This street is packed with cars, and I find Kara’s parked on the next one over. It takes me four tries to shimmy it out of its spot.
When I pull up to the party house, Kara is staggering at full drunken speed down the sidewalk. Ro is chasing after her. “What happened?” I yell as I open the car window.
“I don’t know. Some random dude walked out of the house across the street, and she took off.”
I drive to the end of the street, put the car in park, and jump out. Kara crashes into my arms. She looks terrified. “Help me,” she whispers.
Ro runs up and shakes her head in irritated confusion.
“I’m going to help you, and take you home,” I say gently to Kara.
She nods and lets me maneuver her into the car. She lies down in the backseat. Ro gets into the front. “Your friend is totally wasted.”
Kara whimpers.
I don’t remember how to get to Kara’s house. We drive up and down the quiet, dark streets of the hills looking for it. Kara is asleep. Ro looks out the window like we’re taking a nice Sunday drive.
I finally find the heavy iron gate that surrounds Kara’s neighborhood. I pull up to the keypad and look at Ro.
Ro twists around and pokes Kara. Kara moans. Ro pokes her again. “You have to give us the code.”
Kara opens one bleary eye. “Hi,” I say. “Can you tell us what the code is so that we can take you home?”
“5-7-0-4-3,” she mumbles.
I punch it in, and the gate slides open.
When we pull up to Kara’s house, there are no cars in the driveway and no lights on inside. I say a silent prayer that her parents are out of town. I don’t know how I would explain why I am bringing their very precious daughter home drunk in the early-morning hours.
Ro helps me get Kara out of the car. I use her keys to open the door. I remembered seeing an alarm when I was here before. I cringe and wait for something to start beeping or wailing, but nothing happens. No alarms, no parents thundering down the stairs.
We flop Kara down onto her bed. I roll her onto her side and prop a pillow under her to keep her from rolling onto her back, just in case. She’s so far gone that if she were to throw up, she might choke to death.
“I’m going to get her a glass of water for when she wakes up. Don’t touch anything.”
Ro throws her arms out to her sides in defense.
When I come back upstairs, Ro is leaning against the wall with her hands in her pockets. “Can we go now?”
“We can’t just leave.” I pull Ro out of the bedroom and whisper, “Someone’s been following her and leaving stuff, like pictures. She’s really scared.”
“Huh,” Ro says, and glances back into the bedroom. “So you think we should stay here and wait and see if some creep shows up? Good plan. She’s got a giant gate with a code. No one can get in here.”
She’s got a point.
“Take her house key to lock the door,” Ro says, and motions to the set of keys I left on the dresser. “If the front door is locked and the gate closed, it will be like any other night she’s here alone.”
I hesitate, but I reach for the key and scribble Kara a quick note saying that I have it. I’ll call her first thing in the morning to make sure she’s okay.
Ro follows me down the stairs. I hesitate again. Maybe I should stay; that’s what a friend would do.
“Cam can take us home.” Ro has opened the front door and is pointing to Cam’s Breland Construction truck parked in front of the Vargas’s house.
“Fine,” I say. I won’t win this argument with Ro. I lock Kara’s door behind us and pull out my phone to text Cam.
He doesn’t reply. I call. It goes to voice mail. I call again and again and again. There’s a light on in one of the windows. Someone’s up.
“What?” he finally barks into the phone.
“You need to take us home.”
“No.”
“We’re right outside your house.”
The curtains move in the window with the light. Ro waves.
“It’s Kara. She was drunk. We had to drive her home.”
“Dammit, Kara,” he says to himself. He hangs up. A couple of seconds later, the front door opens.
Cam doesn’t say anything or even look at us as he marches to the truck and gets in. Ro and I scrabble to jump in before he starts it and throws it into gear.
He slows as we pass Kara’s. “She’s in bed. I locked her door.”
He shakes his head, and under the white streetlights, I see real pain on his face.
“I’m guessing you don’t remember much,” I say when Kara groggily answers the phone.
“Thank you for the water by my bed.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?” You can tell me who’s leaving you the pictures.
“I know. And I will, but not right now. My head is pounding. I haven’t even made it downstairs yet.”
“Okay. Feel better. We’ll talk tomorrow. For real.”
“For real,” she says.
* * *
—
I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling until I can’t stand it anymore. Ro’s off doing whatever she does on Sundays. Dad and Monica are tucked away in their room—I do not want to know. And besides, I’ve been giving them, especially Monica, a wide berth. I don’t know how much Dad told her about the investigation into Brian, but I’m guessing she knows something. Enough to pay Cam to follow me around.
I pull on my shoes. Even though we can’t be in a relationship and my heart’s still sore, I can’t stay away from Ben. He’s the person I want to see more than anyone else. He’s like the fires: I want to stop, but I can’t. And he said he wanted to be friends, right?
