I snort out a laugh. I can’t help it. “That’s the best description of Edgewater I’ve ever heard.”
Mila smirks. “Should we call the tourism board?” She reaches the peak in her swing and jumps forward, sailing through the air, until she lands on her feet in the gravel. Mila turns around and looks at me, hands on her hips. “Things could be worse, I guess.”
A silence extends between us and then an English teacher I vaguely recognize comes onto the terrace and clears his throat. “Time to head out, girls.”
Mila rolls her eyes but heads toward the door. I follow her into the gym, where we lose each other in the dark mess of limbs and formalwear. I know I could search for her so we could stick together for the rest of the night, whispering about everyone else behind cupped hands. But something stops me. She’s my competition and I don’t know how much I can actually trust her. I’ve always thought friends were overrated, stones to weigh you down. Why make one now? So I walk to the door, where the cross country bus is waiting outside.
“After-party at Bader’s!” someone yells, and a sea of bodies pushes me onto the bus, toward the back, where all I can do is watch everyone else file on.
As the bus starts to pull out of the parking lot, the music throbs in my ears and almost everyone stands up on the benches to dance. Noah’s sitting in the corner, legs splayed, while Tamara curls up next to him, laughing into his chest.
It’s all too gross, too much, too showy. I lean back against the window, letting the hum of the drive calm me, but then I hear my sister’s voice loud above the noise.
“You fucking scumbag!” she screams. I lean forward on the bench to find Ellie standing in front of Noah and Tamara. Her hair is wild and messy, and her eyes are full of rage. Her fists are clenched by her sides and she’s lurching toward them. “You piece of shit. You liar!”
“What’s going on?” someone asks next to me.
“Baby Steckler’s going Stella on us,” a sophomore mutters.
I roll my eyes. “Come up with something more original, loser.”
“Ellie, chill out,” Noah says, pushing himself to stand.
“Chill out? Chill out?! Have you lost your mind?” Ellie screams. Around me, phones start to come out. The bright screens cast a spotlight on them.
“You’re losing it,” Noah says. “You don’t want to do this.”
Ellie steps closer so she’s inches from Noah’s face. “I could break you, Noah. I could destroy you. Just fucking try me.”
Their words make no sense, and Ellie’s on fire tonight. I know I should stop her, but I remember what Coach said. Keep your head down. Stay out of trouble. I peer out the window and we’re almost home. How much damage could she really do in another minute?
“Sounds like Ellie’s had a little too much to drink tonight.” Noah laughs but the noise comes out like something fake and almost scared.
Ellie crosses her arms. “You’re lying,” she hisses. “You’re a coward and a liar.”
Noah’s demeanor changes and he takes a step toward her, his back hunched just a bit, like he’s ready to pounce. “Lay off, Baby Steckler.” He turns his chin up and looks at her in disgust.
Ellie’s eyes go wide and she recoils, like she’s been slapped. Her mouth drops open and secondhand embarrassment bubbles in my stomach. Back off, I tell her in my head. But I know she won’t. Because I wouldn’t either.
Tamara stands, tugging her dress down. “Ellie, we all know you miss Bethany. But come on,” she says, with some tenderness. “This is ridiculous.”
That’s all it takes for Ellie to lunge straight toward Noah, knocking him to the ground. Tamara yelps and jumps to the side. Her tiara falls to the floor and cracks right in half.
I leap from my seat and try to make it to Ellie, to pry her off him, to stop her from becoming just like me. But she’s already there, and there are too many people in my way, shining bright lights on them.
“Fight, fight, fight!” the team calls out.
The bus pulls to a halt in front of the after-party and everyone lurches backward, so we’re a pile of hair and heels and ballerina fabric. I fall straight forward into some sophomore’s sweat-soaked dress shirt and push him off, scrambling to my feet. When I finally stand, I see the damage.
Ellie sits on the floor of the bus, dazed and red-faced. Tamara is off to the side, shocked as Noah holds her to his chest. The rest of the team files off the bus, making their way to Bader’s front door, where they’re hoping another party foul takes form. Ellie’s breakdown is just another moment to be documented, to laugh at. I try to make my way to her, but the crowd pushes me farther and farther off the bus. My throat is scratchy and I know I should push harder, force myself to get to Ellie, to comfort my sister, but I’m suddenly so tired, so over the drama. I just want to go home.
Noah steps off the bus, shoving my shoulder as he walks Tamara into the party, and I see only Mila left, kneeling down next to Ellie. She wraps her in her arms and rocks back and forth as my sister cries.
9
ELLIE
Monday morning, two days after the party, I still can’t bear to look at my phone. It buzzes and hums with chatter from the cross country group thread about after-school practice and next week’s meet. But there are digs. There are always digs. And this time they’re saying that Ellie Steckler is just as crazy as her sister. I hate that word. How the boys deploy it like a bomb, hoping to blow up your confidence, or make you doubt yourself.
CRAZY RUNS IN THE FAM!! some asshole sophomore texted. He followed it up with a blurry photo of me, hair tangled, eyeliner running. My dress riding too high up on my thighs, pointing at Noah as if my finger were a sword. No one could see what happened after, how Mila stayed with me while I cried, even after we got kicked off the bus. How she bent over and touched her fingers to my knee and said, “Hey, you okay?”
