On the way home, Reid plugs his iPod in, turns the speakers all the way up, and rolls down the top of the Viper. We race south on I-75, going well over seventy-five miles an hour, but my heart’s beating even faster. We circle my trailer once, making sure Mom’s Malibu isn’t parked out front. Reid leaves with a kiss good night, and I head off toward bed to sleep, but not to dream. What happened today was better than any dream I’ve ever had, and all I need to do tonight—and, I hope, tomorrow—is keep reliving it.
6
FRIDAY, JUNE 27
“Why do you want to go back over there?” Ashley asks.
“It’ll be fun,” I goad her. I’ve gone an entire week without Reid. The withdrawal’s teaching me how addicts must feel. We’ve talked on the phone, but he’s been too busy to see me.
“Those people were pretty scary.”
“Give it a chance,” I say. “Let’s go over to night.” Although I can’t admit it to Ashley, some of Reid’s friends scare me too, but the reward’s way bigger than any risk. Still, even if she and Evan don’t come into the house with me, knowing they’re around is important. Sometimes I think friends are like mirrors: you can’t really see yourself without them looking back at you.
“Okay, maybe,” Ashley says, without enthusiasm. We’re sitting by the pool at the Ambrose house, which is a couple of doors down from Ashley’s. They’re away on vacation, and Ashley’s parents arranged for her to dog sit. Banjo, Buster, and Pippin frolic in the large backyard, jumping in and out of the pool and amusing themselves with dog toys while we talk.
“I think there are a lot of cool people,” I suggest.
“If by cool, you mean stoned,” she replies.
“Not everybody there is like that,” I tell her, still holding back Reid’s name. I have to tell Ashley about Reid eventually but I hope I can keep him secret until I know for sure it’s real this time.
“I’m just saying,” Ashley says.
“What do you want to do to night, then?”
“It’s Friday night, so I don’t have a choice.”
“Is that really what you want to do?” I ask her. “Sit around the house playing Uno with your parents?”
“No,” she admits, although I won’t let on how many times I’ve enjoyed the boring sameness of their Uno game as opposed to the screaming bedlam in my house.
“You know, the other day at Kate’s house, that felt like summer,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean all the stuff you see on TV and movies. Isn’t summer supposed to be about having a bunch of friends, laughing, and doing all the stuff you can’t do during school?”
“And being stoned,” Ashley adds.
“Ashley, no one’s making you do anything you don’t want,” I remind her. “I’m not doing anything, so why should you?”
“I just hate being around people like that,” she says, with that faraway look in her eyes. I know I can’t convince her, so I just go silent and listen to the dogs play. For most of our friendship, Ashley and I have wanted the same things, so I don’t think either of us knows how to proceed. We don’t want to hurt each other’s feelings, but one of us is going to have to give in. And it isn’t going to be me. I’m becoming Danielle the Defiant, even to my BFF.
“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you,” I finally say.
“What’s that?”
“Let’s go over there to night, and if you still feel the same, I’ll never bring it up again.”
“Deal,” Ashley says, then we do the spit shake I’d shown her.
We gather up the dogs, and Ashley triple-checks the lock on the house door and the latch on the backyard gate before we exit. She won’t admit it, but she’s scared about taking on this responsibility. As we walk back to her house, she starts telling me about the new Holly Black novel she’s reading, but I can’t pay attention to fantasy fiction when I’m already living it.
“We’re going out for a while,” Ashley announces after she wins yet another Uno battle. I’ve noticed Ashley rarely asks her parents if she can do something. Instead, she just tells them her intentions and leaves it up to them to correct her, which they rarely do.
“It’s pretty late,” her father says. It’s all of nine o’clock.
“For old people,” Ashley half whispers, earning a frown from her mother.
“Where are you going?” her father asks.
I step in, as Ashley and I had agreed. She said she couldn’t lie to “the ’rents,” but didn’t see anything wrong if I did, so I answer, “My friend Evan is taking us to a nine thirty movie.”
