We shuffle back along our row as my knees continue to sting. I brush past Dad as quickly as I can, keeping my head down and refusing to look at him, and then almost run past Jamie and Chase until I collapse into the safety of my own seat at the opposite end from Dad.
“Where’s my beer?” I hear him ask as Mom sits down next to him with the tray of hot dogs. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, and he’s furrowing his eyebrows at her.
“Oh,” Mom breathes, rolling her eyes, “Tyler had a little fall. I’ll grab you another later. Here, hold this.” She pushes the tray onto Dad’s lap and opens up her purse, searching for band-aids.
Slowly, Dad’s gaze moves to me. His eyes meet mine and I freeze under their power, rooted to my seat, unable to breathe. He presses his lips together. His jaw twitches. “When did you get so clumsy?” he asks.
I can’t answer him. I’m not clumsy. I’m just too caught up in the mental battle I am constantly fighting with myself. Mom sits back and leans over Jamie and Chase, passing me a couple band-aids. She gives me a sympathetic smile, one that’s reassuring, and I focus on that warmth rather than the negative vibes I can sense radiating from Dad.
Tearing the plastic off the band-aids, I lean forward and quickly place them over the cuts on my knees. Band-aids have become a necessity over the past couple years, but they can only fix so much.
14
PRESENT DAY
I am crammed into the backseat of Meghan’s shitty, beat-up Corolla as she slowly drives us across town toward Austin’s house. It’s coming down dark now and Rachael is controlling the music from up front, while I’m stuck in the back with Tiffani and Eden on either side of me. I have a box of beer in my lap, and it’s tempting to crack another one open just to help me survive this journey. I lock my eyes on the parking brake and fold my arms across my chest, keeping to myself.
Tiffani and Rachael are doing what they do best: gossiping and wondering who will be at the party. They refer to a couple people as losers, but I’m not listening. I never, ever do. I don’t have the energy for it.
Instead, I am thinking about Eden. She’s on my right and I can sense her looking at me, so I glance over, and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second before we both look away again. Yeah, she was definitely staring. It’s weird, I guess. I figure she’s not used to this either. This whole stepsibling thing. I’m trying to figure her out the same way she seems to be trying to figure me out, but I’m not really getting anywhere.
I peek at her again, and because she is staring out of the window now instead, I take the opportunity to fully study her. Her dark hair is straight and lays flat against her back, though thick strands keep falling over her shoulders and framing her face. She’s wearing a lot of makeup. Eyelids painted dark, like smoke. Thick lashes that seem to grow longer every time she blinks. Red lips. I have only seen her a handful of times so far, but I’ve seen enough to know that this isn’t her.
She senses me watching her, because she turns her eyes back to me, but I’ve already glanced away again. She catches me more than once during the rest of the journey, mostly because I can’t help it. It gets pretty awkward after a while, so I eventually stop looking. I focus on staring straight ahead at nothing in particular again for the rest of the ride, never saying a word, even when Tiffani presses her body against mine and starts touching my thigh.
It’s a relief when we finally pull up outside Austin’s place. I don’t even know the guy that well, but of course, he knows us. It’s still super, super early, barely eight thirty, but already the place is bouncing. There are several cars parked out on the street and there are people standing on the lawn talking to one another. As soon as Meghan cuts her engine, I grab my beer and follow Tiffani out of the car, stretching my legs. I can hear the music already, and I fight the urge to groan. I don’t want to go through all of this again. The excessive drinking, the loud music …
“Hey, Tyler!” someone calls out, and when I glance up, I spot Austin himself rushing across the lawn to greet us. He’s a short guy, but his grin is big enough to make up for it. He waves his beer at me and, knowing I have to put on a show for the next however many hours, I give him a fist bump. “Glad you could make it,” he tells me.
“Yeah.” I bet he is. I bet he’s glad Tiffani’s here, too. We are a permanent fixture at parties, and if we turn up, then it pretty much verifies that the host isn’t a loser. I nod to my beer, desperate to open another. “Kitchen?”
He points to the house and smiles wider. “Yeah. Dump it and come join us.”
