by Sarah Sutton
She started picking at her cuticles, eyeing the house. “Someone from school said something about a volleyball net being set up in the backyard. That’d be great for me to practice.”
“As if you need practice,” I snorted. “You’re the best one on the volleyball team.”
And she was, even if she wasn’t totally confident in it. I always loved telling her that she was the best and the shortest, which was a feat in and of itself. Edith’s been on the volleyball team her entire high school career. I would know, of course. I’d been the one who’d gone to every game of hers, with homemade signs that said, to some effect, “My Best Friend Can Bump It.”
Pretty cringe-inducing, sure. Writing articles was my forte; I wasn’t at all artistic.
But her confidence had been shaken since last season, and I held back from saying “you’re going to get on the team” because I knew it would only make her more nervous. No way she’d be cut from the team her senior year.
“Are you going to do it?” Edith asked, glancing my way. “Finally break up with Scott?”
“That would be horrible if I did it at a party,” I said, knowing that was the coward in me showing. I looked at the house looming before us, hand hesitant on the car door. “And besides, I need his help for my article.”
“So, you’re going to prolong your crappy relationship just to use him for information?”
Well, when she put it that way, it sounded horrible. “That’s kind of messed up of me, isn’t it?”
Edith lifted a shoulder, unbuckling her seatbelt. “After everything he’s put you through, he deserves it.”
Now that the hum of the car shut off, the music filtered, muffled, into the sedan. Butterflies worked their way into a fervor in my stomach. Even though I deemed myself a journalist, I wasn’t a people-person. I didn’t mind being around them, but I was totally content to stay at home with my Persian cat, Shiba.
But Shiba wasn’t giving me any information for my article.
My glasses fogged a bit as I hopped out of the air-conditioned car and into the summer air, the humidity eating at me instantly. I pulled my purse tighter against my hip, drawing in a deep breath. Through the fabric, I could feel the edge of my notebook, a familiar pressure. I was an undercover journalist now, ready to soak up any baseball secrets I might hear.
I nearly ran into Edith’s back as she pulled to a halt. “What are you doing?” I asked, noticing that she kept twisting her fingertips, picking at her nails. “Come on, Edith. It’s going to be fun.”
“I know,” she said under her breath. “I just think—I think I left something in the car.”
I pressed a hand against her shoulder blades, pushing her forward. “You’re going in. Walk.”
“I-I was just admiring the landscaping. Look, is that a horse-shaped bush?”
“Uh-huh, cool.” I nudged her again to mount the porch steps. “Walk.”
When we opened up the door, I realized that there was a strong possibility that I’d made a mistake. There were so. Many. People. So many bodies clustered together inside, shadows mixing along the walls. Did all these people go to Bayview? Sure, it was a big school, but hardly any of these faces seemed familiar.
And, of course, the inside of this giant house was beautiful.
Everything was white and clean and pretty, like a model home from the inside of a magazine. I couldn’t help but wonder what it looked like without so many high schoolers ruining its classy vibe. A giant homemade banner hung above a marble fireplace in the living room, scrawled with black lettering: SCREW SCHOOL. A group of boys tried to get an empty beer can stuck in the crystal chandelier that hung above the stairs, hooting and hollering each time it knocked against the crystal and fell free.
“Ladies!” Out of nowhere, Walsh Hunter materialized with his hair hanging into his eyes, his black button-down untucked from his chinos. He looked like he planned on attending a fundraiser or something fancy rather than hosting a high school party. “Well, don’t you two look lovely tonight?”
However immune I was to Walsh’s charms, Edith was not. That was one of her downfalls: she allowed herself to be schmoozed by Mr. Perfect’s stupid smile. “This is an amazing party, Walsh.”
“I didn’t have a hand in it, unfortunately,” he said, raising his voice louder over the music. He glanced over to his living room, where everyone danced and talked. “Ryan decided it was time for me to host my first party and people just started showing up.”
