“A couple times. With Lacey.” He touches my bare shoulder, his fingers trembling against my skin. “But it was nothing like this.”
As he leans in to kiss me, I realize it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Not who he’s been with or what he’s done or what I’ve done or if we’ll end up destroying each other. For the first time in a long time, I can’t see anything but what’s right in front of me.
I wake up just before dawn, thirsty and disoriented. Propping myself up on my elbows, I glance over at Ethan, who’s stretched out on his stomach beside me. I can barely make him out in the grayness of the room, but I can tell from his even breathing that he’s deeply asleep.
Heat floods my cheeks as images of last night push through the sleep-fog in my brain—the vodka shot, the cake, the New Year countdown, and then . . . this bed. That part of the night feels like a surreal blur, and I’d probably think I imagined it if it weren’t for the tenderness between my legs, assuring me it really happened.
I feel a twinge of regret. Before, we might have been able to go back to being just friends—or even walk away from each other entirely—if the Aubrey-shaped wedge between us ever became too big to manage. But there’s no going back after last night. Now our lives are tangled together even more.
I glance down at my body, naked underneath the covers. Too late for second-guessing now.
Ethan stirs and rolls toward me, his hand grazing my bare hip. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, even though my eyes are suddenly prickling with tears. Why am I so emotional all of a sudden? “I just . . . I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” he mumbles, and seconds later he’s breathing evenly again.
Quietly, I get up and feel around on the floor for some clothes. I grab the first thing my hand touches, which turns out to be Ethan’s Black Sabbath T-shirt, and pull it over my head as I leave the room.
In the bathroom, I gulp some water from the tap and then splash some on my face, avoiding my red eyes in the mirror. As I reach for a towel, my gaze catches on a yellow tube of lip balm on the counter next to the hand soap. It probably belongs to Mrs. McCrae, but Aubrey used to use the same kind.
A memory flashes through my mind. Aubrey and I, in this room, sitting side-by-side on the edge of the tub. Aubrey crying over Justin, wiping her tears with toilet paper because the Kleenex box is empty. Me with my arm around her, telling her she’s worth the hassle. Her in the hallway with Ethan, assuring him that she didn’t mean to yell. Both of us forgiving her instantly, knowing that even when she pushed us away, there was nothing either of us could do to make her stay mad at us forever.
I let go of the towel, my body growing cold despite the warm air pumping out of the vent by my feet. Maybe there is something I could do to make her that angry. Ethan was a willing participant these past few months, but it’s me she’d blame for crossing the line.
Aubrey would hate me for this.
I pause at the threshold of the bathroom, shivering and unsure what to do next. I’d told Ethan I’d be right back. My body aches for his warmth, for a few extra hours of sleep, but instead of turning left toward Ethan’s room, I veer right and head for Aubrey’s instead.
The door is closed. I push it open slowly, praying the hinges don’t squeak. They don’t. I slink inside and flip the light switch, squinting as the brightness hits my eyes. Right away, I can see it’s not Aubrey’s room anymore. Almost everything of hers is gone—laptop, books, makeup, the miniature violin I’d given her for her thirteenth birthday that always sat on her bookshelf. All gone.
I cross the room to her closet and ease open the door. Her clothes are gone too, probably packed up and given to Goodwill. Some other petite size two could be wearing her favorite navy blue sweater right now.
The only thing left of her in here is the bed, still covered in the same light purple comforter she owned since I met her. I lie down on it, running my hand over the familiar velvety fabric and trying to pick up her scent. But that’s gone too, faded away with time.
Despite how different the room looks, cleansed of any trace of her, I still feel like she’s in here somewhere. Watching me. Judging me for what I’ve done. Lying here on her bed, I can feel her disgust for me. And I don’t blame her. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of why I came back here—to remember my best friend the way she deserved to be remembered. Instead I got caught up in this crazy romance with Ethan, thinking that if he still wanted me after what I’d done, then maybe it was okay for me to want him too.
But wanting Ethan won’t help me. It just gives me one more thing to feel guilty about. Not only did I cause Aubrey to die . . . I had the nerve to fall in love with her little brother a year and a half later.
I had the nerve to feel happy.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the quiet room. “I’m sorry.”
It’s just beginning to get light when I slip back into Ethan’s room. He’s sound asleep again, but now he’s on his back, one hand resting on his chest and his head tilted slightly to the side. He looks different while sleeping, young and sweet and vulnerable, like the Ethan I knew before that day in June, when his life was altered forever. Because of me.
Bile rises in my throat. What am I doing here? What have I done?
As quietly as possible, I find my clothes and put them on, every so often checking to make sure I haven’t disturbed Ethan. He doesn’t even stir as I creep out of his room, and then out of his house. The snow has stopped, leaving behind a thick blanket of white. I walk home in the early morning cold, my head thumping like a heartbeat with each step.
twenty-six
Sophomore Year
“GOOD LUCK,” MOM SAID WHEN SHE DROPPED ME off at school for my biology exam.
I grabbed my backpack and climbed out of the car. The June sun beat down on the top of my head, already hot at eight thirty. It was going to be a gorgeous day. I breathed in the fresh morning air and felt the headache I’d woken up with that morning begin to subside. “Thanks.”