I begin to walk, heading across the lawn toward the front door, but I do throw a final glance back over my shoulder at the girls. Tiffani is saying something to Austin, and Meghan is trying to ram her car keys into her purse, and Rachael is staring at the bottle of vodka in her hand. Eden, however, is wearing her usual unreadable expression but her eyes are wary as she takes everything in. She’s going to regret coming. I just know she will.
Shaking my head, I continue into the house, murmuring heys to everyone who nods at me. A few hours ago, I was in my room, thinking. And now I’m here, at another party, buzzed off beer, acting. I hate this. I hate that this is what I have to do to forget.
I navigate my way through the house, keeping my head down as I enter the kitchen. There is alcohol covering every countertop and the floor is already sticky with spilled drinks, and I accidentally step on a shot glass, crushing it. I kick the broken pieces out of the way in aggravation.
“I’ve been wondering when you were gonna show up,” someone says, and Kaleb steps in front of me. His eyes are bloodshot, his smile is lazy. He’s high, but that’s not surprising. I can’t remember the last time I saw him sober. “Austin’s letting us do our thing as long as we stay out of the way, so we’re in the fucking backyard shed.” He begins howling with uncontrollable laughter as he reaches up to open the first cupboard he finds, and he steals a packet of cookies. I watch in silence as he stuffs one into his mouth, closes his eyes, and sinks into euphoria. “Oh my God. Amazing,” he mumbles. He opens his eyes again and tries to focus on me. “So, are you joining? It’s good shit tonight, I swear. Look at me! I’m baked.”
Right now, I really could do with some relaxation. Just a couple hits to put my mind at ease, to numb it. I grab a bottle of beer, pop the cap on the edge of the worktop and then nod. “Count me in.”
Kaleb smirks with delight, only because he knows he’s about to make some money off me, and then he turns around, cookies in hand, and heads back through the house. I step behind him, swigging at my beer, when someone grabs my shoulder just as I’m about to follow Kaleb outside into the backyard. I pause; it’s Jake.
“You finally made it,” he says. “Where’s the girls?”
“Just coming,” I answer bluntly. I don’t want to talk to Jake. I don’t even like the guy, and I just want to smoke a joint. I begin to walk away, but he grabs my shoulder again and pulls me back.
“Where are you going?” he questions, raising an eyebrow. He glances at Kaleb as he continues across the backyard, and then back at me. I think he already knows the answer.
“Where the fuck do you think I’m going, Jake?” I snap, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. God, I wish my friends would leave me alone sometimes. I’ve already been lectured by Rachael tonight, and I don’t need Jake questioning me too. It’s not like they don’t know I smoke.
“Alright, asshole,” he mutters, then finally walks away.
I head outside and stride across the yard after Kaleb toward the shed in the corner. Talk about a drug den. I can smell the weed in the air and hear the laughter before Kaleb has even pulled open the door. And when he does, I’m not surprised to spot Clayton and Mason inside. I’ve smoked with them before. I share some classes at school with them, too.
“It’s about time you made an appearance,” Mason says. He’s stretched out on a lawn chair in the corner, his feet resting up on the lawnmower and an almost burnt-out joint in his hand. He looks scruffy, but whatever. He’s
high as shit. They all are.
“I know.” I grab my wallet from my pocket, pull out fifteen dollars, and offer it to Kaleb. Usually, I prefer to buy from Declan directly, but he’s been laying low lately, so I will have to steal a gram off Kaleb instead. “Hook me up?”
“Maaaaan,” Clayton murmurs. He’s leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air around us. There’s not a lot of room in here, so it’s extremely cramped. “Blissful.”
Kaleb takes my money, fumbles around in his pockets for a minute, then presents me with two prepared joints. “Already rolled two for you,” he says proudly. “I knew you’d be game tonight.”
I take them both from him and study them in my hand. Then I think, Fuck it. “Light me up,” I order, and Kaleb pulls out a lighter and sets one of the joints alight for me. He watches closely as I press it to my lips, eagerly waiting for my approval, and I inhale, taking that first hit.