Right. Ryan decided. And I bet Walsh didn’t complain.
“It’s Edith, right?” he asked, those blue eyes trained on her. “You played volleyball last season. You got a concussion midway through.”
I glanced at my best friend from the corner of my eye, watching for a shift in her expression. That game against the Greenville team was a touchy subject for her, the leading cause in her volleyball-induced anxiety. At the game, Edith did some sort of jumping thing—a spike?—but Eloise Xiang, a girl from the other team, blocked it, sending the flying ball back. There hadn’t been any time for Edith to dodge it before it hit her square in the face.
That concussion pulled her from the rest of the season. I only knew the girl’s name because Edith declared her a sworn enemy, never to be spoken of again.
Edith normally hated when the fateful game got brought up, but now she nodded, the widest smile spreading across her lips. “That was me, all right. And this is my best friend, Sophia.”
Walsh’s blue eyes shifted ever so slightly to me, taking in my appearance. “You’re the girl from the hallway. Nice to exchange names, Sophie.”
Great, now I had two nicknames. “Girl from the hallway” and “Sophie.” Oddly enough, I preferred the former.
“It’s Sophia,” I corrected him with a voice that could’ve frozen the summer air, squaring my shoulders.
Amusement colored Walsh’s features, as if he couldn’t tell I was being snarky. “Fire’s out in the back. There’s a keg on the porch if you’re looking for something to drink, Edith. Harder stuff’s in the kitchen.” Walsh gestured off to the side while looking at me. “There’s some juice boxes in the fridge if you’d like one, Sophie. Bottom shelf.”
“Juice box?” What did he think I was, ten?
“I stock them for the designated drivers. Something a little better than water.”
My jaw locked together with an almost audible click. I didn’t know what was worse: the fact that he offered me a juice box or that he automatically assumed I was the DD.
“Music’s going to be playing ’til dawn, so dance the night away, you two,” he said with one last smile, turning to disappear amongst the dancing people.
We both stared after him a moment, neither speaking.
Until Edith sighed. “He’s so dreamy.”
“More like a nightmare,” I muttered, my annoyance meter measuring to a million. At least he was gone now so we could focus. Or, really, so Edith could focus. “So, do you see any boys worth talking to?”
Meaning: do you see Zach Balker?
Edith glanced around, standing up onto her tip-toes to get a better view. I didn’t think that extra inch would help her much, but she sucked in a sharp breath. “I think I see one over by the speakers.”
I raised my chin to peer around the dancing bodies, finally spotting where a boy leaned against the far wall.
Sure enough, Zach stood there, sandy brown hair curled behind his ears, eyes focused on the red cup in his hand. He was also conveniently all alone.
“Oh, now’s your chance,” I told her, turning with a grin. “He’s all by himself.”
“Maybe we should get a juice box first.”
I reached out, grabbing her hands to stop her fidgeting. “Come on. Let’s talk to him and then I’ll find Scott.” I could wait a little longer to talk to him about baseball.
With a deep breath, Edith nodded, taking a step forward. All at once, the tension seeped from her skin, like a thin coat she shrugged off. As nervous as she’d been moments
before, no one could tell now. That was her thing. She was nervous until she wasn’t. Until she decided she needed to be a brave social butterfly.
See, Edith was in her element here, surrounded by dancing bodies and laughter, making a beeline for Zach.
I kept my eyes peeled, looking for Scott anywhere in this massive living room. He’d have been here by now surely, but the lights were too dim and there were too many people for me to spot him.
Edith held her arms close to her center as she approached Zach. “What’s a guy like you doing over here all by himself?”
If I knew Edith well enough, I knew she wouldn’t have been watching Zach’s expression. She would’ve focused on the cup in his hand or the way the collar of his jacket was slightly folded over. When she got nervous, she tended to keep her gaze off of people’s faces.
So she would’ve missed the way Zach’s eyes curved when he saw her, the green in them brightening in an instant. “I’m just waiting for the right person to walk up to me I guess.”
