Outside, Brooke spotted Keisha sitting on the edge of the glowing pool, talking to some girls from school who were sharing a cigarette. Brooke decided she’d hit the bar before making her way over. Grabbing a beer from the cooler, she popped it open and took a drink, eager to get her buzz on. A cute guy in a brown leather jacket handed her a shot.
“Want it? Jäger.” Brooke wasn’t sure what Jäger was, but she took the shot and downed it. It tasted like licorice.
“This is disgusting,” she said, coughing.
The cute guy smiled. “One more?” he asked. Either he hadn’t heard her or he didn’t care.
“God, no,” Brooke choked after knocking back the shot. “One’s enough. I’ll take a shot of schnapps or something sweet.” The cute guy shrugged casually and turned back to get himself a third. A moment later, he handed Brooke a shot glass filled with syrupy orange liquid. Brooke clinked his glass and they took their shots together.
“Another,” he said, but Brooke waved him off and continued to navigate her way to the pool. As she meandered through the growing crowd, she heard her name.
“Brooke?” It was Jake. He emerged from a throng of people congregating around some girl with a tray of Jell-O shots.
“Oh, hey,” she said, surprised to see him.
“I’ve been texting you.” Brooke extracted her phone and saw two texts from Jake. He must’ve arrived right after she did.
“Sorry. The music’s loud. I didn’t hear ’em.” Jake seemed put off by her excuse and looked around. “It’s a nice place, huh?”
Jake nodded, uninterested. “Want a drink?” he asked.
“Sure.” Brooke led Jake back to the bar, where some guy she’d never met was pouring booze into plastic cups.
“Can you make him a dirty martini?” she inquired, feeling more sophisticated now than she ever had before.
“Beer’s fine,” Jake interjected and scooped up a can. He opened it but didn’t take a drink. After a few moments of awkward tension, Brooke saw a couple of girls abandon the patio chairs they’d been sitting on.
“Let’s go over there.”
“I think those girls are coming back,” Jake muttered as he followed her to the chairs. Everything about his demeanor suggested he didn’t want to be there.
“Move your meat, lose your seat,” Brooke chimed in and patted the floral cushion. Jake heaved a sigh and sat down. I hope he doesn’t act like this all night, she thought as she watched him loll his head to the side and stare off into the neighbor’s yard. If this was how it was going to be, she needed more to drink. Brooke slammed as much of her beer as she could.
“Brooke.” She turned around to see Keisha walking toward her with a sense of urgency.
“Hey, Keisha. You remember Jake, right?” Brooke wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Oh, yeah, hi.” Keisha was bubbly and pleasant, but Jake returned her warmth with a standoffish nod, before gazing off in the other direction.
“Maddie’s here with Tryg.” Jake looked back at Keisha, finally interested.
“He just got out of the hospital two days ago,” Brooke replied, sure that Keisha must be wrong. Tryg hadn’t even been back to school yet. What could he possibly be doing at the party? Making sure Maddie didn’t find someone better in his absence?
“I know, but he’s here. They seem to be very much together too.” Keisha nodded toward the bar, where Tryg had his good arm wrapped around Maddie’s shoulders, his other one still in a cast. He made a point of having trouble opening his beer until Maddie laughed and did it for him. Brooke exhaled. What a jerk. She hated seeing Maddie be used like that.
“That was a fast recovery,” Jake remarked. The sarcasm oozed from his words.
“He’s such an attention whore,” Brooke said as she watched people join them and pat Tryg on the back. They were probably all asking him to tell the story of the attack. Then something dawned on her. She hadn’t told Jake what happened to Tryg. Had she? No, she couldn’t remember telling him anything about it.
“How did you know he got hurt?” she asked.
Jake gave her blank look. “What do you mean?”
“I never told you what happened to him.”
Jake responded quickly, “Yes you did.” He raised an eyebrow as if she were crazy. “You said he got beat up as he was leaving work.” Had she told him that? She couldn’t remember. Maybe when he’d come to the house with flowers? It certainly wasn’t on their date in New York.
