—
To everyone’s surprise, Sunnybrook defeats Shrewsbury 50 to 44. It’s the first homecoming game we’ve won in four years; as a result, the mood at the dance is even more raucous than normal. Three seniors are thrown out for showing up drunk, and all night teachers have to pry people off each other for violating the no-grinding rule.
Alexa is breathless on the ride back to her house, undaunted by the fact that Mrs. Coughlin reamed her out for dancing inappropriately with Joe Gabriel, even going so far as to threaten to tell Coach.
“I love him,” Alexa says, lowering the window and tilting her face to the cool night air. “I’m going to lick his face tonight.”
“You’re demented. He’s a douchebag.” Rach isn’t looking at either of us, her eyes on the road. She’s been quiet all day. It worries me; her being this moody means she’s more likely to get obliterated at Kelsey’s party.
They bicker all the way to Alexa’s about whether or not Joe Gabriel is a douchebag. I can’t keep up; Brandon won’t stop invading my thoughts. The look on his face when he saw me at the parade.
Was he just nervous, having me in proximity of his girlfriend? Or does he know I talked to Allie last week, and he’s panicking because I asked her about Carly Amato?
Rach, Alexa, and I head straight upstairs when we get to the Santiagos’. I park myself on the edge of Alexa’s bed, peeling off the glittery flats I wore to the dance. We’re staying here tonight; Alexa’s mom is always saying that she knows we drink, and if we’re going to do it anyway, she’d rather we have a safe ride home. Rachel and I don’t have chill moms; they think we’re sleeping at the Santiagos’ tonight and braiding each other’s hair or whatever.
Tom gave me a look and a sigh when I told him and my mom I was staying here.
While Rachel strips off her homecoming dress, replacing it with skinny jeans, I get my phone out of my purse. I have a missed text. I recognize the number as Brandon’s.
I try to control my breathing as I type out a response.
“I can’t wear this.” Rachel is studying herself in Alexa’s full-length mirror, running her hands over her glittery black tank top. “My boobs are falling out.”
“It’s that stupid juice cleanse.” Alexa is winding a lock of hair around her wave iron. My phone vibrates.
I pocket my phone, feeling sick. He knows I talked to Allie. If she told him everything, he may have put the pieces together. He might know I’ve been looking into the murders.
“Here. Wear this. It’s going to be freezing by the lake anyway.” Alexa tosses Rach a boatneck sweatshirt. She tugs it over her tank top. Examines herself in the mirror.
“Just don’t let anything happen to that one,” Alexa says, turning back to freshening up her waves. “I like it.”
Rach’s face darkens, no doubt thinking of the dance team sweatshirt she borrowed from Alexa and lost.
I shrug out of my dress, almost positive Rach and Alexa can hear my heart racing. I want to talk to Ginny, but I’ll have to tell her why Brandon Michaelson has my phone number.
I just won’t respond to him. He can’t push it, can’t try to corner me at school on Monday. Not without having to answer uncomfortable questions about our relationship. The thought soothes me enough to laugh as Mrs. Santiago and Rachel taunt Alexa about Joe on the car ride to the Gabriels’ house.
Kelsey lives on a secluded estate on the north side of Osprey Lake. It’s one of those houses that have a driveway with a gate. Her back deck overlooks the lake and has a hot tub.
Almost everyone is inside, because it’s forty degrees out—probably the coldest night of the season so far. A few brave morons are in the hot tub.
The party is a shitshow. Rachel is drunk within fifteen minutes of our arrival, and Alexa is stuck to the beer pong table like a barnacle. I leave her and make myself a vodka cranberry in the kitchen. Drain it in two gulps, hoping it will loosen me a bit, before I’m dragged into a group of dance team girls.
“We’re doing a shot together,” one of them crows. I don’t fight it; when we’re done I do a lap around the house for Rachel. Unable to find her, I pour another drink and head back to the garage.
Alexa is still at the beer pong table. I watch her play against Joe Gabriel and another senior guy.
“Hey.” Jimmy Varney sidles up next to me, a can of Diet Coke in hand.
“Is there rum in there, at least?” I’m surprised at the effort it takes to get the words out. I look down at the dregs of my vodka cranberry. My head is fuzzy, and I can’t remember if it was my second or third. No, definitely second. I always stop after two. The shot I did, though—that was a mistake.
Jimmy smiles. “Driving,” he says. “Rachel Steiger is looking for you.”
Disappointment needles me. Is that the only reason he sought me out? I’m immediately disgusted with myself. My pathological need for attention from guys is why I’m in this mess with Brandon.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll go find her I guess.”
Jimmy nods to the beer pong table. “Partners next game?”
Before I can respond, my back pocket vibrates. I set my drink down and scramble to get my phone out, my fingertips numb from the cold garage.
I turn away from Jimmy so he can’t see the message from Brandon.
My heart comes to a full stop. The noise in the garage dulls; I lean against the wall for support.
Jimmy rests a hand on my upper back. “Mon, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. I need to get something from inside.”
I head up the stairs into the house at the same moment Rachel is stepping down into the garage, wobbling on her heels like a newborn giraffe. Her eyes, mascara already smudged, lock on me. “Babe! Whatcha doing?”
“I have to go somewhere for a minute,” I say, sidestepping her. “I’ll be right back.”
Rachel pouts. “But where are you going?”
“Outside for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
“Can I come?”
“No.” It comes out more forceful than I intended. “Jesus, Rach, I’ll be right back.”
Rach takes a step back at the forcefulness of my voice. Her cup sways with her, splashing cranberry juice down Alexa’s sweatshirt.
“Nooooo.” She screws up her face like a toddler who dropped her ice cream in the dirt. “No no no!”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Ask Kelsey if she has seltzer.”
“Alexa is going to kill me! I’m always borrowing her shit and losing it or ruining it.”
That’s when something in me snaps. “Rachel. You need to get a grip.”
She bursts into tears. Alexa, who has been watching us from the pong table, looks at me like I’m a monster. I’ll have to apologize later, but right now, I need to get the hell out of here before anyone sees Brandon’s Jeep.
How the hell could he come here? Does he realize how stupid that is? If he’s caught near a high school party—
My gut clenches at the sight of Brandon’s Jeep parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, his lights off. I rap on the window. He lowers it. “Door’s unlocked.”
“I think I’ll stay out here.” I wrap my arms around my midsection.
Brandon sighs. Turns his engine off. “Fine.”
I take a step back as he gets out of the Jeep. He rakes his hair off his forehead and looks at me. “You talked to Allie. What the fuck, Monica?”
“It wasn’t even about you. I didn’t know you two were together.”
“Still,” he says. “Do you realize what could happen if she finds out?”
“I’m not going to tell her anything. Are we done here? Good. Bye.” I suddenly realize that I am drunk and need to remove myself from this situation. When I turn to leave, Brandon grabs my wrist.
“Wait. Why were you asking Allie about Carly Amato?”
My knees are quaking beneath me. I press my legs together to still them. “You and Allie were together when she was the cheerleading coach, weren’t you?”
Brandon is quiet. “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”
“Just answer the question, Brandon.”
“You’re obviously wasted,” he says. “Why don’t you let me take you home?”