Sasha tosses her hair. “Sure. Something like that.”
Savannah wilts a little next to me. But then she squares her shoulders, as if steeling herself. “Come on, let’s dance.” She laces her arm through Sasha’s.
“Get me a beer, okay, babe?” Sasha’s grip on Savannah is tight. Behind them, a few of the other Mustang Sallys watch through narrowed eyes. All it will take is a word from Sasha to make them turn on Savannah.
It suddenly feels crazy to me, like Savannah’s sticking her hand in an alligator’s mouth. And then, with disgust, I realize I’m no different. We all act like we’re honored to let her treat us like shit.
I make my way through the crowds to the backyard, which is lit with Christmas lights strung through the posts in the wrought iron fence. A bunch of people gather around the keg on the patio. Half the wrestling team is in the kidney-shaped pool with their girlfriends, chicken fighting. Natalie McAfee already has her top off. She falls off Mike Bookout’s shoulders with a squeal and a splash. A little further back there’s a bonfire pit. I see Caleb and Irene in the group gathered around.
Caleb’s roasting a marshmallow over the flames, turning it slowly back and forth for an even golden brown. Irene’s got a charred-looking s’more in one hand, a joint in the other.
“Double-fisted partying. Nice,” I say. I grab the joint from her and take a drag. The smoke washes over my nerves, smoothing out the tangles.
“You look like hell,” Irene says. “What’s up?”
“Sasha’s in a mood.” I take a deep breath. The heat of the flames laps against my skin. “She drove out here like a fucking maniac. Now she’s in there torturing the other Sallys or something. I’ve got to take her a beer in a second.”
“Is it my imagination, or is she more psycho than usual?” Irene frowns.
I shrug. “She’s pissed that Savannah’s having the first big party of the year, I think. It’s usually at her house, but her parents have her on a short leash since the whole security camera thing.”
“Did you hear she managed to get Tori Spencer kicked off the Sallys? She basically accused Tori of bullying her.” Irene pops the last of her s’more into her mouth. “Which doesn’t sound like Tori. It sounds like Sasha.” Her words are muffled through the marshmallow.
I grimace. “Yeah. She’s been laughing about it.” Tori was trying to change one of their routines, which meant that Sasha’s solo got cut. She went crying to their coach with some crazy story about Tori sabotaging her costume before a game.
Irene shakes her head. “Jesus, what’s it gonna take for you to break up with her?”
I don’t answer right away. The truth is, I don’t know how to answer. Because Irene’s right. Sasha’s appeal has worn thin. I don’t know if it’s that Sasha’s gotten more unstable, or if I’m finally just seeing it for what it is—not some wild, free-spirited energy but something dark and bottomless and boiling. Something with the power to destroy.
That’s when Devon Lord, who’s standing on the other side of Irene, speaks up, startling all three of us.
“Man, sorry to slide into your conversation like a creep, but it’s crazy that you gave Sasha that ring.”
Irene, Caleb, and I turn to stare at him.
“What ring?” I ask.
Devon pulls his marshmallow out of the pit. It’s a perfect golden brown, even on all sides. He blows on it for a moment, then slides it onto a graham cracker. “That promise ring, or whatever? I don’t know, it looked like a big honking diamond.”
“How the hell is Gabe gonna afford a diamond?” Irene asks. “He owes me, like, ten thousand dollars for the past three years of Taco Cabana trips. He’s never got money.”
Devon shrugs.
“Seriously, when did you hear about this?” I realize my voice has gotten loud. People are looking. I grit my teeth and try to calm down. “This is so ridiculous. Like, she had a ring and she was showing it off or something?”
“Yup. In figure drawing yesterday. She kept sort of flitting her hand around.” He mimes admiring the back of his hand. “Kept talking about how romantic the whole thing was. Had some big story about how you promised to be with her forever, and you had chocolate-covered strawberries and, like, some song you wrote just for her . . .”
I grimace. “No, man, I didn’t do any of that shit. She’s . . . she’s just messing with you.”
But I can’t get the image out of my mind. Sasha with a dreamy smile on her face, telling some story that makes it sound like I’m planning to marry her someday. Maybe doing it as some kind of joke at first . . . but reveling in the attention. Letting the story spin out of control. Letting everyone believe it. It’s not exactly out of character for her.
Almost as if she’s reading my mind, Irene turns to look at me. “That’s the kind of shit she always pulls when something’s out of her control, Gabe.”
But before she can finish her sentence, I catch sight of Sasha, emerging from the darkness and into the orange light of the bonfire. Her shoulders are rigid with anger.
“What happened to getting my beer?” she snaps.
Normally, when Sasha comes at me like that, I get flustered. Normally I stammer an apology, sheepishly say goodbye to my friends, hurry to the line at the keg. But this time I can’t even speak. I just stare at her.
Her expression falters a little. “What?”
“So where’s that promise ring I gave you?” I say.
She tosses her hair and gives an airy laugh. “Oh, that. Give me a break, I was obviously kidding. I found a ring in Mom’s safe and thought it’d be funny.”
“Sure. Except Devon Lord believed you. So you’re not kidding. You’re lying.”
“Devon Lord is dumb as a sack of bricks,” she says. “No offense, Devon.”
“Uh, taken,” he says, frowning.
“And besides . . .” She puts her hand on her hips and stares at me, and even though I know I’m in the right and she is not, I feel like I’m about three inches tall. “Is it so fucking awful for people to think you might do something nice for me once in a while? God, to hear you talk, I’ve been telling everyone I’m pregnant or you gave me crabs or something.”
Is she right? Am I overreacting? I don’t even know anymore. I’m never on stable ground with Sasha. I never know how to feel.
And suddenly, that’s enough of a reason to be done.
She must see it in my expression. An uncertain look flickers across her face and is gone. Her hands drift away from her hips and she shrinks a little.
“Gabe?” she asks. It’s maybe the first time I’ve heard her sound vulnerable . . . but I don’t care anymore.
I look over at Caleb. “You cool to drive, man? I need to get out of here.”
“Yeah, man.” He glances at Irene, and suddenly they’re flanking me. “Let’s get outta here.”
Sasha shakes her head, lifting her chin angrily. “Don’t you even think about leaving me here.”
“Okay, Sasha, step aside.” Irene tries to shoulder past her. Sasha swells up, her spine going rigid. I push Irene gently behind me.
“Stop,” I tell Sasha. My voice comes out almost like a plea; I don’t have energy for anything more. “Just . . . stop, okay?”
I turn away from her. I don’t look behind me as we walk toward the door. I half expect her to run after me. My shoulders are tensed for it. But she never does, and we get to Caleb’s beater without anyone saying a word.
* * *