After brunch, we head over to Rob’s house. The cousins fly into the pool and start a pool game that has never gained popularity outside the Callahan clan. It involves a plastic bat, a Frisbee, and a tennis ball, and it has more rules than professional football.
Chloe and I slip out of our clothes and reveal our bikinis, finding a pair of chaise lounges by the pool. The noonday sun glints through the trees, and the day continues with promise until the screen door swings open and Rob’s neighbor storms into the party. “I need to talk to you about last night!”
I hold the sides of the chaise lounge, actually bracing myself for her pissy tirade. “Okay.” I am thankful for Chloe at my side and a house full of people around me.
Courtney parks herself on the side of the chair. “Did you forget about something last night—like your date with Ryan?” Since she does not lower her voice, our conversation gathers an audience. Courtney elicits drama at every turn, so she couldn’t care less who hears her.
“No,” I return icily. “I decided not to go out with him.”
“Because you got a better offer?” Her attention drifts toward Josh who has his eyes glued to our conversation.
“No, because I don’t want to see him again.” I narrow my eyes at her. “Plus, it’s really none of your business anyway.”
She leans toward me. “It is my business when one guy shows up at my front door, and the other one happens to be my ex.” She aims a painted finger right at Josh, and he offers her a little wave right before he dives into the deep end.
Chloe interjects. “Quiet down, Courtney.”
“I have every reason to be upset.”
“Maybe,” Chloe begins, “but Callie’s had a rough week.” I see that living with Chloe has created an even stronger alliance between us.
“After what she pulled last night, I’m all out of sympathy.” She stands up, folds her arms across her chest, and narrows her eyes at me. “You’ll be lucky if I ever speak to you again, Callie Williams.” I know what it means when parents use the first-and-last-name approach in an argument, so I have to think it means about the same thing when a friend utters it.
“Well, that’s fine by me,” I huff.
“Fine with me too!” She marches across the patio and curious eyes follow her out the door.
*****
The Secrets We Keep Page 45