I woke up screaming that time.
My mom came rushing in. She had been asking what was wrong for a while. She heard me yelling the other times I woke up from nightmares, but my words were incomprehensible. I told her I didn’t remember what I was dreaming about. I was exhausted all the time because it was impossible to go back to sleep after one of those nightmares. I would stay awake the rest of the night, staring at the darkness, playing scenarios over and over in my mind that would result in my sister being alive today. When my mom rushed in that time I screamed, I was so frustrated and sleep deprived that I finally told her what was going on.
But I never should have told her. She would not drop it. She kept having these whispered conversations with my dad. They kept throwing me worried looks all the time. I’m like the last person you need to walk on eggshells around. People like being with me. They like my positive energy. They like that I have an optimistic attitude no matter how bad things get. My bright outlook inspires them to be positive, too. Brooke even said that being around me was like a shot of sunshine. So it was infuriating to have the people who were supposed to love me more than anyone suddenly treat me like a different person. I couldn’t stand to be around them for another minute. I had to get out of there.
Moving into a new place was supposed to give me a fresh start that would make the nightmares go away. I kept telling my mom that I didn’t need counseling. Or a support group. Or medication. I kept telling her that the annual Remembrance Walk was enough.
But maybe I was wrong.
There were times when I thought my brother, Marnix, should have gotten help. He basically locked himself in his room for all of high school. When my parents tried to talk to him, he’d yell at them and slam his door. Marnix slammed his door in my face lots of times, too. I know my parents are relieved that he’s away at college now. It’s hard to live with someone who shuts you out. Especially if they’re family.
I’m not slamming doors in people’s faces. But am I shutting my mom out when I should be letting her in?
EIGHT
DARCY
LOGAN WANTED TO TAKE ME out tonight. But there was no way I would desert Sadie in her moment of need. So I threw down some girl-time plans. I told Logan we could go out tomorrow night instead. Then I told Sadie to get ready to love the nightlife. Hoes over bros.
This girl in my art history class is friends with a bouncer who works at the hottest new club. A bouncer who happens to be on tonight. She totally hooked me up. After dropping her name and working my charms, the bouncer let us in but made us swear not to drink or his ass would be grass. We’d never be let in here again if we crossed the adult beverage line. And I intend to crash this place more than once. So we scored a table and I ordered us virgin mojitos to enjoy while we watch everyone else making fools of their drunk selves.
The DJ is on fire. He’s been laying down some sweet tracks that are making everyone rock to the beat. The dance floor is packed. Summer Fun Darcy would love this place if she were still on the prowl for boy adventures.
“What’s in this?” Sadie asks after she takes the first sip of her drink.
“Ginger ale. Mint. Lime juice. Um . . . and sugar?”
“This is delicious.”
“Yay. So you’re happy to be out?”
Sadie smiles. “Well, we haven’t seen anyone freak out yet. You promised a freakout.”
“Oh, there’ll be freaking out. Just you wait.”
“Maybe some girl will even throw a drink in her boyfriend’s face.”
“Nice one.” I told Sadie all about how I threw that drink in Logan’s face after he dumped me. The day after he dumped me, to be exact. At Urth Caffe, which was our place. He was laughing with his friends like nothing catastrophic went down the day before. Like he wasn’t even a little bit sorry for ripping us apart. So yeah. I picked up his drink and threw it in his face. It was a badass move I’ve never regretted for a second.
“Do you think it would make me feel better if I threw a drink in Austin’s face?” Sadie ponders.
“I know I’d feel better. And you’d get to diss him publicly. We could track him down in Jersey City. Oooh, maybe his wife would even be there!”
“Like I would want to see her. Think I’ll pass on finding out how gorgeous she is.”
“How do you know she’s gorgeous?”
“Because Austin is gorgeous. Why wouldn’t his wife be?” Sadie washes down the word wife with a few gulps of her drink.
Sadie doesn’t have to tell me how gorgeous that boy was. I remember running into Sadie and Austin on the stoop one time when I was leaving for a date. They had a vibe like they’d been together for a while. Like they were already boyfriend and girlfriend. But then I found out they had just met.
I scope out the scene. Two guys at the bar have been looking at us since we got here. They’re cute in a frat boy way.
“See those guys at the bar?” I tilt my head slightly in their direction. “They’ve been staring at you this whole time.”
“Which guys?” Sadie turns to look. The guys notice her looking. One of them raises his glass.
“The ones who just saw you gawking at them.”
“Who cares if they saw?”
“It’s better to play it cool. They might lose interest if you seem desperate.”
“Are you seriously trying to hook me up with some random bar dudes?”
“Too soon?”
Sadie takes another look at the glass raiser, surreptitiously this time. “He’s not even half as cute as Austin.”
“Okay, rule number one for moving on? You need to get over how cute Austin was. His cuteness factor is entirely irrelevant. The boy broke your heart. He’s an asshole.”
“But that’s the thing. He’s not an asshole. He’s actually a good person.”
“Name one good thing he’s doing.”
“He’s dedicating his life to green design for urban environments.”