* * *
—
The coffee shop is packed. I’ve never seen it so busy. The warm day has brought everyone out. A man and a woman in full bicycling spandex lounge at a table outside and sip that horrible tea while they guard their bikes. As I step past, the man reaches out and places a protective hand on his.
The line almost stretches to the door. I get in back of it. It’ll be worth the wait to see Ben’s face light up when I get to the front, but right now, he’s not paying attention to anything other than the register and the espresso machine.
A few other people join the line while I’m in the middle. It’s moving slowly. The woman who isn’t good with the register needs Ben’s help, so he jumps back and forth between taking money and making drinks.
The door whooshes open hard. The line turns to look at the motion. Kara sweeps in, pushing the hair out of her eyes with one hand and holding a plastic grocery sack in the other. She’s wearing her old sweats. Her face is puffy. She looks like hell.
I call her name, but she keeps going.
“Hey!” someone shouts as Kara elbows her way to the first position. She leans over the counter and says something into Ben’s ear. He doesn’t punch anything into the register or write on a cup. His eyes narrow. He motions with his head to the corner where the emergency exit and the stairs that lead up to his apartment are.
A second later, he comes out of the back and meets her there. I step out of line to see what’s going on. As I’m walking toward them, I see that Kara is crying. Ben puts a hand on her shoulder, like the man who put his hand on the bike outside. Protective and caring. I stop in my tracks.
Kara holds open the bag. Ben gasps.
“It was inside my house,” she says.
I step forward to join them, but Ben puts his arm around Kara. It is a practiced, loving gesture—not awkward or spur-of-the-moment. It’s something he’s done before. Many times.
He leads her up the back stairs to his apartment. I dash out to the parking lot and shield my eyes as I look up at his window. Soo
n the two of them are standing in it, arms around each other in an intimate embrace. He kisses the top of her head.
The itch cuts across my scar with such ferocity that it almost brings me to my knees. I rub it as I go back inside. There’s no need to panic. They have a past; I knew that. It doesn’t mean they have a present. Ben’s known what’s going on with Kara from the beginning. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for what I just saw.
They’ll come back down soon, and I’ll ask. We will work it out together. The three of us.
* * *
—
I finish my fourth latte. Ben’s coworker is wiping down the counter. It’s closing time, and I’m the only one left.
All day I sat here waiting for them to come down. I told myself over and over again that there was a reasonable explanation for what was taking so long.
I told myself I wasn’t jealous.
Ben’s coworker approaches me. “Um…” She points to the door and the growing darkness outside.
I scoop up my empty cup and stand. My legs are stiff. I hobble to the door and trash my cup.
One last look up the stairs. They’re not coming down.
I tell myself once again that I’m not jealous. Besides, Ben was very clear about not having a girlfriend right now. He and Kara are just friends. He’s just helping her out.
Ben’s coworker smiles apologetically as she locks the door, leaving me outside in the dark.
I text Cam. When he pulls up, he takes one look at my face and keeps his mouth shut the whole ride back to the Los Ranchitos.
* * *
—
The next morning, I struggle to get ready for school. I have a plan. I’m going to ask Kara ever so casually about her day with Ben. She’ll give me the reasonable explanation, and everything will be fine.
I flop back down onto my bed. Or she won’t, and it won’t.
Cam pounds on the door. I have no choice but to face this.
In the truck, we don’t talk. Cam sips from his travel mug and bobs his head to the song on the radio.
We cruise up to the road that runs past the coffee shop. The light turns red. I gaze down the street toward Ben’s building until the light turns green.
“Wait.”
Cam slams on the brakes. New plan. I’ll ask Ben. He’ll be more forthcoming than Kara. He’ll reassure me, and then life can go back to normal.
“Drop me off at the coffee shop. I’ll walk the rest of the way,” I say.
“You’ll be late.”
I scoff. Like Cam cares if I’m late to school. I shift around in my bee uniform and try again. “It will take five minutes. I just want to get a coffee before school.”
“Yeah, right,” he mumbles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
He rolls his eyes, but he flips on his blinker and makes the turn toward the coffee shop.
Five minutes. I will take five minutes to ask Ben about yesterday. Then I will run to school.
I wait until Cam pulls away before I go inside. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose. A woman in a suit uses her chin to balance several cups as she walks away from the counter. The counter that Ben isn’t behind.
I’ve never seen this guy before. I smile. “Hi. Is Ben here?” The guy looks over his shoulder and then back at me like I’m an idiot.
“Nope.”
“Do you know what time he works today?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. Thanks.” For nothing.
I really am going to be late for school. I walk to the corner. Kara’s car is parked on the side street. I cross over to examine it. There’s nothing on the windshield. Nothing amiss inside.
I jump as the door to Ben’s apartment building opens. He steps outside and looks around. I’m about to wave, when I see Kara come out from behind him.
Her hair is wet. She’s wearing a T-shirt I’ve seen Ben in at the clinic, and too-long black jogging pants that are bunched up at her ankles.
Ben puts his arms around her again. She looks up at him.