My bio exam, along with several others, was due to take place in the gym. I headed straight there and dropped off my backpack at the front of the room as was exam protocol. The gym was only about one-third full, so it didn’t take me long to spot Aubrey.
She sat in the middle of the second row of desks, back straight and eyes trained on the front of the room. I could tell from her stiff posture that she’d spotted me too, but was pretending she hadn’t. Looking away, I sat down on the opposite side of the room, my temples throbbing with fresh pain.
We hadn’t spoken to each other in over a week, since the day I told her about Justin. I’d considered going up to her a million times, but every time I saw her, I remembered all the hurtful things she’d said to me and changed my mind. I’d already apologized—now it was her turn. Ethan had revealed to me that Aubrey really missed me, and she wanted to work things out but was too embarrassed to make the first move. She was mad at herself for misjudging Justin so completely and mad at me too, for not telling her what he’d done right after it happened.
One good thing to come out of all this—she seemed to be officially done with Justin. I never saw them together, and the way he avoided my eyes whenever we passed in the halls only strengthened my suspicions. Either he’d grown balls and confessed, or Aubrey had finally accepted that the boy she loved wasn’t the person she’d thought.
Aubrey was one of the first to finish her exam. I watched as she rose from her seat and carried her booklet to the teacher at the front of the room. Mrs. Gimbal smiled at her like teachers always smile at smart, proficient students, and Aubrey went to dig out her backpack from the colorful pile by the door. Once she was gone, I tried to finish my essay on the various threats to ecosystems, but after a few minutes of crossing out sentences, I gave up and handed in my exam too. I’d done enough.
The first thing I saw when I emerged from the gym was Aubrey, standing by the trophy display case and talking to Ethan. They turned to look
at me, two sets of dark brown eyes burning into mine. Ethan seemed uncomfortable, and a hint of sadness flickered across Aubrey’s face before it went completely blank.
She turned back to her brother. “You coming?”
“No, I think I’ll stick around here for a couple of hours. A few people are getting together in the cafeteria to study for the math exam.”
“Okay. See you later, then.” She started backing away slowly, as if giving me time to put some distance between us before she followed me.
As I passed them, I saw Ethan glance at me and then nudge Aubrey’s arm. “Will you just go talk to her?” he said with an edge of impatience that told me it wasn’t the first time he’d said those words.
I paused for a moment with my back to them, waiting to hear her response. But there was nothing but silence, so I kept on walking.
She caught up to me on Dwyer Street, just a few yards from the entrance to the school. When she called my name, I paused and turned around, shading my eyes against the glare of the sun. She was sprinting toward me, her lacy white skirt swishing around her legs and her hair billowing out behind her.
“Hey,” she said, sounding more tired than mad. I felt my first glimmer of hope.
“Hi.” We fell into step beside each other on the sidewalk. I was already sweating through my shirt from the heat. Or maybe it was nerves.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
I bit my lip and stared down at the ground, focusing on the sound our flip-flops made on the pavement. Aubrey’s toenails, I noticed, were painted blue to match her top. “Okay.”
Her fingers went to work plaiting her hair. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry,” she said. “What happened with Justin . . . I should’ve believed you right away. None of it was your fault. I know that now, and I’m sorry.”
The knot that had taken over my stomach for the past few days began to loosen, and I let out a breath. “I’m sorry too. I should’ve told you right away instead of waiting around for Justin to do it. I was wrong.”
A car zoomed past on the street beside us, music blaring out of its open windows. Aubrey glanced up at it, her stride slowing to match mine. We didn’t speak for the next twenty-three steps. I counted.
“Justin’s a douchebag.”
Surprised, I looked over at her. She was gazing straight ahead, her pretty face twisted in disgust. It wasn’t directed at me, though. Not this time.
“Too bad it took me almost nine months to figure it out,” she went on. “I wasted the entire school year on him. Lied to my parents for him. Gave him so many second chances, I lost count. And that’s how he repays me? By going after my best friend?” She undid the braid and flicked her hair off her face. “I confronted him about it the day you told me. He tried to deny it at first, but I could tell he was lying. That made it even worse, you know? He didn’t even have the decency to come clean. He’s a liar and a douchebag.”
We turned onto the paved walking path and slowed even more, grateful for the shade of the trees. When we passed the yard with the tree house, my thoughts spun back to that cold day in November: Justin and me, our legs dangling into the air, the entire neighborhood stretched out before us.
“Yeah, he’s a douchebag,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the decaying boards. “But I’m no better, Aubrey. I liked him, you know, more than I should have. He was your boyfriend, and instead of feeling happy for you, I was jealous.”
She stopped walking and peered up at me. I slid my gaze to hers, expecting shock or anger or the same disgust she’d expressed toward Justin. But she just looked sad.
“I know that, Dara,” she said, and started walking again. Numbly, I followed suit. “I could tell you liked him the very first day, when he came up to us in the cafeteria after you hit Wyatt Greer with the tray. The way you looked at him . . . I’d never seen you act like that around a guy. I knew you were interested in him, but I let him flirt with me anyway.”