“I’m sorry, but just because a guy is environmentally aware doesn’t exempt him from being an asshole. A person can be a prick and still advocate wind turbines.”
“You know that’s not the only good thing about him. He’s caring. And protective. And a dreamer like me. Being with him felt the way I’d always wanted to feel with a boyfriend. Being with him was . . . everything.”
We sit in silence with dancehall pounding and club lights pulsing and hundreds of trendy twentysomethings getting hammered. Normally I’d love a place like this. Here you can escape for the night. You can be anyone. You can turn a stranger into your next boy adventure. You can be completely anonymous or spill your life story. Whatever you want to be, whomever you want to be, however you want to be are all within your reach.
But Sadie is not having a good time. I need to step up my support system game. Time for a subject change.
“Can you believe Rosanna is in South Beach?” I say. “With a man?”
“I know!”
“How have we not talked about this?”
“I’m really happy for her.”
“Rosanna is radical on the DL. That’s hot. I was hoping she had a wild side that was going to emerge. There’s nothing like dating a trust-fund kid with the world at his disposal to yank you out of your shell.”
“This is her first vacation anywhere.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s what she said.”
My mouth drops open. “She never went on any family vacays?”
“Her family isn’t . . . they don’t have a lot of money. You know Rosanna is one of five kids, right?”
That I knew. But I didn’t know money was so tight in her family. I just thought she needed a style hack. That’s why I treated her to some new clothes and accessories. She didn’t want to accept them, but I insisted. I even ripped the tags off and destroyed the receipts so she couldn’t return anything. I wanted her to feel good about herself. Now that she’s with D, I bet she appreciates not having to come incorrect for dinner at Babbo in some
busted threads. Just because Mario Batali can pop out from the kitchen in orange Crocs to add the finishing touches to a crackling duck wing or whatever doesn’t mean you get to slum it in daytime attire when you’re eating there.
My dad gave me a credit card that I’m allowed to use for almost anything. The deal is he pays the bill every month as long as I stay serious about college. He’s not loving that I don’t know what I want to do with my life. But the way he sees it, at least I’m in school. He digs that I’m taking summer session to make up some of the credits I missed last year while I was backpacking through Europe. Daddy doesn’t want my gap year turning into a gap decade.
“I hope she’s okay,” Sadie says.
“She’s more than okay. They’re staying at like the swankiest hotel there.”
“Do you think she’d call us if she wasn’t okay? We’re pretty much her only friends in New York so far. I want her to know she can count on us if she’s in trouble.”
This is why Sadie is so endearing. She even worries about other people when she’s the one people should be worrying about.
“I wonder how the separate rooms thing is going,” I say.
“That makes me like Donovan even more. He knows Rosanna wants to take things slow and he totally respects that. She’s smart. I’d only known Austin for ten days when he stayed over at our place. Look where it got me.”
“You’re different. Rosanna is way more cautious. More reserved. You know how to take a chance. There’s no way you could have known what Austin was hiding. You fell in love. That’s a beautiful thing. No regrets.”
“Excuse me, but what have you done with my friend Darcy?”
“She’s right here. Did you not recognize me in these wild shoes?” I reach down to adjust the straps of my new Dolce platform sandals. These are proving to be among the most challenging shoes I’ve ever worn. Challenge accepted.
“Since when do you think falling in love is a beautiful thing?”
I remember how Logan and I used to be. He was my first love, and falling in love with him was like diving into a clear blue sea. I thought I could see everything we were, everything we were meant to be. I was wrong. But the falling part . . . The falling part was pure ecstasy.
“Falling in love is beautiful,” I say. “It’s the being in love part that sucks.”
“Maybe you haven’t been in love with the right person yet. True love makes people happy more than anything.”
“How can you be so positive about love after what just happened to you?”
Sadie gives me a reflective smile. “That’s just how I am. I’m an eternal optimist.”
“Well, I hope the eternal optimist will stop worrying about Rosanna. She’s having the time of her life.”
“Bonus—she’s getting a break from your snoring.”
“For the zillionth time. I do not snore.”
Sadie presses her lips together but can’t hide her smile. “You snore.”
I put my hand up, palm facing Sadie. Then I turn my hand around and give it a confused look. “The hand’s not even listening. I was going to be like, ‘Talk to the hand.’ But then it wasn’t listening to you, either.”
“You should apologize to your hand for keeping it up at night with your snoring.”
“You have me confused with someone who snores.”
“I don’t think so.” Sadie takes her phone out of her bag. She searches for something. Then she holds it out triumphantly for me to see. “We recorded you. Snoring.”
“What? When?”
“Right after you insisted you don’t snore. Rosanna and I snuck into your room and recorded you. I wish she was here to see this.”
“How did you . . . ?” I examine her screen. A graph is being displayed with sound waves. I can’t hear the sound over the loud music, but I get the gist. Whoever thought it was cute to think up this snore app has another thing coming. “You seriously recorded me snoring?”
“We did.”
“Seriously?”
Sadie leans over to see the screen. “Oh, here’s the best part. This is where you do a snorting thing that almost wakes you up. Check out how the waves peak.”
