by Rebecca Sky
‘Shouldn’t you go check on your friend?’ Ben asks.
‘She’s fine.’ Marissa doesn’t even try to hide the scorn from her voice.
‘Didn’t look that way to me,’ Ben says.
Marissa sighs. ‘I’ll go.’
Not wanting her to find me just yet, I rush from my spot behind the door and outside into the garden, for some fresh air.
From where I’m hiding on my perch on the swings, I watch Marissa push open the side door with her hip, carrying a tray of ice tea and cookies. She takes slow, careful steps, making sure her heels don’t sink into the dirt, and stopping every time the tea splashes over the rim.
‘Here.’ She sets the tray on a tree stump and holds out a glass.
‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the drink, the cold sending a shiver through my palm. ‘Where’s Ben?’
‘I told your dad to make sure he stays in sight. I said it was important for your safety.’ She sits on the empty swing beside mine with an air of romance, and rocks in circles. ‘Is everything OK with you?’ Marissa’s eyes dart longingly towards the garage.
My first instinct is to tell her I’m fine, and to pretend that I am. My mind replays my new Joan of Arc mantra – fighter, fighter, fighter. But I’m not fine. Not that she really cares how I feel. All along I’ve put up with her attitude problem because I understood it comes from a place of brokenness, and I guess I hoped that at the heart of it she cared for me, like I do her – in a sisters type of way. When she picked me to be her accountability partner, I was so happy. It felt like things were different from my elementary school days where being half Indian meant getting chosen last or always being grouped with other biracial kids. My classmates didn’t even know my heritage. Most of them thought I was a Pacific Islander because of the freckles and wild waves I got from my dad. I should have known when I was picked first by a popular girl it wasn’t because of me. I was just a notch on Marissa’s Hedoness belt. Just like now – she only pretends to care because someone asked her to.
‘Rach?’ She waves her hand in front of my face. ‘You’re doing that thing where you stare cross-eyed into space.’
‘You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.’
‘Try me,’ she half-heartedly replies.
I take a deep breath. ‘I’m wondering if we’re really friends, or if the last three years was only because you were told to pick me.’
‘Woah.’ Marissa’s forced smile drops. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously.’
‘OK. Well, at first it was because they asked me to be your friend. I mean look at us, we wouldn’t normally travel in the same social circles.’
I set my glass down and kick at the dirt.
She sighs, ‘But of course we’re friends,’ and nudges my side. ‘You’re the only one who puts up with me.’
I glance at her, taking in her blue eyes, almost the same shade as Eros’s in the painting. She looks so much more like him than I do, it’s easy to make their connection. And right now those blue eyes are the most genuine I’ve ever seen them, almost pleading with me to believe her. Knowing that she actually cares brings a small sense of relief.
Marissa pushes her swing closer. ‘I’d be your friend even if you painted on your eyebrows, and you know how I am about eyebrows.’
I laugh.
‘What’s going on in that head of yours?’ she asks.
‘I guess … I’m having a hard time adjusting to everything. I met my aunt and I have a cousin who I didn’t know about until just now. My ma’s in jail having god knows what done to her. And that’s not even all of it …’ I clear my throat, taking a deep breath, trying to decide how honest I’m going to be. ‘I’m starting to realize there are things I want that will never happen.’ It’s the closest to the truth I can give. The truth is – for some stupid reason I’m attracted to Ben and it’s hard to see the connection he shares with her.
‘Don’t I know it!’ Marissa whistles through her teeth.
‘Oh please. You could have anything you want.’
She stops swinging. ‘Not really.’
‘What do you mean?’ Then I remember her ma. All these years I’ve known Marissa I’ve only met her mother once. She spends most of her time away, living out some mid-life crisis, flirting and turning men instead of being here with her daughter.
Marissa smooths her hair over her shoulders. ‘I mean, we can’t really have love, can we? I know I always bug you about the true love stuff. But lately I’ve been thinking …’
This isn’t about her mother. ‘Ben?’ I ask.
Marissa blushes.
And my heart sinks all over again.
