ve never seen you so worked up. This is going to be more fun than I could have imagined.”
“Jesse!” Scarlett calls out. “Please, Jesse, wait!”
I drop my head and wonder why the hell everything has to be so hard. Scarlett goes from a run to a fast walk. As she approaches, I can hear her hurried breath.
“What do you want, Scarlett?” I demand, and my voice is as sharp as the razor blade that went through me when she walked out of her house on the arm of that moron from school.
She stops short of Leo and me, and thanks to the faint light of the moon, I can make out her wide, wild eyes. Curls fall from the elaborate bun on her head, and it hurts that she’s so beautiful. Scarlett’s always pretty, but there’s something that catches in my chest when she looks so … untamed.
Scarlett swallows as if talking through her breaths is a chore. “I need to talk to you.”
“Then talk.”
Her eyes dart to Leo then back to me. “Can we talk alone?”
“But where would the fun in that be for me?” Leo asks.
None. I scowl at my, in theory, friend. “V needs us.”
“She does.” Leo’s smile fades. V being in physical pain is no joke to either of us. He holds out his hand to make it clear he intends to go alone. “But I got it from here.”
I toss the baggie in my grasp to Leo, and he catches it. Scarlett’s eyes somehow open wider. “What’s that?”
I could lie, but it’s not worth it. Her going out with that six-foot beanpole means she’s already made up her mind about me. “Pot.”
“What did you say?”
“Pot. Marijuana. It’s a drug people smoke.”
“Some eat it,” Leo adds. “I’m partial to brownies.”
I shoot him a death glare because I don’t need his help. He grins again.
“Why do you have it?” she fires off.
“Why do you think?” Pot helps numb V’s pain. The goal tonight is for her to not cry herself to sleep. I cross my arms because no matter what I say, Scarlett’s going to judge me, and like everyone else, judge me wrong. “Still want to talk or am I no longer worthy of your presence?”
She purses her lips as if she’s the one who has the right to be pissed off, and the expression works under my skin. This girl drives me insane.
I should walk, but Scarlett and I need to have this out. “Go on, Leo.”
“Seriously, that’s how you’re going to leave me?” Leo turns his back to me and heads into the trees. “Cliffhangers suck.”
I can’t look at Scarlett as I wait for his footsteps to fade into the night. My muscles lock up in anger, and I berate myself. Keep it civil, keep it simple. I was right years ago—we can’t be friends. Scarlett and I are on two different wavelengths.
“What do you need?” I say, and gather my courage to look her in the eye. What I wasn’t prepared for was the hurt in them.
She drops her gaze to the ground. “I didn’t want to go out with him. My friends set it up and told me about it today. I didn’t know how to back out of it without upsetting anyone.”
She’s okay testing me, but won’t say no to anyone else? Why do I get the short end of this stick? “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m not your boyfriend.”
“But you’re my friend,” she rushes out.
“I don’t know what we are anymore.”
“You said we were friends,” she says softly. “Are we not anymore?”
“You should go home. My friends need me.” And she doesn’t.
Her eyes fill with tears, and pain shoots through me. Each day has been torture as I’ve waited for her to trust me, and it’s clear she has no intention of trusting me again. Not wanting to see the agony in her eyes, not wanting the guilt for being the one putting that ache there, I turn away and start for the forest.
“Jesse!” Scarlett calls with a tremble in her voice. “Please, stop!”
I round so quickly that my heart picks up speed. “Why should I? I’ve asked you for weeks to trust me, to give me a chance, and you put me off.”
Nothing but stunned silence from her.
“If I met your friends’ approval, your family’s approval, you would have instantly been out your window. So your friends made you go on the date, but I gave you a choice and you didn’t take it. I know you’re messed up, but I’m messed up, too. If you want me to stay, you’re going to have to give me a damned good reason and it has to be better than you’re broken because I already own that excuse.”
I wait for her to say something, to say anything to salvage us, but I’m met with her stoic silence. Forget this. Forget her. I don’t need her or the pain she brings. I turn to go again, but her fragile voice stops me.
“He … he hits my mom,” she says, then gasps as if she’s fighting for air.
My vision tunnels and my brain goes fuzzy as I hear the memory of the slap as my mom was struck. My childhood screams reverberate in my mind.
“My … my d-dad hits my mom,” she continues, and I look over my shoulder. Scarlett claws at her throat even though there’s nothing there to strangle her. She begins to quake, or maybe I’m the one who can’t stop shaking.
“I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared and I’m angry. I’m sorry I never came to see you when you asked, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I know I made a mistake, but I need a friend, and you said you were it. So are you? You made a mistake when you hurt me, and I know I’ve been making mistakes now, so we need to figure it out. Are we meant to be friends or are we one, big tragic mistake?”
SCARLETT
I struggle to breathe, and terror causes me to flinch. Oh my God, what did I do? I told him. I told Jesse he hits her.
My stomach lurches, a cold sweat breaks out along my bod
y and dizziness hits my head so quickly I stumble. Oh God, I told someone. I told him and then he’ll tell someone else and that someone will tell two more people and people will continue to talk until it reaches Dad.
Heat blasts through my body, and I convulse with a dry heave. My head becomes light as my body becomes heavy, and as I drop to my knees, strong arms wind around me and help lower me to the ground. Jesse’s chest presses against my back. He holds me up as I dry heave again, and I don’t have the energy to keep from planting face-first into the ground.
Tears stream down my cheeks, the entire world shudders and I hear whispering in my ear. Soft words with lips close to my skin. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.”
My head shakes violently back and forth. So violently that I lose my ability to suck in air. It won’t be okay. Nothing will be okay ever again.
“Shhhh.” Jesse holds me closer and soothingly rocks us as he gently gathers my hair and raises it off the back of my neck. Cooler air hits my heated skin and it’s welcome. “Deep breaths. Take deep breaths, Scarlett.”
I try, but a strange sound leaves my mouth and it frightens me. I can’t breathe. Something is strangling me. I can’t breathe!
“Do it with me,” Jesse says in such a calm tone, a commanding tone, and I will myself to listen. “Come on, do it with me. Breathe in.” And he does, his chest moving in. “Then out.” His long breath glides along my cheek, and I’m able to release a short breath.
He continues in the same reassuring voice, holds me with the same courageous strength, and slowly my inhales and exhales become longer, become more solid. The heat leaves my body, a strange calmness settles into my soul, and all the loud and angry voices in my head go silent. A wind blows through the trees, and I shiver as I’m left a clammy mess.
Jesse shifts slowly as if giving me room to bolt, but I don’t. I move with him as he sits on the ground and gathers me onto his lap. He encourages me as I rest my head in the crook of his neck, and he rubs my arms to help ease my prickling skin.
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