“I see,” her mother replies to my half-truth. Evan is picking us up, just not for a movie.
“I want you home by midnight,” her father says.
“Which is too late,” her mother adds, “but since you already made plans… Next time, Ashley, ask us first.”
“I know,” Ashley says out of the side of her mouth, trying to hide her smile.
“Do you want us to let out the Ambroses’ dogs for you?” her mother asks, but before Ashley can answer, her father interrupts.
“That’s her responsibility,” he says. Ashley lets out a sigh, but nods in compliance.
“We should call Evan and remind him,” I say, and then Ashley and I quickly leave the room. I use her cell and catch Evan just as he’s leaving work. Like Ashley, he doesn’t sound too interested in hanging out again at the Barker house, but it’s easy for me to get Evan to do whatever I ask him. After I hang up the phone, I feel shitty about using him like this, but I also know he wants to use me. He likes me and all, but Mom’s right, most boys just want one thing, and I wasn’t providing it to him. I’m sure if I gave it to Evan, he’d toss me aside right after, like so many of the Dad wannabes did to Mom. One friend uses another; welcome to the summer before I turn sixteen.
• • •
We’ll arrive at Reid’s later than I wanted, thanks to Buster, who suddenly decides to take a swim. It takes all three of us to corral him out of the pool. As I look at my wet white T-shirt, and see Evan staring at it, I wonder if he’d thrown a toy into the pool for Buster to fetch. I want to go inside the house to find a towel, but Ashley’s agitated about the noise we’re making. She wants us to leave but the dogs aren’t cooperating.
“I wasn’t supposed to bring anybody over here with me,” Ashley says, sounding furious, mostly at herself, even if she’s staring at me. “I should have had you guys stay in the car.”
“Blame Buster,” Evan says, looking at Ashley and not at me for once.
“They said no guests, no parties,” Ashley says, gritting her teeth.
“We’re not guests, we’re your friends,” I remind her.
“And this is no party,” Evan cracks. That even gets a small laugh out of Ashley.
We finally get the dogs back into the house and drive over to Reid’s place. As we pull in front, I can hear music playing. Just before we get out of Evan’s car, I mumble to myself, “Now this is a party.”
“Is Reid around?” I ask the guys standing in the driveway. Evan and Ashley are still in the car, acting like they’re afraid to set foot on an alien planet.
“I don’t know,” the guy replies, then laughs. He and two other guys are kneeling next to a jacked-up Caddy. They’re drinking beer, listening to Lil Wayne, and putting on new rims.
“Be nice, she might be a friend of Reid’s,” guy number two mutters. “He’s inside somewhere.”
“Thanks,” I reply, which causes all of them to laugh. Manners don’t matter much here. I look back at Evan and Ashley; they’re still in the car. I like my friends, but I don’t understand why they won’t give this a chance. Why can’t they act how I want them to?
Once inside the house I notice that there are actually fewer people around than the time before, and these people seem older. There’s more faint recognition of some faces, although with their glazed eyes, it’s harder for them to see me. I walk around for a while by myself, picking up—but not drin
king—a beer to look like everybody else. Following a trail of smoke and loud laughter, I end up on the back porch, where a small group is hanging out. I light up a cigarette, just blending in.
For a long time, nobody talks to me, not that I could hear anybody anyway over the booming rap music. No one’s challenging me or wondering who I am; at the same time, nobody’s really paying any attention. It’s kind of like school again, except I’m at least sitting down with the cool kids being ignored, rather than standing on the outside looking in.
“Where’s Reid?” I finally ask during the relative quiet between songs.
“He’s everywhere,” some heavily tattooed yet gorgeous girl says.
“And he’s nowhere!” a tall guy with her adds, cracking everybody up.
“Are you like his daughter, or what?” Tattoo Girl quips. That gets an even bigger laugh. I feel myself blushing, so I take a quick drag on my smoke and my first swig of the beer. I try to act cool, but I gag on the nasty warm Budweiser.