“Hopefully we suffice,” she said with a breathy chuckle, one that couldn’t have oozed any more flirt if she tried.
Zach jerked his chin ever so slightly. “Hey, Sophia. How goes it?”
See, Zach knew my name. We hadn’t spoken that often before—just when Edith approached him at a party with me trailing behind, as always—but at least he remembered and got it right. “It goes…good, I guess.”
If I could just find Scott.
Zach’s gaze flicked past me in a moment, locking on something behind me. His eyes narrowed, and Edith must’ve glanced up at him, because she turned too. “What are you looking at?” All at once, the color drained from her face. “Sophia—”
I almost didn’t want to turn around, to figure out what captured both of their attentions. A couple making out in the throng of people? Someone trying to scale the fireplace? Neither would’ve surprised me.
A few feet from us, people parted just enough to reveal a girl with dark, curly hair with her slender arms around the neck of a boy with a purple and gold varsity jacket. It was funny, because I only had one thought running through my mind as recognition stole over me: she’s a perfect height for him. The top of her head rose to his eye level. He and I were the same height, and we always made awkward eye contact.
Scott and I met at junior prom of all places, where I merely attended to cover it for the newspaper. Both of us were dateless and sitting alone during a slow song. He’d broken the ice by asking if I was from a different school because there was no way he’d miss someone like me walking down the halls of Bayview High.
We never went on dates—Scott didn’t see the need to go out in public—and only saw each other a handful of times each week outside of school. He wouldn’t come over to my house often since he didn’t like my parents, and he’d never invited me to meet his.
Now, staring at him with his arms around another girl, I figured out why.
For a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if I had already broken up with him. If maybe I’d just blocked it from my memory and we were already separated. Because surely he wasn’t at this party embracing another girl. Surely he wasn’t cheating on me. Surely if he wanted to see other people, he’d have the guts to cut ties with me first.
The lead feeling in my stomach rooted me in place.
“Sophia?” Edith’s voice was nervous behind me, soft. She must’ve stepped away from Zach, coming up just behind me. “What do you want to do?”
What did I want to do? About what? About the fact that my boyfriend’s mouth was in close proximity to another girl’s? His gaze was trained only on her—on her lips, really. His own angled up in a smirk.
My hands at my sides twitched, fingers aching to curl into fists, but there was a certain part of me that couldn’t get properly mad. Like I was separated entirely from the scene before me.
Until Scott’s eyes lifted from the girl, meeting mine.
Just leave, my brain told me, the franticness of my thoughts almost making me dizzy. Don’t make a scene. Don’t be like your parents. Talk to him about it later.
Edith stood directly behind me, though, a silent support that didn’t allow me to turn.
Scott’s arms unraveled from how they wrapped around the stranger. I expected him to be defensive, to deny what was so clearly obvious and try to talk me down. But what he did was the exact opposite. “Come on, Sophia,” Scott said with an eye roll. “Don’t give me that face.”
Energy buzzed in my chest, like my body longed to jump into action, but my brain didn’t know how to react. I was way too aware of the eyes that trained on us, on the dancing bodies that slowed to a standstill. “What face?”
“That ‘you’re breaking my heart’ face.” Scott came close enough that he didn’t have to talk so loud anymore, didn’t have to draw the attention of anyone else in the room, but he didn’t give up that power. In fact, his voice still sounded so loud in my ears. “Are you really that surprised?”
“Am I—what?” His words made literally no sense. The urge to laugh came, but nothing about this situation was remotely funny. “Am I surprised about what? You with—whoever that is?”
The girl peered around him, her blank gaze on me. Her brown curls hugged over her shoulders, a bit tangled as if someone run their fingers through it. She wasn’t even remotely familiar.
“We’re polar opposites, Sophia. You never come to any of my games. You always have your nose stuck in a book. And your parents—well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the weird department.”