“Why?”
She glanced at me. “Because I was interested in him too. For once I wanted someone to look at me like I was fun and interesting, like people look at you. Then I realized he liked me and the rest just sort of happened. I assumed you’d be okay with it—you were always telling me I needed to live a little. But that was just me being selfish.” We stepped out of the shade and into the dazzling brightness of Fulham Road. “So I’m the one who’s ‘no better.’ Not you.”
I was silent for a moment, digesting this. All these months, she knew. She knew, and she never once gave me any clue or called me on it. It amazed me how much we’d held back from each other since Justin entered our lives.
“Then I guess we’re both horrible people,” I said, my voice almost cheerful. The glimmer of hope from before had turned into something brighter than the sun. “Either way, this year was mostly crap. I hate fighting with you.”
“I hate it too.” She shifted to the side, dodging an empty tomato sauce can that had escaped from someone’s trash. It looked like the crows had visited, ripping through the shiny black bags for the treasures within. “Truce?”
Something loosened in my chest and I smiled. “Truce.”
Behind us, the rhythmic sound of feet hitting pavement echoed through the air. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a woman jogging a few yards away, her ponytail bouncing against her shoulders. The street was so quiet, I could hear strains of the music blasting from her headphones.
“I wouldn’t say this year was mostly crap,” Aubrey said, her step lighter now that the tension between us had dissipated. “I made first chair in orchestra, got my license, and lost my virginity. All in all, not a total loss.”
“What about me?” I asked, looking over at her. “What have I accomplished this year?”
She pretended to seriously consider my question, but I saw a trace of laughter in her eyes. “Let’s see. Hmm . . . you got even taller?”
“Wow. So impressive.”
“And,” she said with a giggle in her voice, “you managed not to break your neck while doing incredibly dangerous dares, like walking across monkey bars in your bare feet in the dark. Now that’s talent.”
Laughing, I nudged her shoulder with mine. She nudged me back, her tiny body barely making an impact. Realizing this, she used her hands instead, pushing against my upper arm. And like I’d done countless times before—with her and everyone else—I pushed her back.
I pushed her back.
The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion. In other ways, they flashed by in a blink. One second, Aubrey and I were standing there together on the sidewalk, tussling like little kids, laughing and carefree. The next, her foot was tangled in the remnants of a ripped garbage bag and she was tumbling backward toward the street, eyes widening as she realized she was falling.
She was falling so fast and so unexpected that by the time it actually sunk in—this nightmare in front of me—it was too late. All I could do was watch. Watch her tiny body land in the direct path of a large gray pickup truck that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Watch the truck’s right front wheel roll over her chest, pinning her underneath for a moment before continuing to the pavement on the other side of her.
I started screaming.
Everything after that happened in fragments, brief flashes of sound and color and awareness:
A woman dressed in running clothes, her ponytail brushing my neck as she held me close and murmured, “Don’t look, honey. Don’t look.”
A man in a red baseball cap, kneeling with his back to me on the sidewalk, his body quaking with guttural moans that sounded almost primal. “I didn’t see her. I didn’t even see her,” he repeated, over and over, his hands pressed to his head like he was trying to squeeze the images back out.
Aubrey’s foot, bare and resting against the curb, and the random, nonsensical thought that popped into my head when I saw it. What happened to her flip-flop?
A voice, talking into a cell phone. Please, please, come quick.
Blood, so much blood
, staining the asphalt, soaking into Aubrey’s white skirt, spreading up toward the top half of her body, which I couldn’t bear to see.
Sirens, loud and close.
Me, crumpled on the grass in someone’s front yard, my eyes never straying from Aubrey no matter how hard people tried to get me to look away.
And then the sound of my screams, fading into heavy, shocked silence when I realized what I’d done.
twenty-seven
Senior Year
ON THE FIRST DAY BACK TO SCHOOL AFTER BREAK, I know before I even open the door that Ethan will be waiting for me at the front entrance. I also know what his face will look like—concerned with a hint of irritation simmering underneath.
I’m right on both counts.
“What the hell, Dara?” he says when I stop in front of him. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all weekend.”
I start walking again, willing myself not to cry. He falls into step beside me, and I can feel the frustration radiating off him, a pot of boiling water about to spill over. I can’t blame him. I walked out of his house Friday morning without so much as a note, and aside from one brief text letting him know I was alive, we haven’t spoken since. I’ve been avoiding his texts and calls, even though it kills me to shut him out like this.
“I had a headache,” I mumble, my eyes on my feet as I climb the stairs.
“For three days?” He reaches the top of the staircase first, then turns to face me. “For three days, you couldn’t pick up your phone and answer a text? You had me going crazy, you know. I almost went over to your house, but I thought maybe you got in trouble with your parents and they grounded you or something.”
I pause on the second stair from the top, my knuckles white on the railing. It would be so easy to use that as an excuse, to tell him my parents grounded me and took away my phone, but they hadn’t. I’d done everything possible to make it seem like I rang in the New Year alone—answered every check-in text they sent, forwarded the landline to my cell in case they called the house, kept the lights on for the nosy neighbors. My parents are blissfully unaware of what happened that night.
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