Gramps shoos me away from doing the dishes after supper, so I head upstairs to change back into my original outfit. I stop to stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the back of my door, trying to see myself the way a stranger would. My hair is my best feature. It’s thick and straight, and thanks to a lack of any recent haircut, hangs almost to my mid-back. Ordinarily it’s a mundane shade of light brown, but when the sun hits it I have coppery highlights that emphasize the green in my hazel eyes.
Right now, in the artificial light cast by the lamp on my dresser, it’s difficult to find anything remotely special about my appearance. My hair color appears boring, and my eyes more brown than green. The sweatshirt I’m wearing hangs loosely around my thin frame, jumbling what few curves I have. I walk over to my closet, swinging the slightly ajar door fully open so I can peer at the contents. There are only a few hanging items to flip through. A jean jacket, which is out because I’m already wearing denim, a sweater that shrunk last winter, my rain jacket, and a navy blouse. I actually like the blouse a lot, but it’s entirely unsuitable for January. Sighing, I close the door and resign myself to my current outfit. I’ll be wearing a winter coat, anyway.
I head back downstairs. Gramps is still in the kitchen, finishing up the dinner dishes. He looks up when I enter the room.
“Okay, I’m going to head out,” I tell him. “I’ve got my cell. Call if you need anything, all right?” I hesitate. I’m gone all day at school, but hardly ever at night. What if he needs something? What if . . .
Gramps reads the uncertainty on my face. “I’ll be fine, Lennie. Won’t ride one of the stallions or move any hay bales. Just a Jays game and bed for this old man.” He grins, and it creases the skin around his hazel eyes, the exact same shade as mine. Even when his face relaxes the lines remain, the folds firmly etched in his face after decades of squinting in the sun at horses galloping by. His expression sobers, and his voice gains a bit more authority. “Go have some fun, all right?”
I nod reluctantly, and then head out into the chilly evening.
SEVEN
__________________________________
The Belmonts live on the outer fringes of town, part of a newer subdivision on land that used to be a horse farm. I know a development like this is exactly what would happen to Matthews Farm if we ever sold it. Land in Landry is too valuable to graze horses on when the coveted zip code ensures people pay outrageous sums to live on the same patch of earth.
The truck wheezes as I reach the final hill that Cassie’s family’s house is perched on, and I exert a little more pressure on the gas pedal. Despite constantly sounding like it’s on its dying breath, I’ve never actually had the truck break down on me before. Hopefully that’s a trend that will continue.
I park behind Cassie’s silver SUV and climb out, surveying her neighborhood. I’ve visited her home before, but this is the first time I’ve come over at night. Lights blaze, not only in her house’s windows, but in the neighbors’ as well. It’s a foreign sight to me. Matthews Farm is about fifteen acres. There’s no one who lives close enough for any lights to be visible.
The winding, stone path leading up to the front door is well-lit as well. Trimmed hedges that line it have been wrapped with hundreds of small, twinkling lights. They weren’t up the last time I was here, so I assume it was part of their holiday decorations. I ring the doorbell. Only a few seconds pass before I hear the pounding of footsteps, indicating someone is on their way.
The black door swings open to reveal a guy I’ve never seen before. He’s older than me, but probably not by more than a couple of years. Cassie has mentioned two older brothers, so I surmise this must be one of them. It’s pretty evident they’re related. He has the same dirty blonde hair and brown eyes as Cassie. And the same friendly grin, although his is tinged with a bit of mischief I don’t ordinarily associate with my sweet friend.
“Hey,” I greet. “Is Cassie home?”
“Yup,” he replies, still smiling broadly. But he doesn’t move to open the door any further.
“Could I come inside to talk to her?” I ask, raising a brow expectantly.
I feel him look me up and down. A roguish smirk forms. “I’d rather you spoke to me instead.”
