"Let's take a look around, see who else is here," suggested Hang. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my hand and tugged me to my feet. The crowd was thick. She said "hey" and "hi" to various people. I smiled and avoided eye contact. Nice to know the robbery hadn't changed everything--my social skills were still crap. Someone yelled out "there's Holden!" and others laughed, but I ignored it all.
"Want to get a drink?" I asked Hang, turning her back on the pool once more.
She nodded.
"Edie." An arm was suddenly slung around my neck, the scent of booze and tobacco thick in the air. "Good to see you."
"Anders! Hey." It took me a moment to catch my breath, to get my heart rate back under control. Not Chris, not a crazed lunatic. Sort of. "How are you? This is my friend, Hang."
"We've got History together, right?" he asked her.
"Yes," said Hang. "You asked me to do your homework for you one time."
Anders's brow filled with lines. "Did you say yes?"
"No."
"Meanie."
Hang just laughed.
"Anders, you look hot," I said, trying again to remove his limbs from me.
"I know, right? Thanks, Edie."
"As in temperature-wise, you idiot. Why don't you take Hang for a swim?"
He turned back to my companion, doing some strange brow-waggling thing. "Shall we get wet?"
"What about you?" Hang asked me, ignoring his comment.
"I'm fine," I said. "Go, swim. I know you want to."
She squinted, gaze moving between me, Anders, and the pool again.
"Seriously, I'm not much for swimming. Plus I didn't bring my suit." Not that I would have necessarily felt comfortable enough to do that even if I had known about the pool. "I'm going to get a drink."
"Edie, are you sure?" she asked.
"I'm sure."
"Ladies, please," cried Anders. "Make a decision."
"Okay." Hang shrugged. "Let's do it."
With that, Anders ran for the pool, dive-bombing in fully dressed. Water sprayed up into the sky, everyone cracking up with laughter. Hang followed behind at a more sedate pace, giving me a slightly worried look.
"You'll be fine," I said, giving her two thumbs up. God, I hoped Anders didn't accidentally drown her.
Cup of beer in hand, I sat off to one side of the pool, dangling my feet in the cool water. Nothing wrong with just watching. Especially since I didn't know the bulk of the people. Carrie and Sophia had disappeared inside a while back. Hang and Anders were chatting with some people down in the shallow end. Eventually, he'd thrown out his waterlogged socks and sneakers to dry. The rest of his clothing, however, remained. He was a strange one, but obviously popular. Others had a tendency to hover nearby, waiting for their turn to bask in his attention. To be the target of one of his bad jokes or to congratulate him on some basketball win or something. I liked how he kept Hang by his side, made her laugh. Given she'd volunteered to drive tonight, I could tell there'd be no leaving anytime soon.
Which was fine.
This wasn't so bad, being here. Sure, I might not be in the thick of things, but full marks to me for leaving the house and attempting a social life like a normal person. And I'd had a new book to read and everything. While no small animals had been harmed, sacrifices had definitely been made. As for staring at the night sky and not sleeping, why, I could indulge both of those hobbies right here. Awesome.
Mom had been ecstatic at the news of me going out with some new friends. It'd been the first time I'd seen her smile in days. I hated how a chunk of her happiness was dependent on me when I could barely keep my own head in check.
"'The hell you doing hiding in the shrubbery?" John ducked and weaved to get through the garden planted at the water's edge.
"Oh, hi. Just getting back to nature. You know."
"Sure." He did not sound convinced.
"So you came." I smiled.
"You too." He sat down beside me, leaning back on his hands. Damn, he looked good, effortlessly so with his hair tied back, Converse, jeans, and a dark blue T-shirt. To think I'd labored over my makeup for almost an hour and changed outfits three times before settling on this dress. It'd probably taken him all of two minutes to get ready.
"I'm not hiding," I said, taking a sip of beer. Ew. Still not my favorite thing, but it was what they had.
He just looked at me. Whatever; the boy could think what he liked.