The loud rumble of an engine pulling into the driveway causes me to jump up and run to the front of the house.
‘Where are you going?’ Marissa calls after.
‘To meet my cousin.’
I swing open the side gate and skid to a stop before a dark red truck with raised tyres. The driver’s door opens and a tall, muscular guy hops out wearing a baseball uniform. U nlike Joyce, Kyle looks like he could be my family and that makes me smile. We both have brown skin and black hair, though the tips of his hair are dyed the same bleached blonde as Joyce’s. Kyle doesn’t notice me, instead he puts on his hat and walks to the back of the truck and grabs his bag out of the truck-bed. It looks like it weighs fifty pounds, but he effortlessly slides the large sack over his shoulder.
He starts for the house and then he finally sees me.
‘Oh, hey there.’ He flashes a perfect white smile, his dark brown eyes glistening with mischief. ‘Can I help you?’
I blush, realizing I’m staring at Kyle the same way Marissa stares at Ben. ‘Oh, uh. Are you Kyle?’
His expression changes. ‘Yeah, that’s me. Listen, if you were put up to this, I appreciate you coming, but I’m not interested in dating—’
My nervous laugh cuts him off. ‘No – it’s not that. I think I’m your cousin.’
‘Cousin? You must be Rachel!’ He winks. ‘I was surprised when my mom told me you were visiting out of the blue. After all these years. You on the run from something? Or finally felt it time to meet the fam?’
‘On the run? No … I, we—’
He smiles. ‘Whatever the reason, it’s nice to finally meet you.’
There’s a rustling from behind and I turn to see Marissa push her way through the gate. She dusts off her skirt, pausing when she sees Kyle.
‘Woah.’
‘Marissa, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is my friend Marissa.’
He tips his hat. ‘A pleasure.’
Marissa giggles.
It doesn’t seem to faze him any. But my guess is he has no shortage of female attention. He smiles and walks past, into the house, leaving us staring after him.
‘I hate to see him go,’ Marissa says. ‘But damn, I love watching him leave.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, OK.’
‘OK? He’s more than OK. He’s hot. Like sexy hot.’
A laugh-snort fusion escapes my throat as I shake my head at Marissa. ‘Come on,’ I say as I head back into the house.
Marissa follows, a little too eagerly. ‘I’ll go wherever he goes.’
‘Bunk beds are ready to go!’
Marissa, Joyce and I turn from where we’re sitting at the dining-table to see Ben and Dad stumble in from the garage. They enter the kitchen covered in wood dust and sweat.
‘That was fast.’ Joyce smiles. ‘Want some sweet tea while you wait to meet my Kyle?’ She holds up a frosted pitcher.
‘That would be nice, thanks.’ Ben sidesteps Marissa and grabs a glass. Dad takes the last empty seat at the far side of the table, so Ben heads to the couch in the adjacent room.
Before Marissa can hop up and join Ben, the door to the bathroom opens, sending out a cloud of steam. Kyle, with only a towel wrapped around his waist, strolls into the hall. His wet hair hangs around his face, perfectly framing his sharp jaw and broad shoulders. Water droplets cause his skin to glis
ten. Marissa and I can’t help but let a gasp escape our lips as he walks into the kitchen. Me out of shock and her out of intrigue.
‘Hey, Mom.’
‘Kyle? What in the … go put some clothes on.’
He flashes her a grin, then turns his attention to my dad sitting quietly in the corner and extends his hand. ‘And you must be my uncle.’
Dad looks at his hand but doesn’t take it. ‘Hi,’ he says.
Kyle grins, though openly confused by my father, and kisses his mother’s cheek before turning to Marissa and me. When he sees Ben sitting in the other room, he stops and smiles, raising his hand in greeting. ‘Hey, man, I’m Kyle. You are?’
‘Ben, nice to meet you.’ Ben nods, returning his attention to some paper he pulled off the counter.
‘And you are someone’s boyfriend?’
‘He’s a friend,’ I say, before Marissa or Ben answer with something that shouldn’t be said.