I can’t watch. I know what’s going to come next.
I spin on my toes and hightail it down the street.
Fine. I admit it. I’m jealous. And hurt. And mad. Maybe when Ben said he couldn’t be in a relationship, he meant that he couldn’t be in one with me.
Was this part of Kara’s big secret? That she’s been sleeping with Ben behind my back? That she’s been playing me?
When I got to school, I took Kara’s house key and slipped it through the vent in her locker. Then I went straight to the nurse. It wasn’t hard to convince her to send me home.
Once I was tucked back into bed, I told Dad to leave me alone. Then, thinking I had some sort of “girl problem,” he sent Monica. She only stuck around long enough to look at me suspiciously.
The duvet is too hot, but I don’t care. I want to be wrapped in its warm puffiness, where nothing bad can reach me.
The bathroom window slides open. “Go away, Ro!” I yell. She doesn’t. She walks in with her hands held up.
“Whoa,” she says. “Why aren’t you at school?”
I pull the duvet over my head. Ro crawls onto the bed next to me and leans against the headboard.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
If I talk about it, my anger is going to turn to sadness and I’m going to cry. I would rather be angry.
“Why aren’t you at school?” I grumble.
“First period is boring.”
She peels the duvet back. My staticky hair clings to it. “Did that boy you like do something to you?” Ro’s eyes are dead serious. She clenches a fist. “I’ll take care of him.” I’ve never seen this look on Ro’s face before. I believe she would stop at nothing to protect someone she cares about. It’s something we have in common.
I sit up. “No, it’s not like that.” Her fist unclenches. “He didn’t do anything to me. He was too busy doing Kara.”
Ro crinkle’s her face in disgust. “Your drunk friend from school?” Her eyes trace my face up and down, like she’s mentally comparing Kara and me. I come out on top. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either. She knew how I felt about him. She’s the one who told me I should go for it.”
“That bitch,” Ro says. “You were nice to her. We hauled her stinky ass halfway across town and tucked her in like Sleeping Beauty.”
She stands up and walks toward the bathroom. “Today calls for ice cream and bad eighties movies.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble for ditching school.”
She waves me away. “This is way more important than school.”
My heart warms. I don’t think Ro has many friends, which is why she hangs around me so much. Sometimes I wish she were less clingy, but then there are moments like this when I’m happy having her around.
She’s really the best friend I’ve ever had.
“You can go out the front door,” I call when I hear the window slide open, but her feet are already hitting the ground.
Thirty minutes later, Ro comes back with a Henderson’s bag full of what she calls “the broken heart special.” I don’t know where she got the money for it, and I don’t ask. She looks so proud to be able to help me.
She dumps the bag out onto the bed. Inside are two pints of ice cream, three bags of M&M’s, a package of Oreos, and two Slim Jims. She holds up one of the jerkies. “For lunch.” I laugh and her face glows.
By lunch time, I’m feeling better—queasy, but better. Ro seems to be having fun too. She picks another movie. We only watch the ones with explosions. “No soppy romantic comedies,” she declared as one of the rules of the day. That was fine by me.
Later, my phone buzzes. A text from Kara asking why I’m not at school and another one saying
she still wants to talk. I ignore them.
* * *
—
In the late afternoon, when Ro and I are both on a sugar crash with bleary eyes from so much TV, a stern knock sounds on my door. I don’t want to answer it, but I can’t ignore the outside world forever—the longer I do, the more likely Dad is to call Mom, and then I’ll have to deal with her.
I stand up, while Ro stays in her nest of wrappers on the bed. I look through the peephole. Cam shifts his weight from foot to foot, like he wants to run away.
When I open the door, Cam thrusts a stack of books and papers at me. “Your homework.”
“Dad sent you for my homework?” That doesn’t sound like something Dad would even think of.
“No. Kara texted.”
I narrow my eyes and stare him down. “I know,” I say. He glances around like he’s looking for an emergency exit from this situation. “I know about Kara and Ben.”
“Oh,” he says. “That.”
“Yes, that.” I feel my anger rising to atomic levels. Am I the only one who didn’t know about them?
Ro creeps up behind me. She takes the books. “Goodbye, man-boy,” she says, and closes the door.
I’m still standing facing the closed door. Cam’s footsteps retreat into the distance.
“Time for Terminator Three,” Ro announces.
* * *
—
I have to go to school. I can’t let on to Kara that I know about her and Ben. She can’t see that she’s gotten to me.
My scar is killing me. It didn’t get its release last night because Ro stayed too late. There wasn’t time to prepare. I’ve learned my lesson about not preparing. I can’t get seen again.
Kara meets me at my locker. “Are you feeling better? I texted you yesterday.”
“I guess my phone is broken.” I slam my locker door and push past her to class.
At lunch, she’s sitting at our table, looking down at a bowl of brown rice. She has deep, deep dark circles peeking out from under her glasses. Her hair’s even more of a mess than usual.
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