For a while, we sat in silence, watching the party, listening to the music. It felt horribly right, having him at my side. I did my best to ignore those feelings.
"If you must know, I'm sitting down at this end because Anders was splashing around like crazy and I didn't want to get soaked." I smoothed the skirt of my dress down over my thighs. "He's like a duck having a fit or something. It's actually kind of scary."
John smiled.
"So that's why I'm here," I said with a smile. Because all of the bikinis and cool people hadn't set my insecurities to high alert at all. "What about you, shouldn't you be over there hanging out with Bree?"
He said nothing. Probably felt sorry for me or something. That made sense.
"You don't need to keep me company, you know," I said. "I'm fine on my own."
"Am I bothering you?" he asked, forehead lined.
"No. I just thought . . ."
He waited.
"Ignore me." I sighed. "I don't even know what I'm going on about and I'm going to stop talking now."
He blinked. "Okay."
Silence lasted all of about a minute. Probably less.
"It's just that you said you probably weren't going to talk to me in public," I pointed out. "And this is the second time since you said that where we've basically talked in public."
More frowning. "Yeah, well, there aren't any teachers here. Besides, we're not exactly in public. We're hiding among foliage in a dark corner at a party."
"True."
"So you admit about the hiding?" he asked.
"Shut up."
"Anyway," he said, holding back a smile. "I'm not dealing anymore. They'll get the message eventually. You didn't seem too worried about them bothering you, so . . ."
"I'm not. Really."
A nod. "That's your friend with Anders, right?"
"Yeah."
"You don't like swimming?" he asked.
I wrinkled my nose. "No. Well, not really in front of a crowd. I'm more of a non-public performance swimmer. I mean, yes, I do like the water. A lot actually, and I'm quite . . . just not in this sort of instance, basically."
"Um, Edie?" His brow wrinkled. "That was confusing."
"Okay." I sighed. "Can we just pretend that didn't happen and change the topic?"
"Sure."
A steady supply of John-centric information had been flowing my way all week, care of Hang. How he rarely slept with the same girl twice. There'd been great debate as to whether boredom or attempts of female possessiveness were to blame. How he'd inherited the marijuana trade when his brother left high school and moved on to other things. How he'd stopped skipping school and turned up on time every day since the Drop Stop. Due to a sudden belief in education or continued police monitoring, Hang and the girls weren't sure.
He made me curious; I just did my best to not let it show. Apparently my best sucked if Hang's preoccupation with the subject was any indicator.
"You mind?" The man/boy in question nodded toward my drink.
I handed over the cup of beer. "Help yourself. No cooties, I promise. Just plain old girl germs."
His smile slayed me. Then his face scrunched up something awful and he handed back the drink. "You've been here a while, haven't you?"
"Yeah. It's pretty warm." I laughed. "And beer's not really my thing, so . . . anyway. I don't know why I even keep trying it; I guess it's just what's available. Yeah. Sorry."
He cocked his head. "Do I make you nervous or something?"
Shit. "What? No! Of course not."
He just sta
red at me.
"You don't."
"It's just that you keep going to say stuff and then stopping and . . . yeah."
"Like what you just did?" I asked in a wry tone.
"Exactly like what I just did."
I laughed.
"You make me sort of nervous too." He didn't look at me; he didn't have to. "If that helps."
I stopped laughing and started having a tiny heart attack.
He cleared his throat. "You haven't called or texted me."
"Well, you didn't really want to give me your number."
"No, not at first." One shoulder hitched. "But then I did give it to you."
"True. Okay." Big sigh. "The truth is, I couldn't think of anything clever to say."
"So say something boring. I don't mind."
This boy wanted me to communicate with him. My heart basically sang with joy. "Okay."
"Anyone been giving you crap at school?"
"About Holden?" I did a one-shoulder shrug, trying to be cool. "Honestly, I don't care. It would have bothered me before, all of the carrying on. But now . . . it's nothing really."
"Mm." A reluctant smile crossed his face. "A lot of things don't seem so important anymore."