‘Ah, cool.’ Kyle looks me over, head to toe. I fidget under his confident gaze. Where Ben has this relaxed confidence, Kyle has a bold one, and he’s almost predatory with it.
‘Our family is too good-looking,’ he says.
Marissa’s smile drops, and she runs a finger over her eyebrows in such an offhanded way, I’m not even sure she realizes she did it. ‘You’re hitting on your cousin?’
Kyle smirks. ‘I’m not hitting on her. Merely telling the truth. And it wouldn’t matter anyway because we’re not blood relatives.’
Ben raises his gaze from the paper.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘Joyce adopted me. I was born in the Philippines.’ He winks at Ben and saunters away, his towel riding lower with every step.
Marissa sulks off to the room we’re sharing. I get up from the table and slump on the couch beside him.
‘Big day,’ he says, folding the paper.
‘Weird day.’ I smile, turning to him, swallowing when my eyes lock on his. There’s a certain intensity he has whenever he takes me in. Like he’s studying, analyzing, trying to read my brain. It’s intimidating, mysterious, and I wish I knew what he was thinking.
Ben undoes and refolds the paper. ‘He’s right about you, you know?’
I struggle to breathe. ‘What?’
He smiles and rests his arm on the top of the couch. My hair falls over his hand and he flicks the ends of my ponytail.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say, sitting forward.
He smiles. ‘Nothing to apologize for. I like your curls.’
My whole body stiffens, and my cheeks heat up.
‘You all right?’ he asks
‘I’m just …’ I stop. Ben smiles and leans towards me. I’m suddenly very aware of our proximity. Even the hairs on my arm stand alert.
‘You have freckles,’ he says, staring at my nose. ‘They’re cute,’ he finishes, flopping back into the couch.
I don’t respond. Instead I cross my arms to keep from rubbing the fire from my nose, and I tap my foot at the air.
‘You’re not used to getting compliments, are you?’
His eyes tunnel into me, watching, analyzing. He’ll make an excellent cop one day. Those eyes pierce straight to my soul. Everything in me wants to tell him the truth, all of it, just so he’ll stop looking at me.
‘No, not with a best friend like Marissa around … which suits me just fine.’
He laughs. ‘She’s beautiful, but so are you.’
Marissa spends two hours getting ready to go out. I swear she carries a whole cosmetic store in that gold bag. A good fifteen of those minutes were spent pencilling in her eyebrows, and from minutes eight to fifteen they looked the exact same to me. Now her hair’s perfectly curled, her make-up precisely layered, and her outfit’s meticulously pressed and worn in such a way that makes it seem like she just walked out of a store display. My clothes didn’t even look that good on the mannequins.
Marissa twirls back and forth in front of the mirror before returning to the pile of clothes she’s dumped out of my backpack. ‘I could wear this instead.’ She holds a white T-shirt up to her body, checking how it looks with her pleated skirt.
Where’s Joan of Arc and her trusty sword when I need to stab someone? ‘For the last time, Marissa, you look perfect.’ I exhale noisily and check my chat thread to see if there’s any updates from Paisley’s ma. She hasn’t replied yet, which worries me.
‘It’s not like I have better clothing options.’ Marissa spins one last time, taking herself in. ‘It’s the best I can do, given my situation.’
It’s another dig at my clothes. Her passive-aggressive levels are at an all-time high. Which is a little disappointing – I thought we’d shared a moment outside earlier, but she seems to have already forgotten. And right now, I really can’t deal with any more drama.
A notification pings and I check to find a message from Mother Superior requesting Marissa and I follow Committee instructions and head to Athens at once. Just as I’m about to close it, I notice a list of suggested accounts to follow. One of them is someone named Sur render2Love, with a profile picture of a human heart and arrows crossing through it.
Suddenly I hear Ma’s words from earlier in my head – If you surrender to love, Eros will find you.
It couldn’t be … could it?
My curiosity drives me to send a request. They accept immediately. My heart races as I open the chat and click the message box.
ME: Hello?
The chat bar shows someone’s typing a response. I pull my knees tighter to my chest and fixate on the screen.
S2L: Hello, love.
ME: Who is this?