I roll my eyes. Where does this endless supply of cocky, overconfident guys come from? And how the hell do I end up attracting them like magnets? “I don’t thin—”
“Josh! What the hell?” Cassie suddenly appears, shoving her brother to the side and giving me a wide smile. “Ignore him. Come on.” She opens the door so I can enter the expansive front foyer of the house.
“I was just getting to know your friend,” Josh says, completely unabashed.
Cassie grimaces. “Josh, Lennon. Lennon, my annoying brother Josh with poor manners. Introductions done!” She grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards the stairs.
“Are both your brothers home?” I ask curiously as we start climbing the wooden staircase.
Cassie sighs. “No, just Josh. He’s still on break from school. He was supposed to be off skiing, but his flight got delayed or something. He’s been driving me crazy. He doesn’t know anyone here, so he’s got nothing to do. But I don’t know what he’s complaining about. He’s not the one who had to start over at a new school senior year. He just has to live here for a few weeks.” She gives me a hesitant glance. “Not that I don’t like it here, I just—”
“It’s fine.” I realize she’s worried she may have offended me, and rush to assure her she didn’t. “I get what you mean. And Landry’s not exactly an easy place to live.” An understatement.
Cassie leads me inside her bedroom, which is massive, especially in comparison to mine. It’s decorated entirely in shades of white, which sounds boring, but is actually incredibly soothing. I take a seat on the cream-colored loveseat while Cassie perches on an ivory stool located in front of a matching vanity with a vast array of make-up spread across it.
“I’m almost finished with my eyeliner, then we can do yours,” she informs me.
“Do my what?”
“Your make-up.” She gives me a “duh” look.
“You don’t need to do that,” I assure her. “I’ll just watch you get ready.”
“Why? Do you not think people will be dressed up?” Cassie asks me, suddenly looking nervous. She sees me as some sort of guide for all this, and I have no idea how to break it to her that I’m far more clueless than she is.
“No, I’m sure they will be. It’s just—well, I don’t want people to think I care,” I admit. “It will just give them more to talk about.”
Cassie’s face softens. “I’m not going to pretend like I understand the social dynamics of this town, because I don’t. At all.” I laugh. “And I know some people are shitty. But I also think some of them might surprise you if you give them more of a chance. I know Shannon really likes you. So do the rest of the girls. They all think you don’t like them.”
I open my mouth to reply, but she keeps talking, so I snap it shut again.
“Just think about it, okay? If you don’t want to wear make-up because you don’t want to, that’s fine. Just don’t decide based on what others might do or say.”
I know she’s right. “Okay,” I sigh. “Just a little, though.”
Cassie beams. “That’s all you need, anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t Shannon or any of the others say anything to me?” I ask. “I mean, no offense, but I’ve known them all a lot longer than you have.”
“Are you serious?” Cassie asks. Then she answers her own question. “I guess you are. You’re intimidating, Lennon. You’re smart and gorgeous, and you might care what other people think, but you don’t act like you do. And you always know just what to say. People are envious of you.” I scoff, and it’s thick with disbelief. “I mean it,” Cassie insists. “You should have heard the girls at lunch yesterday after you went to sit with Caleb. I mean, he’s Caleb Winters.” Her voice holds the same blatant admiration I�
�ve heard so many times before.
I shrug. “He’s just a guy.” My voice is indifferent, but I’m not. Not entirely. I keep picturing him sitting across the table from me in the library this morning.
Cassie shrugs, evidently not sensing my mixed emotions. Maybe she’s right; I am better at hiding my true feelings than I thought. “True. But he’s a very hot, very popular guy this entire town seems to have some sort of unhealthy obsession with.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I acknowledge.
Cassie keeps talking as if I hadn’t spoken. “None of us could come up with anything to say to him, but you acted completely normal. Not that it mattered. He didn’t pay attention to anyone but you.” Her voice is a bit envious.
She’s right, I realize, with a jolt of surprise. Given Caleb’s reputation as a heartbreaker, I would have expected at least one or two flirty comments directed at my lunch companions in his quest to finish our outline.