The smoke fills my lungs, the burning familiarity satisfying my desire. I haven’t smoked in a week, so it feels real nice. I hold the smoke in my lungs for several long seconds, and then I exhale, feeling the difference already. It’ll take me a lot more hits and another five minutes or so before the buzz truly hits me, but I can feel it, that weight over my shoulders losing its pressure.
“Hey, where the fuck did you get those cookies?” Mason asks, shooting upright in his lawn chair. He points his joint at Kaleb, and Clayton opens his eyes.
“Stole ’em from the kitchen. Munchies are kicking in,” Kaleb explains, and all three of them burst into laughter. I’m not high yet, so I don’t laugh, though I do crack a smile.
I lean back against the wall and close my eyes, taking another drag of the joint, focusing on my breathing. Just relax.
“Declan came through for us tonight, by the way,” Kaleb murmurs, nudging me with his elbow. When I open my eyes, he nods down to the small table next to Clayton. In perfect, neat lines, there is coke. I stare at it for a minute. “I told you it’s good shit.”
“Man . . .” I shake my head slowly. Tempting, but no. I’m not that desperate. I have done it before. I do it often, I guess. But only on the nights where I can’t take things any longer, and ever since I took a bad trip once, I’ve been more cautious. I hold up a hand in surrender. “Count me out for tonight.”
“Laaaaame,” Mason drawls, rolling his eyes. “We were waiting for you!”
“More bumps for us then,” Clayton jokes, and again, the laughter continues. The three of them are so stoned, and I wish my own buzz would hurry up and kick in. That’s why I take another hit, holding the smoke in my lungs for as long as I possibly can before it burns too much, then I tilt my head back and release it into the air.
I am just about to close my eyes again, to relax into the warm sensation, when the door of the shed swings open. We are so fogged out in here that it takes me a minute to see who is here to join us.
Shit.
It’s Eden. Her hand is over her mouth and she coughs, stepping back, retreating away. “Is that weed?”
“No, it’s cotton candy,” Mason jokes, and Clayton and Kaleb immediately howl with laughter as though it’s the most hilarious reply they have ever heard in their entire lives.
I don’t join in again, not because I’m not high yet, but because there is panic running through me. I need Eden to know who Tyler Bruce is, but I don’t want her to know about this. Not when she lives in the same damn house as me. Not when she can tell my mom. Quickly, I try to hide my burning joint behind me, hoping she doesn’t notice that I’m involved.
“Are you serious?” she asks, staring at me wide-eyed. Clearly, I am too late. She’s already seen it, and I know that there is absolutely no way I can deny it.
“Dude, get this chick outta here,” Clayton mutters, waving his joint at her. I don’t look at him, though, because my attention is all on Eden. Her eyes are fixed on only me as they dilate with complete and utter disgust. “Unless she wants to come in here and keep us company.”
“Bro,” I murmur, turning to fire Clayton a look. I swallow hard. Play it cool. Be Tyler Bruce. You don’t care. “You really want that kid in here?”
Clayton and Kaleb chuckle while Mason starts coughing to death in the corner. Of course, this is amusing to them, but to me, it’s far from it. I am frozen in place, wondering how the hell I am supposed to get myself out of this situation.
“Who the hell is she?” Clayton finally asks, and I’m definitely not going to answer him. I can only imagine the number of jokes they would crack if they knew she was my stepsister. “Has no one taught her the rules?” He turns to Eden and I don’t like the way he grins at her. “No interrupting, babe. Get the fuck out of here unless you’re here to ball with us.” He steps toward her and holds out his half-smoked joint, offering it to her as if she would actually take it.
Automatically, I step in between the two of them, facing Clayton, Eden behind me. “What the hell are you doing?” I quickly put out my own joint and shove it into my pocket, saving it for later, and then narrow my eyes. “C’mon, Clayton, where’s your common sense?”
“Offering her a hit is common sense,” he says. He moves his joint back to his lips and takes another hit, though I don’t think he needs it. “It’s called good manners. It would be rude not to. Am I right, new girl?” He looks at Eden again over my shoulder.