S2L: You know who.
If there’s any chance this is actually Eros, I need to know. He could help my ma.
ME: I was hoping you could help me.
S2L: Is this about your mom?
My hands shake, I nearly drop my phone. I glance up at Marissa to find her applying another coat of mascara. She’s not watching me.
ME: If you are who I think, can you help me save her?
S2L: You don’t need me for that. Try embracing your gift.
If Marissa wasn’t standing right next to me, I’d think this was some sick prank she’s playing. But she is, so that leaves who? Mother Superior? One of my teachers? I’m furious – did they just get my hopes up as a ruse to get me on Team Hedoness? I’m also mad at myself for being desperate enough to believe that the god of love would actually accept a friend request from me.
ME: Whoever this is, it isn’t funny. And you know what? I’m not interested in being a Hedoness. As far as I see it, it’s the cause not the cure. I’m sick of being bossed around by Eros and his stupid arrow curse. Because of him my ma’s in jail and I’ve lost my home.
S2L: Maybe it’s time you stop complaining about Eros and follow your own damn arrow.
ME: Huh?
S2L: Bye for now, love.
‘Rach?’
‘What?’ I look up to find Marissa glaring at me.
‘You ready?’
I glance down at my screen – S2L is now offline. I sigh, slip my phone in my back pocket. ‘I’ve been ready for the last hour and forty-seven minutes.’
Marissa rolls her eyes and grabs my hand, pulling me from the bed. ‘You’re not seriously wearing that, are you?’
I look over my Converse, knee-high black socks, cut-off jean shorts, white Wonder Woman T-shirt and a long black cardigan. It’s my staple going out outfit. ‘Looks like I’m wearing it.’
Marissa crinkles her nose. ‘Can I at least do your hair? I hate how you always wear ponytails.’
‘Nope.’
‘Oh come on, no one is that dedicated to ponytails.’
I cross my arms and glare.
‘What about your eyebrows?’ She reaches for them and I bat her hand away.
She rolls her eyes and grabs her gold purse, digging through it for cherry-red lip gloss. After applying two coats, she heads out the door, leaving me in her shadow.
I follow her into the living room, where Ben and Kyle stand awkwardly with their hands in their pockets looking like they’ve run out of things to talk about. Ben looks so out of place in the smiley pizza sweatshirt next to Kyle in a leather jacket. He sees me grinning at his sweatshirt and gives himself a once-over before turning to Kyle and looking him up and down.
‘Dude, I can lend you a jacket,’ Kyle says.
‘It’s all good.’ Ben takes the sweatshirt off, flips it inside out and puts it back on.
‘Somehow that’s better,’ Marissa says.
Joyce sits at the kitchen table pretending not to watch the whole exchange. I feel like those girls in the TV shows, the ones like My Vampire Alien Life, where they get dressed up and go on dates with guys who are too hot to be real. For a moment I forget about Ma, then the fear and worry come rushing back, this time with a side of guilt. It’s hard to pretend everything’s OK, no matter how much I want it to be.
Ma’s words flit through my mind, Your happiness is more important to me than my own, and something about that memory makes it feel right to go. She wouldn’t want me moping when there’s nothing I can do for her right now, anyway. She’d want me to get to know my cousin. I check my phone again just in case. Paisley’s still offline. I slip it in my back pocket and am just about to head out the door with the boys when Dad blocks my path.
‘Rachel, you can’t leave me. I have to keep you safe.’
I point at Kyle and Ben, both of whom are quite a bit bigger than Dad. ‘They’re going to make sure I’m safe. And if they don’t, I have Marissa.’ Truth is Marissa can do more damage than either of the boys could.
‘Your ma wouldn’t want this.’
‘Ma said it’s fine.’ It’s a white lie, she never said it, but my imagined version of her did.
‘OK,’ Dad says. ‘I just miss your ma so much.’
‘I know, Dad.’ Me too.
‘Be safe,’ he says again.
‘We’ll be fine,’ I say, squeezing his hand before following Marissa and the boys.
Kyle offers me his arm and that TV-show-girl feeling returns.