Other people might be mad at being recorded without their consent. Or think that their roommates sneaking into their room to record them was creepy. But I’m not other people. I think it’s freaking hilarious.
I start laughing so hard I have to put the phone down on the table before I smash it in a convulsive fit. My spazzing makes Sadie bust out laughing. The more I laugh, the harder she cracks up. Tears are running down our faces. Sadie is bent over like her stomach hurts from laughing so hard.
A group of girls on the couch across from us are throwing us contorted looks like we’re the crazy ones. But they’re the ones all posing on the couch in their micro dresses and overglossed lips, zinging judgment our way for having a genuinely good time.
They make us crack up even harder.
NINE
ROSANNA
WE COULDN’T BREAK OUT OF South Beach mode after we flew home this morning. And we didn’t want to go our separate ways after having such a perfect time together. So we took a car service from the airport to D’s place, dropped our bags off, got our beach stuff together, and came over to Soho House. D explained that Soho House has a ridiculous rooftop pool. He also explained that Soho House has an extremely exclusive membership policy. I wasn’t surprised to find out that D’s parents are also members. D can use the pool anytime he wants. Fortunately for me, he’s allowed to bring a guest.
The backdrop of this rooftop pool in the Meatpacking District is strikingly different from our view in South Beach. Instead of gazing out over the ocean with palm trees swaying in the breeze, we are surrounded by buildings. Not right on top of us. They’re a bit in the distance, but close enough for you to know where you are. It’s pretty cool to be up in this special place most people down on the street don’t even know exists. It’s like we have our own secret hiding place with some other exclusive members. D orders me a watermelon juice, and we sit in a prime spot on the lounge couch.
I cannot get over how drastically my life has changed since I moved here last month. How bizarre is it that D is treating me to the best restaurants and venues on the nights I see him, but I’m eating bagels for dinner and collecting coupons on the nights I don’t?
D smiles at me. “It’s like you were meant for this,” he says.
“You could say I’m having a decent time. I mean”—I fake-scoff at the rooftop with its insane pool and lush landscaping and beautiful people—“if you’re into perfection or whatever.”
“What I love about you is that you appreciate it. All of it. Every last detail. Most people up here don’t give their lifestyle a second thought. This is what they’ve known their whole life. But you . . . you’re different.”
Um. Did D just say he loves something about me? As in a part of me he loves? As in he also loves other parts of me?
“Remember three days ago?” he asks.
We’ve been doing this thing where we reminisce about our trip like it happened a long time ago. On the plane we were like, “Remember last night? Remember Friday morning? Remember Wednesday?” Our vacation was even more perfect than I imagined the perfect vacation would be.
“Let’s see,” I say, pretending to have a hard time remembering. “That was . . . Thursday. Rooftop pool, bike riding, and another best dinner ever.”
“Remember two days ago?”
“Sunset beach walk.” D took me for the most romantic walk on the beach. I’d always thought the idea of a romantic sunset beach walk was too cliché to not be corny. But the beach at sunset in real life was breathtaking. It was my first time seeing an ocean for real. My first time walking on beach sand. My first time hearing the crashing waves, feeling the foaming water lapping at my legs, smelling the salt and tang of the ocean. Beaches in photos or movies could never have prepared me for the vast beauty of being there in person. It felt like a place inside of me t
hat had been sealed tightly closed flew wide open. The ocean went on forever. We walked along the water’s edge as the sky fused pink into purple. D held my hand the whole time. Even when he reached down to pick up a shell he knew I’d love, he didn’t let go of me. The shell is small, white, and smooth, with light pink stripes. I’m going to put it on the windowsill in my room when I get home.
D shifts closer to me on the lounge couch, pressing his leg against mine. “Remember last night?” he says.
My face gets hot. I slept in D’s room last night. I didn’t mean to. We got back to the hotel late and D walked me to my room. He kissed me good-night outside my room, just like he did the night before. Only this time we couldn’t stop kissing.
“Let’s go to your room,” I said. The words came out of my mouth before I could think about them. Like I was someone who wasn’t me. Like I was a girl who went to boys’ rooms late at night.
We made out on D’s bed for hours.
Making out with him wasn’t scary the way I thought it would be. The only scary part was wondering how far we would go next time. And the time after that.
At some point I must have crashed. I’d been so tired when we’d gotten back to the hotel, I’d been running on a supercharged combo of lust and adrenaline. When I woke up, the first thing I saw were bright lines of sunlight around the edges of the curtains. For a second I thought I was in my own room. Except I didn’t remember closing the curtains. I liked sleeping with the curtains and window open so I could hear the ocean waves as I fell asleep. Then it hit me that I was still in D’s room. On D’s bed. I was on top of the covers in my underwear. Nervous excitement zipped through me.
D woke up and turned toward me. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even open his eyes. He just spooned me. I could feel his bare chest pressed against my back, his arm slung over my waist, his legs bending against the backs of mine. I was afraid to move. I didn’t want to wake him up in case he was falling back to sleep. After a while, D hugged me close. Then he turned me gently to face him.