“Better get her a baby bottle,” Tattoo Girl says, earning another big laugh from the onlookers.
I quickly look around, wondering if Reid will rescue me again or if this is a test.
“You’ll need a baby bottle, honey, no way you could breastfeed with those,” I shout back, pointing at Tattoo Girl’s unfilled black beater.
“Oh, snap!” somebody shouts, then more laughter.
“More than a mouthful is wasted,” Tattoo Guy says, pulling Tattoo Girl closer to him.
After that, people, including the inked couple, start talking to me rather than around me. They talk mostly about cars, jobs they used to have or want to find, and getting apartments away from their parents. Every now and then, some classic heavy metal song blares out and everybody stops talking to sing along. It’s during one of these group sing-alongs, to Metallica’s “Enter the Sandman,” that Reid appears on the back porch.
Our eyes meet, then mine immediately dart back toward the ground. He walks over to me. Like everybody else, he’s got a smoke in one hand and a beer in the other, although he’s the only one drinking a Heineken: everybody else is sticking with Bud. I feel a cold sweat wash over my body in the June heat, unsure what I’m supposed to say or do in front of all these people. I wait for Reid.
“Everybody, meet Danielle,” he says to the group. He puts his hand on my arm, but doesn’t lean in to kiss me.
“Hey,” the group says in unison.
“She’s a friend of Vic’s,” Reid says, then laughs. “I told you Vic still had a purpose.”
It gets a laugh, but I’m dying inside. I’m not his girlfriend; I’m a friend of someone he doesn’t even like. I finish off my smoke, trying not to look at Reid’s green eyes, which push me away instead of pulling me in. I’ve gone from hot to cool to cold.
“Hey, look at me,” Reid whispers in my ear, rubbing up against me. “I was hoping you’d get here before everybody so we could have some time alone.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back. My mouth’s close to his face; I want to kiss him, but I can sense that’s not what he wants. At least not right here and now.
“What happened?” he asks.
I tell him the story about Buster’s sudden desire for a night swim. It’s hard for him to pay attention, not just because of the music, but because everybody wants a second of his time, either in person or on his always-ringing cell. It takes forever to finish the story, and while he’s looking at me, it doesn’t seem like he’s listening. He isn’t really listening to anybody, and so the porch soon clears out, except for Tattoo Girl and her boy. Reid’s yawning when he interrupts me. “Night swimming is so cool.”
I’m looking into his green eyes as my mind calculates the cost of betrayal against the rewards of romance. “We could go over there, if you want,” I say softly.
“Night swim pool party,” Reid says to Tattoo Girl and Boy. He puts out his cigarette on the porch, smashing the butt under his foot, and picks up a six-pack of beer from the cooler.
“Cool,” Tattoo Girl says to Reid. She gives me an “it’s all good” nod. Before I can say anything else, the tattoo couple head into the house, leaving me and Reid alone.
Reid turns around and puts out his hand, motioning me to join him. He grabs my hand and pulls me next to him. Seconds later, when he kisses me, it’s like all the air goes out of my body and into his. I wrap my arms around him as he pulls me tighter and whispers in my ear, “So, where’s this pool party going down?”
“We’re not taking all these people to…”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you get in trouble.”
“It’s more my friend Ashley that—” Before I can finish, Reid interrupts me.
“Hey, Wayne, we’re taking your wheels,” he shouts into the house.
“It’s always my wheels,” Wayne says, sticking his head back out on the porch. “I’m not cool enough to drive the Viper.”
“No one’s cool enough but me,” Reid laughs, then hands me the six-pack from the cooler. “It’s the black Impala behind the house. Meet me there after I clear out the trash.”
I watch as Reid strolls over to the main stereo in the living room. He turns it off, and at first there’s a lot of “who the fuck did that” grumbling, but it quickly ends when people see it’s Reid.
“What’s going on, dude?” one of the longhairs who’d been out front asks.
“Party’s over, clear out,” Reid says. “If you don’t like it, Brandon, don’t come back.”