“No,” I said, spitting out the word in a wet mess of mucus and tears. The story came out quickly after that, in fits and starts, and I told her the real reason why I had finally broken in front of everyone, why nothing made sense and my heart was full of rage. Mila didn’t say a word at first but her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open just slightly. When she spoke, she said softly, “I won’t tell.”
But now she knows the truth. She’s the only one besides Noah and I barely know her. My stomach sinks. What have I done?
Stella knocks softly on my door. “Want a ride?” She pushes it open and leans against the doorframe. Wearing head-to-toe track warm-ups and her slicked-back bun, she looks as she always does. Completely unaltered by the worst weekend of my life. I’m jealous.
“Yeah,” I say.
She pulls her hand from behind her back and reveals a green smoothie in a to-go cup. “Figured you could use this.”
“Aw, Stell.” I take the cup from her and my chest fills with gratitude.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too used to it,” she says, taking a sip from her own smoothie. “School’s gonna suck for you today. But school sucks for me every day, so just deal with it.”
“Helpful.”
* * *
—
I make it through my morning classes without incident; thank god I don’t have chemistry with Noah today. But when I get to lunch, I know I have to suck it up and try to make nice at the cross country table if I want to get through this year with some sort of dignity left. I take my time working the caf line, pulling down a veggie sandwich and an apple. After I pay, I survey the room. Off in the corner, I see Noah holding court, his sandy hair falling perfectly over his forehead, and Tamara looking up at him, smiling.
But to their right, I see Julia and Mila huddled together. Raven sits across the table, leaning so far toward, she’s almost in her lunch.
Something fizzles in my stomach and I wonder if Mila’s already betrayed me, if she spilled my secret the first chance she got. I walk past th
em, holding my breath.
“Mila, you have to come with us to the drive-in on Saturday,” Julia says, clasping her hands. “They’re showing the old A Star Is Born. The one with Judy Garland. We always sneak in wine and eat fancy licorice, and it’s just the best.”
Raven nods eagerly across the table. “The last time—”
But Julia cuts her off. “What are you gonna say, Rave? That you fell asleep because you drank too much rosé? That you snored so much we had to cover your face with a pillow? Yeah, we know. This one can’t hold her shit.”
Raven’s cheeks go crimson and she looks down at her sandwich.
“But you have to come, Mila,” Julia says, wiggling a finger in her direction.
“Maybe,” Mila says, and Julia’s face falls just slightly.
I make it to the end of the table and slide into a seat, waiting for someone to kick me out and expel me from the team for good. But no one does.
A metal chair leg scrapes against the floor and I turn to see Mila pushing herself to stand.
“Where are you going?” Julia asks, irritated.
“Over there,” Mila says, nodding my way.
Please don’t cause a scene. Please just stay put.
Julia curls her mouth in disgust. “Your funeral.”
Mila plops down across from me and sets her tray down on the table.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say.
“Oh, please,” Mila says. “Julia’s the worst. It’s like she was trying to make Raven jealous of me or something. She reminds me of the girls I was friends with in Connecticut. Well, ex-friends. My crew there was pretty superficial and rude, to be honest. But you know how sometimes you’re just friends with people for so long you can’t see what they’re actually like? The only reason I miss that place at all is my best friend, Naomi. She’s the coolest. She started the LGBTQ+ alliance at Hadbury High and is this badass Model UN star and . . .” Mila looks up, as if she’s surprised to see I’m sitting there. “Wow, I’m just going on and on, huh?”
I want to ask her if she told my secret, if she’s playing me now. But I force a smile. “I miss my best friend, Bethany, too,” I say. “She moved last year. But we kinda had a falling-out.”
Mila winces. “That sucks, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have Naomi to FaceTime with every day.”
I shrug, not wanting to talk about it anymore.
Mila is quiet for a beat, but then she leans in and locks eyes with me. She lowers her voice. “You know, I wanted to tell you something.”
My stomach drops as her expression turns serious. Is this the moment when she admits her judgment? When she starts seeing me differently? A ball of shame forms in my throat.
“Tamara offered me a job at Ellacoya,” she says, tucking a piece of long dark hair behind her ear. “Hostess at the restaurant. I just wanted to let you know I’m gonna take it.”
My head starts to spin. Does this mean she’s now loyal to Tamara? That she’s going to tell her my secret? I still can’t believe I let it slip—the one thing I swore I would never tell anyone, not even Stella. So, this is how it will all unravel.
But as if she reads my mind, Mila says, “I just wanted to let you know because I’m not going to tell her anything. I’m not going to tell anyone anything.”
She pauses and waits for me to say something but I don’t because my mouth is dry and sandy and no words come.
“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it,” Mila says, calm and quiet. It’s as if she’s been in this situation before, as if people just tell her deep, dark secrets and she’s totally okay with holding on to them. “But I’m here if you change your mind.”
I can’t listen to this anymore. I wrap the rest of my sandwich up in parchment paper and push my chair away from the table. It makes a loud screech against the linoleum floor and I wince. “I gotta go,” I say. “Let’s just pretend it never happened.”