I flinched, from his words and from his tone. The breath of air I tried to take in stuck in my throat, the harshness of his words making my chest ache. Yes, he was a Negative Ned more days than not, but never cruel. Not like this.
I didn’t want to look around me, to lock eyes with anyone in this horrible room.
But just over Scott’s shoulder, I saw Walsh, who looked back with an unreadable expression. A jolt of warmth splintered through me, but not the warmth of comfort—the heat of anger. Of course he got to witness this.
Everyone did.
“I want to have a good summer,” Scott went on, lifting a shoulder in a blameless shrug. “It’s better this way. You’ll be busy with your article and I’ll be busy…having fun. Doing what I want to do. Win-win, right?”
He kept talking, kept moving his thick jaw, but the numbness started to fade as the burn of tears built in my throat. My cheeks filled with fire, the heat from the room filtering into my body. “You’re breaking up with me because I’m not fun enough?”
“I’ve tried to make it work,” he sighed loudly, like he was the one being dumped. “I’ve tried to fix it. Fix us, fix you, but I just can’t do it anymore.”
Fix me. Fix me. Like I was broken. Like there was something wrong with me.
My gaze slipped past Scott once again, but this time, Walsh was gone.
For a moment, my brain sat completely empty of thought. The words burrowed their way into my skin, into my very being, making me feel wrong inside. Sick. Like his words were a slimy film covering every inch of me, getting in my eyes, sticking to my mouth. I took a deep, resetting breath. Mom did that sometimes when Dad ticked her off. She’d close her eyes, breathe in, hold it. Breathe out. Open eyes.
It didn’t seem to work for me.
Something hard and heavy landed over my shoulders in an instant, jarring me enough that I sucked in a loud, sharp breath. I almost thought someone shoved me, as if Edith reached out and pushed against my shoulders. But no, it wasn’t that. It was—
No. Freaking. Way.
“Scottie,” Walsh Hunter said with a slight tilt to his voice, jostling his arm to bring me closer against his side. He matched Scott in volume, making sure every ear could hear him over the hum of the party music. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”
No. Freaking. Way.
“No one needs you butting in, Walsh,” Scott said, annoyance shooting across his features.
“Oh, I’m not b
utting in. I actually want to come clean about something—I want everyone to know the truth.” Walsh moved away from me just enough so he could tip his head and peer into my eyes—that is, if I looked at him. I could barely move a muscle with the weight of his arm over me, and I so did not want to even glance his way. His voice held a dramatic edge to it, putting on a performance. “I’ve always had the biggest crush on Sophia.”
Now I did jerk my gaze up to meet his, no doubt disgust transforming my face. “What do you think you’re—”
Walsh rushed to cut me off, looking directly into my eyes. “And I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore. I want everyone to know how I feel about you. How we feel about each other.” He gave me a soft smile, one that a lover might get before a first kiss. A flash of fear nearly had me gagging. If he kisses me, I swear to God— “Now that Scott’s out of the picture, it can be you and me. Nothing is standing in the way of us being together anymore. Give me a chance. You’re worth it all, and I’ll prove it to you. What do you say? Go out with me?”
Fear of him kissing me transformed into rage. What exactly was he saying? Was he—was he freaking implying we had some sort of love affair? That we both had secret feelings for each other and were fighting to hide them? In front of all these people?
Of flipping course he was. There was nothing I could do but gape at him, jaw completely unhinged.
Everyone was staring at me—at Walsh and me—trying to catch a glimpse of what was going down. I caught one, two, several phones pointed in our direction, no doubt recording every single second of this nightmarish moment.
Have I died and ended up in hell?
I couldn’t form any sort of coherent response, and I couldn’t be in the room anymore, under the stares of everyone in the entire county. If I stayed, I really would end up crying—or screaming—because the pressure built more and more as my mind raced.
So I didn’t wait another second or answer Walsh’s insane question. I shrugged off his arm, brushed past Edith’s shocked expression and the gathered crowd of people, and ran out the back door that led into the night.