Farrah scoots in under Yasmin’s right. “Come on, Yas.”
The way Yasmin’s gyrating her hips makes me think getting her to lie down won’t be easy.
“She needs coffee,” Hana says. “Homemade, not conjured. That way we can make sure it’s good and strong.”
“In the cabinet next to the sink,” I say to Hana who then apps downstairs.
Mina and Farrah drag Yasmin to the door, and the shot glass falls to the floor. As they’re about to cross the threshold, Yasmin frees herself from the other girls and takes one hand of Laila’s, hesitates, and takes one of mine.
“You two,” she says with a slur in her voice. “Don’t let them risk it.”
She crushes our fingers, and Mina and Farrah have to force her to let go before they can guide her out into the hallway.
Linked or not, I will never understand Yasmin.
“What was that all about?” I say.
Laila flops onto my bed. “Told you she’s been weird.”
I bend to pick up the shot glass, which, having landed on the rug, thankfully didn’t break. From my crouched position, I see Laila sit up, smile at the framed picture of her, me, and Jenny, and then reach for the drawer of my nightstand.
“Whatever Lalla Isa brought was full of garlic,” she says. “Gross. You still have those mints?”
My stomach lurches the instant Laila’s hand hits the knob. I can’t get up fast enough to stop that third curveball I should have never doubted was coming. All I can do is suck in my breath as Laila sees, for the first time in months, her gold locket with the infinity symbol engraved on the front.
“But how—” Laila looks at me. “You … you found it?”
It’s like my heart is being torn in two. I swear I’m trying to speak, but I can’t find my voice any more than I can find my words.
Laila’s lip trembles. “Azra? Where? When? And why … why didn’t you tell me?”
Forcing myself to say something, anything, I squeak out, “I didn’t exactly find it.” I back up and lean against my dresser. “You see … I … what I mean is…” I can’t defend myself. Because there is no defense for what I did.
Laila’s small forehead creases. “But I don’t understand. You had it all this time?”
I’m desperate to turn away from the betrayal in Laila’s eyes, but she deserves to see me squirm. And I do.
My cowardice takes over, and I lower my gaze to the floor. “Yes, but I can explain. See, when you showed it to me, I was … not in a good place. I was mad at my mother, mad at everyone, and the locket, well, I thought, if only my mom cared about my dad as much as yours, then, maybe, this would be different. Maybe—”
Holding on to my dresser, I inhale and exhale, trying to compose myself before attempting another explanation, equally as flawed, but Laila’s not really listening. Her fingertips caress the locket over and over again, as if she can’t believe it’s real.
The piece of silver tinsel she gave me on my birthday, which I’d placed in the drawer, must have been stuck to the chain, for it floats to the floor as she wraps her hand around the locket and brings it to her chest.
She lifts herself off the bed, steps on the tinsel, unintentionally, I think, before moving in front of me and forcing me to look at her. “That’s why you took mine? Because you don’t have one?”
Choked up, I nod slowly. “But … but I was going to return it, Laila. And then—”
I swivel my head around the room, desperate for someone, something, to blame. But there’s no one.
“And then, I didn’t.”
No one but me.
Laila slips the gold chain over her head. “I was the only one there for you, Azra. The. Only. One.” She closes her eyes but still loses the fight against the tears she’s been holding back since the moment she opened the drawer.
In a harsh voice I’ve never heard before, Laila says, “I put up with all your … your…” She presses one hand against her stomach. When she speaks again, her tone is strong but calm. “With all of your attitude because I know this has always been harder for you than for the rest of us.”
I turn my face to stone. Seeing me cry would only diminish Laila’s hurt. She’s the victim. Not me. Seeing my tears … that’s not what Laila needs. My voice barely above a whisper, I say, “Only because I make it that way.”
It isn’t until Laila’s eyes focus on my rock-hard jawline as she brushes past me that I realize my tears are exactly what Laila needs.
28
I have to go after her. I have to explain. But I can’t. Not now. Not tonight. Not while our whole Zar and my mother’s whole Zar is here. A Jinn here, a Jinn there, everywhere a Jinn. I can’t breathe. I need my escape hatch.
I open my jewelry box and snatch the silver key Henry gave me on my birthday. I fly down the stairs, swing open the front door, and land on Henry’s front steps. My knock on the door elicits no response. Neither does my text. His whole family is still in New Hampshire. But lights are on all over the place. Henry must be somewhere.
The fence that surrounds the backyard is too tall to see over. When I open the locked gate to let myself in, it’s like the pillow that’s being held over my face, preventing me from breathing, is crammed down my throat.
If one could successfully untangle the mass of arms and legs squeezed onto the lounge chair at the shallow end of the pool, they’d find one pale set belonging to Henry and one deeply tanned set belonging to Chelsea.
I don’t have to read either of their minds to know what’s happening here. I’m backing away, desperate to escape unnoticed, when my phone begins belting out the first few bars of my favorite song. My favorite song from my favorite band. The band Henry and I bonded over that first day at the beach. He downloaded the track for my ringtone weeks ago.
The caller ID displays Nate’s name along with his photo.
Henry jumps up, nearly knocking Chelsea to the ground. His shirt’s off, as is hers.