“Dude, I was just saying,” Brandon says, almost stuttering.
“Somebody get those wannabes from the basement,” Reid says to no one in particular.
“Dude, I’m on it!” Brandon shouts, running off in record time.
As people leave, I look for Evan and Ashley, who are standing outside of Evan’s car. Standing with them is Angie, the prettier of the blond basement girls from the other day.
“So you’re Vic’s brother?” I hear Angie say to Evan as I join them by the car.
“I plead guilty,” Evan replies.
“Well, you won’t find him around here anymore. Reid and Vic are on the outs,” Angie says before I shut her up with my best evil glare.
“Reid?” Ashley asks Angie, but she’s looking at me.
“Yeah, Reid Barker. This is his house. He lives here with his mom,” Angie adds.
“Kate doesn’t live here?” Ashley says, still talking to Angie but staring straight at me.
“She’s with her dad someplace for the summer,” Angie answers. I feel like the front porch is sinking and water’s rushing in all around.
“Reid Barker,” Ashley says with disgust. It was only a matter of time: the truth is a seed that’s always ready to sprout. You can kick dirt on it, but it keeps growing toward the light.
“I’m getting a ride home with someone else,” I tell Ashley.
“I’m sure you are,” Ashley replies.
“Reid’s so cool,” Angie butts in. “Plus, he’s really sexy.”
I bite my bottom lip, but can’t keep my mouth shut. “What do you mean?”
“Great kisser, the best ever,” Angie says, then raises her overplucked eyebrows.
My face flushes fire-engine red; there’s a siren screaming in my heart.
“You his girlfriend or something?” Evan asks Angie, totally oblivious to me for once.
“I’m a friend,” she says, then winks. “With benefits.”
“Some friend,” Ashley mumbles to me. “Some benefit.”
I don’t even bother to say goodbye to Ashley or Evan, or scream “lying bitch” at Angie, before I bolt. I mix in with the dispersing crowd, but I don’t head toward the street. Instead, I circle behind the house to the alley. I catch my breath, make sure that Evan or Ashley haven’t followed me, then open up one of the Heinekens. It tastes less foul than the Budweiser, but it still can’t blot out the bitter taste in my mouth. I take one sip and hurl the bottle against the curb; it shatters into a hundred pieces and showers the
littered alley with alcohol. I stare up at the moon, a little crescent moon like Reid’s smile mocking me, and know I’m headed back to the lonely loveless life that losers like me deserve.
• • •
I’ve walked maybe a quarter of a mile away from Reid’s house when I hear, “Hey, you want a ride?” It’s Tattoo Girl, yelling from the open window of the Impala, which has pulled up next to me.
I pretend not to hear her voice, or the car slowing down. The metal music blasts out of the car, but Reid shouts over it. “What’s wrong?”
I wipe my nose and try to hide my stupid schoolgirl tears, but I keep walking.
“Come on, be cool,” Reid says. “We were waiting for you, but Angie said you split.”
“She would know,” I snap. The car stops, and Reid emerges from the backseat.
“What does that mean?” he asks. His arms are outstretched; mine remain at my side.
“She’s your friend with benefits, right?” I shoot back.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Reid says. He’s not shocked; in fact, he acts like he’s trying not to laugh at me. “Who told you that?”
“She did,” I answer with my arms crossed over my chest.
“She wishes,” he says, then laughs. “Angie has quite an imagination.”
I’m feeling stupid, so I glance away from him. “Then she’s not…”
“Look at me, Danielle. Angie’s nothing,” he reassures me. “She’s pissed from the other day and stirring up drama. You know how wannabes like her are, right? She’s jealous of you.”
“Really?” I ask, wiping my nose again.
“Angie isn’t anything to me,” Reid says. “Trust me on that.”
I stumble over what to say, flashing back across years of me screaming at my mother, “Trust me,” and her refusing to do so. Maybe it’s my turn to be better than her and believe. I let Reid pull me slowly toward him, allowing a gentle kiss, not a spit shake, to seal the deal.
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