Mila looks at me with a small, kind smile. “Okay, Ellie.”
I turn away from her and rush out of the cafeteria. All I can think about is making it to the bathroom in time. I push through the heavy double doors and head down the stairs and into the bathrooms in the basement, where the stalls are wide and empty, where you can easily hide. I shove my shoulder against the far door and throw myself inside, falling to my knees. I try to catch my breath, but the chokes come out shallow and rough, and suddenly I’m gasping for air. The metal walls are caving in on me and I wrap my arms around the cool ceramic toilet for support. I try to breathe evenly. It’s useless, though, as my chest tightens and my vision grows spotty. My ribs press in on me and I know for certain this is what it feels like to die. This is temporary, I try to remember. This will pass.
It’s happened before, the panic attacks. Once after the pee stick came out positive over the summer. And then another a few days later, when I finally got the courage to tell Noah that I missed a period, that I had taken a test and knew what I wanted to do.
We were closing down the lake for the day, tossing soda cans into the recycling and locking our floats inside the small supply shack. I was headed for the door when Noah pulled me to him and pressed his lips to my neck. But before his mouth found mine, I cleared my throat. “I’m pregnant,” I said. It came out as a whisper.
Noah froze, speechless, and I untangled myself from him, taking a step back. I searched his face, to read him, but there was nothing there.
“Fuck,” he finally said, his voice louder than I’d ever heard. He balled his hands into fists and started pacing the small wooden shack.
I clasped my hands together to try to stop them from shaking. I wanted to tell him I had a plan. I had already found a clinic in Newburgh and it was still early enough that I could get a medication abortion. It was only two pills. Our parents didn’t have to know. No one did.
But before I could speak, Noah pulled his arm back and slammed his fist through the wall, leaving a hole where there had once been wood. A cracking sound ripped through the air.
“Noah!” I shrieked. I didn’t know whether to run to him and apply pressure to his now-bleeding hand, or to throw my arms up and protect myself.
Noah stared at his fist as blood poured from his knuckles, like he couldn’t believe what he had done either. His eyes were wide and menacing, and he looked like someone I didn’t recognize, someone I was scared of. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice small. Then he looked at me, fear in his eyes. “This will ruin me, my future, everything I’ve worked for,” he said. “You have to take care of this, you know that, right? I’ll pay for it. I’ll do anything.”
He was right. I knew that much. I just wanted it all to go away. I wanted to please him. I wanted a future. I made the appointment for the following week.
Noah picked me up early in the morning and we drove the hour to Newburgh in silence. All I could think about was how grateful I was that we lived in New York, where getting an abortion at sixteen years old without telling your parents was something you could actually do. Noah walked me in and sat in the waiting room, a Charles Bukowski book open in his lap, while I met with the doctor.
He had kind eyes that remained free of judgment as I told him why I was there. He told me I could look away during the ultrasound and he made small talk about the weather and how few mosquitos there were for the season. I took the first pill right there with him and he handed me the second to take a few hours later.
“We recommend you not be alone when you take that,” the doctor said. “That’s when the embryo will pass through you. It can be painful, take a few hours. You will bleed. It’s kind of like having a really crappy period. He’ll be there?” The doctor nodded to the waiting room.
“Sure,” I said, but knew there was no way I would ask Noah to stay with me like that. I knew what he would say.
“Good,” the doctor said and took another look at my
chart in front of him. “You’re from Edgewater, huh?”
I nodded.
“Things seem better there now, don’t they?”
“No one’s been found dead recently, if that’s what you mean.”
His mouth formed a small frown. “The Williamses are good friends of mine,” he said. “Those cops over there . . . When Marlisse was found . . .” He shook his head as if he didn’t have the words. “I shouldn’t say anything. Just glad everything’s settled down, that’s all. Girls shouldn’t have to worry about going on runs or exploring their own town on their own. No one should.” He looked me in the eye and patted my hand gently. “You go and have a good summer, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”
I hoped he was right.
When I came back out, Noah stood and wiped his hands on his shorts. “You okay?” he asked. I nodded and waited for him to ask me what happened in the exam room, if I needed anything. But he didn’t. Noah just smiled, relieved that we had taken care of everything, that no one would ever know and we could pretend like it had never happened. We stopped for ice cream on the way home, ate our cones on the hood of his car, and said goodbye once we got to my driveway.
The doctor was right, though. Later that night, as I sat on the toilet doubled over in pain and trying not to cry, I wished I weren’t alone. I clasped my phone with a shaking hand and called Bethany over and over, willing her to pick up so I could tell her what happened. I wanted her to calm me down and reassure me that everything was going to be okay. But she never answered.
I bit my lip hard as the medication worked its way through me and I wondered what Stella would do if she were home and not hours away at Camp Breakbridge. Stella. My protector. My competition. I pictured her having a neutral, robotic response to it all, bringing me a cold compress, a clean T-shirt, and a green juice. And for some reason, that soothed me. I heard Stella’s matter-of-fact voice in my head, the one she used to talk to me during the Dark Years. You and me forever, Ellie. You and me forever.
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