“Dude, take the damn hint,” I growl under my breath. He is pissing me off now, mostly because I don’t like the way he is talking to her. “She doesn’t want it. Look at her.” I cast a glance over my shoulder at Eden again, and my chest tightens when I see the way she is looking at me. Most people look at me the same way, with that horrified, disgusted look on their face. But seeing that same expression in Eden’s eyes is different, like I am seeing it for the very first time, and I can’t figure out why, for a second, I actually feel disappointed in myself. Those hits I just took must be kicking in. I am feeling lighter, feeling fuzzy.
“Alright, alright. Just get her outta here then. Why do we have some random kid in here anyway?” Clayton asks.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” I mumble, then turn around to face Eden directly. She is shaking her head at me, and that feeling of disappointment rises in my chest again. I need to get her out of here, away from these morons, away from me. I step toward her, but I hit my hand against the table next to us. It catches Eden’s attention.
There is a silence for what feels like forever. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Shit. This is the worst time for my high to be kicking in. I need to maintain a clear head in order to bullshit my way out of this, because I know Eden isn’t stupid. I know she is staring at the coke on the table, and I doubt she thinks it’s sugar.
“Oh my God.” Her face pales with disbelief and I can see questions flashing across her face one by one. She parts those lips of her, her mouth open. “Oh my God?”
“Dude, seriously, I’m not kidding,” Clayton orders, his voice sharp now. “Get her out of here before she calls us out to the cops or something.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s leaving.” Desperate to get Eden away, I grasp her elbow and guide her away from the shed and across the yard until we’re a safe distance away. It feels like it takes me twenty minutes to walk her across the lawn, but in reality, it’s more like twenty seconds.
“You’re unbelievable,” she hisses at me. She shakes my grip off her arm and then stares me straight in the eye. “Coke? Really, Tyler?”
I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her say my name, and I figure it’s the weed, but it sounds like absolute heaven in that husky tone of hers. I want her to say it over and over again for the rest of my life. Yep, I’m stoned.
My gaze meets hers and I am silent for a while. I’m not sure how to explain myself without telling her that my life is a mess. I cover my face with my hands and groan out loud. “This isn’t the place for you,” I tell her. I shove my hands back down into my pockets and I can feel those two joints waiting for
me. Right now, I need them more than ever. “You should—you should go back inside.”
Eden only continues to stare at me with her mouth agape, shaking her head. She looks furious, but I don’t know why. She doesn’t even know me. She shouldn’t care, but it’s clear that she does, and I have this awful feeling that she’s going to tell my mom about this when she gets home. Mom already knows that I smoke, though she doesn’t know just how often, and she certainly doesn’t like it. The coke, however, she has no idea about. I’m not sure how much longer it’ll stay that way.
I turn around and head back toward the shed—another twenty-minute walk to my buzzed mind—and the guys are waiting for me with curious expressions. There’s no way I’m telling them who Eden is, so instead I stick to being Tyler Bruce, and I roll my eyes and say, “Got rid of that loser.”
More laughter erupts and the shed feels as though it is shaking. I laugh too this time, but not for long, because we are interrupted when I hear Dean’s voice call out, “Dude, come on. That’s low. Chill out.”
I flash my eyes over at him. He’s standing a few feet away from us, shaking his head in disapproval. He looks sober as hell, but that’s not surprising. Dean’s like that. He’s a nice guy, always keeps himself in check, always looks out for people. That’s why he has so many friends. Real ones.
“Shut the fuck up, Dean,” I mutter, and he just sighs in reply and sprints across the lawn toward Eden. I stare after him, my eyebrows furrowing as I watch the two of them talk. Have they even met yet? They talk for what I feel like is an hour, but they’re too far away to hear what they’re saying.
“C’mon, get lighting up,” Kaleb urges, tossing me his lighter.
I swiftly catch it and then reach back into my pocket to pull out my joint from earlier. I place it between my lips and relight it, and just as I’m about to take another hit, I see her again. Eden, watching me over her shoulder as she lingers by the door to the house. I wish she didn’t care. I wish she’d just shrugged, rolled her eyes and left. I don’t know her well enough yet to predict what she will do with this information. In fact, I don’t know her at all, so now I’m worried she is the type of girl who will tell. And then I’ll be kicked out of the house. And then I’ll need to find a way to survive.