"I guess a near-death experience will do that to you."
In silence, he studied the party people once more. The guys gathered around the keg, the swarm of people on the dance floor, Anders and Hang having fun in the pool.
"Want to get out of here, go for a drive?" he asked.
"Sure!"
With athletic grace, he stood, dusting off his hands before offering me one. What a gentleman. No way would I be letting him get a feel for my weight this century, however. I pretended I hadn't seen his hand and climbed up onto my feet, all on my own.
Since we were sort of sneaking out, I sent Hang a text letting her know I'd find my own way home. We crept along the side of the house, avoiding most of the people. When the bitchy little voice inside my head said it was because he didn't want to be seen with me, I shut it down quick. Twice now he'd sought me out.
Up close, his old Charger was even louder, the engine grumbling and growling. It had cracked leather seats and smelled of grease and a fading pine car freshener. No air-conditioning, so I followed his lead and wound down the window. Unlike me, John actually kept his car clean. No wonder Anders had been frightened by the amount of stuff inside my vehicle. But really, my car was just an extension of my room, locker, and schoolbag. That and a set of wheels to get me places, of course.
Outside of Sabrina's party, the suburb was quiet this late on a Saturday night. Nothing stirred in the pools of light left by the streetlamps. A hot wind tossed around my long hair. To be safe, I leaned my elbow on the open window, covering my scar with my hand. I was really here, hanging out with John Cole. Hang would go nuts if she knew.
"Why didn't you give any interviews?" he asked, eyes on the road. "After it happened."
I didn't hurry to answer. The subject sat in my head behind warning signs and flashing lights. But if I was ever going to talk about it to anybody, it would be John.
He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye. "You didn't want the money?"
"I didn't want the attention and I didn't want to talk about it." Uncomfortable, I fidgeted with the seat belt, set a black bra strap back atop my shoulder. "All of the facts had already been reported. What was there to add, and why drag it out, anyway?"
He made a noise in his throat. God only knew what it meant.
"People died. The thought of turning that into entertainment for the masses did not appeal."
"Mm."
"What about you?" I asked.
"Didn't seem right."
"Did you get hassled on Instagram and all that?"
"Yeah," he said, pushing his hair back with a hand. "Just been ignoring them."
"I shut my accounts down. I kind of miss it, though. I mean, I only ever really put up pictures of books, but still."
He almost smiled.
"Hey. Did you have that guy from the local anti-gun lobby contact you?"
"No."
I huffed out a laugh. "They wanted me to be their new face, to give public talks and help them rally the youth to their cause."
"Seriously?"
"Oh yeah. I don't know, maybe I should have given it a try. I'm no fan of the NRA, obviously," I said. "But I do think meth had more to do with what happened than guns."
"Think he would have gotten as far with a knife?"
"Good question," I said. "I don't know. What do you think?"
"Lunatic like him all agitated like he was . . . maybe, maybe not."
"Hmm."
The road went on and on before us, the headlights cutting through the night.
"I can't even bring myself to talk about it to my mom," I said. "She keeps asking, thinking it might help, and . . . anyway. God knows what made them think I could give a speech about it in front of a crowd of strangers."
Nothing from him.
"I don't even want to think about it. But sometimes, it just gets stuck in your head, you know?"
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."
In an hour it would be the four-week anniversary. Almost a month since I'd watched two people get killed and had a gun in my mouth, John had risked death to save me, and I'd nearly shot Chris. Funny, it felt like it'd been both years and a moment since I'd left my youth and naivety behind police lines and crime scene tape.
"It's weird," I said, staring out at the houses flying past. "Now I know how much there is to be afraid of and it terrifies me. But at the same time, I feel like if I could live through that, what happened to us, then I can survive anything. Like, what is there really to be afraid of? Weird, huh?"
"No. Not really."
"It could have easily been us in the ground tonight."
"Nearly was," he said.
"And I don't know about you," I said, twisting in the seat, all the better to see his face, "but I'm probably not going to be curing cancer anytime soon. Why do we get to live while they died? It's all just random."