Cassie doesn’t bother waiting for a response, too excited about me agreeing to her makeover. She beckons me over to the stool and sets to work. It’s a surprisingly relaxing process. A swipe of lip balm and some moisturizer is usually the extent of my morning routine. I have a new appreciation for the girls who show up at school with a full face of make-up when I realize how long it’s taking Cassie to do what she assures me is a minimal amount. Finally, she finishes, and I have to blink at my reflection a couple of times. The liquid she spread across my whole face has given me a glowing, dewy complexion. My lips look soft and shiny. And my eyes look green again, thanks to the flattering lighting that surrounds the vanity and the black Cassie has rimmed my eyes with.
“Wow, thank you,” I tell her, hesitantly raising a hand to touch underneath my left eye. The patch of skin that normally appears almost bruised has been seamlessly altered, providing me with the appearance I’m well rested rather than sorely sleep deprived.
After make-up, Cassie moves right along to clothes. I lounge on the loveseat as she tries on outfit after outfit, before finally settling on a pair of black skinny jeans and a sparkly sweater. Then, her attention shifts to me. I end up swapping my oversized sweatshirt for a dark red sweater that clings to my figure. As we head out the door to go back downstairs, Cassie hands me a gray woolen jacket to wear over it. The material and sleek design look fancy enough to be an outfit all on their own. I feel completely transformed as we head back downstairs. Only my jeans remain unchanged, but I know that’s mainly because I’m several inches taller than Cassie.
“Mr. Nice Guy is not going to know what hit him,” she remarks as we reach the entryway.
I laugh, but it morphs into a yawn.
Cassie eyes me critically. “Lennon! It’s not even ten yet!”
“I know,” I reply. “Early morning, that’s all.” Not to mention I ordinarily go to bed around ten, never mind when I’ve been up since four thirty.
The faint sound of raised voices is just audible as we prepare to depart. Cassie seems to rush to put on her shoes, but she doesn’t say anything, and I don’t either. Avoiding uncomfortable family drama is certainly something I can appreciate.
We’ve just reached Cassie’s SUV when a shadow emerges from the side of the garage. I study it curiously, but Cassie jumps a few feet in the air.
“Josh!” she exclaims when the twinkling lights reveal her brother’s features. “What are you doing out here?”
He jerks his chin in the direction of the house. “Avoiding them. Can I come with you? Just for a bit?”
“To a high school party?” Cassie scoffs. But her gaze wanders to me, and I can see the conflict reflected there.
“I’m nineteen, not thirty,” Josh retorts.
Cassie holds my gaze, and I can see the silent question hovering.
“Marcus is the youngest of five,” I inform her. “There will probably be some older kids there.”
After another moment of hesitation, Cassie nods. “Okay, you can come,” she tells Josh. He grins. “But if you embarrass me, I’ll tell Mom and Dad some things that will make their current argument look tame, got it?”
Whatever she’s threatening Josh with must be pretty unsavory, because he nods immediately. The three of us pile into Cassie’s car, and she immediately turns the stereo up, assaulting our ears with some pop ballad about a broken heart. I don’t know if she’s trying to prevent Josh from speaking or keep me awake, but she accomplishes both as we whizz along the empty roads.
More than awake, I feel . . . normal. Listening to a famous musician rage about making an ex pay while headed to a party with a friend might be commonplace for most high school girls, but for me it’s a rare event. Exceedingly rare. I savor the feeling as best I can while simultaneously feeling like I might keel over from exhaustion despite already sitting.
I give Cassie directions for a while, but stop bothering once we turn on Marcus’ street. It’s pretty obvious which house we’re headed towards. The actual home is quiet, with only a couple of lights on, but the path to the right of it is lined with cars, and the sound and sight of activity is evident through the trees as we all climb out of the car.