“When?” she asked.
“Seriously?” Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t remember, but you definitely said it. Maybe you should slow down a little bit.” The way he said it sounded more insulting than concerned. At least, from Brooke’s perspective, three drinks in, it did.
Whatever. She wasn’t going to think about it now. Her mind was already getting a little fuzzy and she was determined not to let anyone kill her buzz.
“Every time I see that guy, I like him less and less,” Keisha said. “You guys want anything? I’m gonna get a water.”
“Two shots. Whatever they’re pouring,” Jake said. Brooke looked over at him, surprised. Ordering a shot after he just told her to cool it? Maybe they were both for him, though, and he was finally going to loosen up and have some fun. She hoped so.
“I’ll be right back.” Happy to be helpful, Keisha darted off. Brooke let her gaze drift back over to Jake, who was eyeing Tryg. He had a strange look on his face.
“Can I ask you something?” Brooke asked.
Jake touched her hand and smiled. “Of course.”
“The night you came over to my house and had dinner with me and my mom, did you happen to go into my room?” She tried to make the question sound as benign as possible.
“What do you mean?” Jake sat up a little straighter.
“I think my mom moved my alarm clock and she says she didn’t do it and it’s no big deal, but I just want to know if she’s been going through my stuff without telling me. If you moved it, that means she didn’t. No one else was in the house, so . . .” Brooke’s voice trailed off. Did any of that make sense? She was afraid she was flipping words.
But then she saw something change in Jake’s eyes.
“You think I went snooping through your house?” She could tell he was irritated by the question. “Don’t you trust me?” Before Brooke could answer, Keisha returned with two shots of a red liquid in plastic shot glasses.
“I have no idea what it is, but it smells like cinnamon.”
Brooke took the shots and handed one to Jake. “Bottoms up!” Brooke sucked down her shot. Jake hesitated, watching her. Don’t feel guilty for asking him, she admonished herself silently. You have every right to know.
Only semi-aware she hadn’t answered his question, Brooke pointed her finger at the shot and said, “If you’re not going to do it, I will.”
“I think he’s right, B. Maybe you should slow down a little,” Keisha warned. Brooke made a silly, frightened face at her friend and glanced back at Jake. With a steely look in his eyes, Jake knocked back the shot and set the cup on the ground.
“Happy?”
“Actually, I am.” A weird moment passed between them.
Keisha must’ve felt it too because she rubbed Brooke’s back and said, “I’m going to go say hi to people. Nice seeing you again, Jake.”
“Likewise.” Once she was out of earshot, Jake whipped his head back around to Brooke.
“Why would you even ask me that? About your alarm clock?”
“Because I want to know who moved it.” Brooke’s voice was steady. The liquor was making her bolder and she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.
“No. I’d never touch anything of yours without asking. Your mom’s probably trying to cover her ass. You know how controlling she can be.”
“Controlling?”
“She’s not?” he chided. Brooke didn’t have an answer. Yes, her mother wanted to know about everything her daughter did, but Brooke didn’t like Jake
insulting her that way, especially after her mom had been so nice to him at dinner.
“You said it yourself,” he continued, “she questions everything you do. That’s why I couldn’t even pick you up for our first date.”
“I guess I’ll never know who moved my alarm clock, then.” Brooke tilted her beer can up, ready to finish it off, but Jake pulled the can out of her hand, causing her to spill a little on her jeans.
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“It means I don’t know the truth.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” he said. She tried to take her beer back, but he moved it out of her reach. “I don’t like you when you’re like this.”
“Like what?” Brooke spat back.
“You act different around these people. Getting wasted, accusing me of stuff, what the hell?”
He’d just done it again. Put her down. She wasn’t going to tolerate it a second time. Especially not tonight when she wanted to have fun.