"It's not all random," he said, his eyes fixed on the road. "It was my idea."
"What was your idea?"
"That moment, at the Drop Stop, when Chris dragged you to the door." His eyes flickered over me, his gaze hooded with something that looked a lot like guilt. "I reached out and grabbed the neck of one of the unopened beers. To use as a weapon. Then I looked at Isaac to see if he'd back me up. That poor kid was white as a sheet, but he nodded. Just like that, in that split second, he made the decision to trust me. His drug dealer. Fucking insane, huh?"
"He was a hero," I said. "You both were."
"It's not random," he repeated. "He trusted the wrong guy, and now he's dead. Guess that's how it goes."
"What about the poor clerk? What did he do to deserve getting murdered?"
"What about Chris?" he countered. "Every step he took since he reached out to take his first hit of meth led him to that Drop Stop. Every choice he made just pushed him farther down that path."
I frowned in thought, my eyes scouring his face as he watched the road. "Is that why you gave up dealing?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, gaze shifting from the road to me, filled with guilt. I clamped my mouth shut. He didn't need me psychoanalyzing him. Both of us had too much of that bullshit in our lives already. And yet . . .
"You're not what caused that situation, John. You shouldn't blame yourself."
He said nothing for a good long time.
Rock music filled the small space, spilling out into the streets as we drove. A female voice sang about the night belonging to lovers.
"What's this song?" I asked.
"Patti Smith. It's pretty old. Hell, the car's probably older than both of us put together." He glanced at the cassette slot on the stereo, sounding a bit relieved that I'd changed the subject. "But the, ah, the tape's stuck in there."
"It's nice."
His long fingers tapp
ed against the wheel while the palm of his other hand rested on the stick shift.
"Why do you do that?" he asked, nodding toward the hand I had braced against my forehead. His gaze returned to the road. "Because of the scar, right?"
"Yeah."
He shook his head. "You don't need to hide."
I had nothing.
We drove in silence to the lake. All of the dark and silent little beaches and parks surrounding it were known to be prime make-out places. Of course, it's not why we were there. In fact, I had no idea why we were there.
"Let's go," he said, climbing out of the car and tearing off his T-shirt. What the hell was it with this guy and being half-naked?
Honestly, I just wasn't sure how much more my heart and hormones could take since the self-love hadn't worked. One moment I'd been happily picturing John's hands, John's mouth. Heat curling down low inside of me. The next, I'd been back at the Drop Stop surrounded by blood, adrenaline crashing through me in terror. Nothing worked anymore; both my body and my mind were against me. I'd wanted to scream, put my fist through a wall. I was disconnected from everything.
"Go where?" I asked, standing beside the car and watching him start in on his shoes.
"Swimming. Come on, there's no crowd here."
Oh shit. "But what are we going to wear?"
He just stopped and looked at me.
"Underwear. Right. Forget I asked," I mumbled.
Half of a moon hung high in the sky. Better than a full one for sure, but still. On my list of things to do, stripping down in front of John did not feature strongly. Or really at all.
"Something wrong?" he asked, stepping out of his jeans. "You're not scared, are you?"
"No." Yes.
"You've jumped off the rock before, right?"
"The rock?" I looked around, at last taking full note of where exactly along the lake we were. "You want to jump off a cliff into the water in the dark? Are you insane?"
He threw back his head and laughed loud and long. Asshat.
The sound did strange things to me. "You're serious."
"Absolutely--hurry up." His jeans went onto the driver's-side seat, then he shut the door and leaned back. "I won't look if it makes you feel better."
"Shit."
"It's okay to be afraid, Edie. You just can't let it stop you from doing anything."
I could do this.
No. No, actually I couldn't.
Oh, God.
Hands shaking, I lowered the zipper and pulled the dress over my head. Wrestled off my boots and socks and stashed it all in the car. Thank God I'd worn a decent black lace bra and plain cotton boy shorts. "Let's go."