There are a few other groups arriving at the same time as us, and I attract a lot of stares as we walk along the mowed path. I’m not sure if it’s simply because I’m here, or if it’s because I’m here with the “new girl” and a strange guy, but it’s irksome.
Josh notices. “You a local celebrity or something, Lennon?”
“Or something,” I mutter back as we emerge in the clearing. And that’s all it is. A large patch of grass ringed with trees and filled with people. This is it? I can’t help but think. The complementary adjectives I’m accustomed to hearing on Monday mornings don’t seem to fit with the scene in front of me. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I feel strangely let down, like an illusion has been shattered.
Cassie takes in my lackluster expression. “Come on.” She laughs. “Let’s get a drink and try to find Sam.”
“I’ll catch up with you guys,” Josh says, before heading towards a group of girls.
Cassie tracks his movements closely as we head in the direction of the two kegs perched on the periphery of the clearing, next to a few cars fortunate enough to avoid being parked on the sloping path.
“He better not embarrass me,” Cassie mutters as we walk along. I don’t answer, busy taking in my surroundings. I study my grouped classmates closely as we pass them by, feeling like an anthropologist sent to observe a foreign culture, rather than a high school senior in the midst of people I’ve known since kindergarten.
Although, to be fair, the peer I’m most concerned about encountering has only attended the same school as me since ninth grade.
I scuff my sneakers along the grass, interrupted with dirt patches worn by years of teenagers partying at this very spot alongside Marcus’ older siblings.
“Come on, Lennon,” Cassie urges, finally losing patience with my pace and grabbing my hand to tow me along faster. “Try not to look like you’re being tortured just by being here, please.”
I paste the widest, fakest smile I can muster on my face as she drags me past a couple making out against the truck parked closest to the keg.
Cassie laughs at my expression as she fills two plastic cups with beer. “Much better.” I drop the fake smile and try to muster a real one.
I take a long sip of the cold, frothy liquid filling the cup she hands me. The malty smell is strangely comforting, reminiscent of lazy Sunday evenings spent sprawled out on the living room rug studying while my grandfather nursed a bottle of beer until it was lukewarm at best.
“Let’s go over to the bonfire to wait for Will,” Cassie suggests.
“Okay,” I agree, feeling a little less like an outsider with a red cup in hand and hops coating my tongue. The power of peer pressure.
I spin around to follow Cassie towards the roaring flames, and then the next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion. My left foot catches on something—an errant stick,
or maybe an empty beer can—and I’m suddenly off-balance, falling forward when I want to be upright. I take a quick half-step to right myself, and watch in horror as beer sloshes out of my full cup and drenches one half of the couple kissing against the truck. The person I soak turns out to be Madison Herbert. The girl who, as she’d be the first to tell you, is considered to be Landry High’s most popular is now dripping with beer, courtesy of my clumsiness.
Despite the fact she ranks quite high on the long list of people I don’t like very much, horror hastens my apology. “I’m so sor—” The last word dies on my tongue when I realize who she was kissing.
Blue eyes burn mine.
I tear my gaze away from Caleb. “It was an accident,” I inform Madison. She glances up from her dripping clothes with venom spewing from her eyes.
“Like your birth? You bitc—”
I don’t think; I react. And it’s immensely satisfying to grab Cassie’s full cup from her hand and douse a second coat of beer over Madison’s once-pristine appearance.
She gapes at me, completely stunned. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen her speechless.
“That one was on purpose.” I brush past Madison without another word, but I take the time to knock my shoulder against Caleb’s arm. Not as hard as I’d like to, but hard enough he feels it.
“Whoa,” Cassie breathes once we’re far enough away they can’t hear us. “I, uh, I can’t believe you did that.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I probably shouldn’t have.”
“Are you kidding?” Cassie replies. “It was amazing.”
“Really?” I respond. “She’s probably going to come after me now. And you,” I add, with a touch of anxiety. I can handle whatever Madison comes up with. I’ve become impervious to it by now. But Cassie? She’s too nice for petty drama.
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