Brooke abruptly stood and walked over to the bar, where she shoved her arm into the ice and pulled out another beer. If he was going to take that one, she’d just have to get a new one. She turned around and held up the can so he could see her pop it open. Then she took a nice, big swig. He was looking directly at her, so she was sure he saw. It was a bad idea letting him come to this party, she thought as she took another drink. He’s controlling. He’s critical. And deep down, she knew in her heart he’d just lied to her about being in her room without permission.
“Brooke, hey.” Brooke turned to see Tryg moving through the mass of bodies hovering around the bar. He stopped in front of her and smiled. Apparently, he hadn’t seen Jake. Or maybe he had and didn’t care.
“Tryg, hi.”
“I’m glad you’re here. Can we talk for a minute?”
“Talk? About what?” Brooke asked as she grabbed a shot from a passing tray. Tryg laughed, amused.
“We left things kinda weird when I saw you at the restaurant that night. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.” Wrong impression? What was he talking about? Was he really going to try to flip the script and pretend he wasn’t hoping to hook up with her behind Maddie’s back? Brooke had no interest in listening to Tryg’s lies.
“Where’s Maddie?” Brooke asked. She could hear her words were a little slurred.
“She’s talking to some girls inside.” Brooke wanted to give Tryg a piece of her mind and on the brink of inebriation, this seemed the right time to do it. She looked over at Jake, who was perched on the lounge chair staring at them. Screw him, she thought. He doesn’t want me talking to Tryg, but I can talk to anyone I want. If he wants to be with me, he better learn that fast. Brooke grabbed Tryg’s hand.
“Fine. Let’s talk.” She led him around the Jacuzzi and into the house, where they could have some privacy in the far corner of the kitchen.
“What is your problem?” she asked, stabbing her finger into his chest. “You don’t give two shits about Maddie or you wouldn’t have been trying to get with me at Wally’s. Why don’t you just leave her alone so she can find a real boyfriend?” Tryg stepped back, surprised by the verbal assault.
“I do care about Maddie. Just not like a girlfriend.”
“Then why do you keep going back to her?”
“I’ve been honest with her that I don’t want that kind of relationship. She keeps coming back to me.”
“That’s such a load of crap,” Brooke said, crossing her arms sloppily across her chest. “Because she’s in love with you. Every time you call her, it gives her hope that you two are gonna work out. Just cut ties and let her move on!”
“I’ll cut ties with her tonight if you say you’ll go out with me. I’ll end it with Maddie for good.” Brooke looked into his face, disgusted. The anger bubbled up inside her and she leaned in close.
“You are the shittiest person I’ve ever met. I hope someday, you fall in love, real love, with someone and then she does to you what you’re doing to Maddie because—”
“I knew it!” Maddie’s voice boomed from the doorway behind Brooke. Brooke spun around to see Maddie marching toward her. “You’re such a liar!”
“What?!” Brooke leaned back as Maddie got up in her face.
“I can’t believe I was going to give you another chance! You’re nothing but a backstabbing bitch!”
“Maddie!” Brooke wanted so badly to explain to her friend that she was in the middle of telling Tryg off, but she couldn’t seem to put the words together. “You should be mad at him, not me!”
“It takes two, Brooke! You know what?! You can have him! You’re perfect for each other! Fucked-up arm and fucked-up brain!”
The words cut into Brooke like knives.
“Fuck you!” she screamed with tears in her eyes as loud as she could. “I hate you! I hate you so much!” The booze and the rage and pain of feeling like damaged goods for the past year took over and it felt like a lion was being unleashed inside her. Her head was spinning, the room was spinning, and above all else, her life was spinning out of control. Through fuzzy vision she watched Maddie move off and felt a hand on her back.
“Brooke, hey. Come on. Let’s get away from all these losers.” It was Jake.
“They’re not losers!” she yelled, turning all of her frustration to Jake. “They’re my friends!” She didn’t want to leave and she didn’t want Jake telling her what to do. How had everything become so messed up? She just wanted all of this to be different.
“Some friends,” he spat back. “All that girl does is start fights with you and now everyone’s crowding around her like she’s some stupid damsel in distress.”
Brooke looked over at Maddie standing by the door. Jake was right. People were congregating around her, trying to comfort her. Tryg was among them. At least she thought so. It was hard to see clearly. “Let’s go.” He took her arm and started to pull her toward the hallway. As they stepped into the foyer, Brooke jerked her arm away.
“Stop it! You go! I’m staying here!” This was Jake’s plan all along, she told herself, even though her thoughts were coming to her slowly and not fully formed. From the start, he invited himself to this party and then tried to get her to bail on it. She was mad at him for that, and at herself for giving in and letting him come along, and also at her friends for being the jerks he claimed they were. She had no idea what she wanted in the moment. Staying was a terrible idea, but so was leaving. Right now, nothing was going to satisfy her. Brooke knew it—she was riled up and just wanted to fight.
“You’re wasted and have no clue what you’re saying. Listen to me. I know how to take care of a drunk girlfriend.”
“I’m not your girlfriend, Jake!” There. She said it. She was drowning and the best way to stay afloat was to cut away the dead weight. Jake was an anchor that needed to be cast off.
“Of course you are!” His image was fuzzy. She couldn’t make eye contact.
“You, my mom . . . everyone thinks they know what’s best for me. I know! I know what’s best for me and I don’t need you, okay?! I’m done. I don’t need this. I’m done!” She was repeating herself, slurring her words, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to argue with him anymore. She just wanted to collapse in a corner all by herself and cry.
“Brooke, come on. You’re being an idiot.”
“Now you’re gonna call me names? Just get the hell out, Jake. Out of Riley’s house. Out of my life. Out of the country for all I care!” She could feel him grab her arm once again, and when she tried to pull away, he didn’t let go. “I mean it! Don’t ever talk to me again.” She yanked away from his grasp and rushed up the stairs. She thought maybe he’d follow her but he didn’t. She ran down the hall and threw open one of the closed doors, stumbling into a guest room.
Brooke, sobbing uncontrollably, fell onto the bed and curled into a ball. Why did this keep happening? Why couldn’t things just go back to the way they were? She could barely form thoughts. I hate this! I hate my life! Clawin
g at the pillowcase, she silently cried until the room went black and she slipped into unconsciousness.
Brooke’s body felt heavy when she finally opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It was dark and hard to focus, and her head throbbed so badly it felt like there were needles in her brain. Where was she? Oh yeah, Riley’s house. The party. A fight happened between her and Maddie, but that’s all she could remember. Anything afterward had occurred too far into her inebriated state to recollect. There was an awful taste in her mouth and her entire body ached. On top of all that, her hands felt wet and sticky.
Wet and sticky?
Brooke lifted her head and looked down at her right hand. It was covered in blood. Blood? Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Brooke instantly forgot about her hangover as adrenaline shot through her veins. Why am I bleeding? Where am I bleeding?! She ran her hands over her torso, expecting to find a gaping hole but felt nothing. She wasn’t even in any pain.
Grabbing onto the bedpost, she pulled herself up into a sitting position and snapped on the lamp. She gazed down at her legs, half expecting one to be missing, and noticed a splotch of dark red blood on the other side of the bed. Brooke jumped up, unable to take her eyes off it. It was blood, right? Maybe someone at the party had played a joke on her. Maybe it wasn’t blood at all, but strawberry syrup or paint. She stared down at her hands. No, it’s definitely blood, she thought. That metallic smell of blood permeated the air.
Brooke gagged. She could feel the vomit rise up into her throat and forced it back down. She looked down at herself again. The blood wasn’t coming from her. Whose was it, then?
Slowly, Brooke stepped back, wanting to put distance between her and the blood-soaked bed. That’s when she noticed a knife on the floor next to the night table. Its long silver blade was coated in blood too. Horrified, Brooke knelt down and picked it up by its wooden handle. Her hand shook so bad, the knife fell from her grip onto the bed. Someone had been stabbed or cut, but who? Had someone else been in bed with her? What the fuck was going on?
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