The extra four inches of my boots set me almost eye level with her. “Don’t you have a prom to get ready for?” I ask, hoping she’ll leave.
Her gaze gets all round and innocent. “That’s why I’m here. I went next door to pick up Jeb’s graduation gift. I thought I’d drop it by his place this afternoon so he can wear it tonight.”
I don’t even ask what she could possibly be getting Jeb from a jewelry store.
“What’s this?” She thrusts a hand across the counter and pulls my notes toward her. I try to grab them away, but she’s too fast. “Wonderland, huh? So you’re doing some research on the family rabbits.”
“Good-bye, Taelor.” I wrestle my notes back, accidentally knocking her purse to the floor in front of the counter.
She doesn’t bother to pick it up. Instead, her expression hardens. “No good-bye yet. First we’re going to talk.”
That flittering presence in my brain taunts me to fight back. A surge of adrenaline kick-starts my tongue. “Thanks, but I’d rather talk to a dung beetle.”
Taelor’s eyes widen, as if she’s surprised by the insult. I smile. It feels good having the upper hand for once.
She takes a few seconds to work up a comeback. “You talk to beetles, huh? Glad to know you’ll have someone to play with once Jeb’s gone. And don’t be thinking you can pull your wounded-friend crap to keep him from moving to London with me next month.”
“With you?” My upper hand just got amputated. I feel like I did when I fell skateboarding—like I have a miner’s cap spotlight on me.
“He hasn’t told you yet?” Taelor’s practically beaming. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always so worried about your fragile state of mind.” She leans across the counter so her face is inches from mine. Her expensive perfume stings my nose. “I’m spending senior year at a prep school in London. I’ve been offered a modeling contract there. My dad’s renting Jeb a flat. It’s win-win all around. Jeb can make connections for his art through the people I’ll meet, and we can hang out at his place on the weekends. Cozy, right?”
My chest constricts.
She eases back. There’s panic behind her expression. Why? She’s annihilated my one chance to ever have Jeb’s friendship to myself again. She’s won everything.
“Wow. You really thought you had a chance, huh?” Taelor taunts. “Just because he asked you to pose for a few sketches, that doesn’t mean he’s hot for you.”
My jaw drops. Jeb’s never asked me to pose for anything. There were times he had his pencil and sketchbook out while we were together, but I never would’ve guessed he was drawing me.
“His art is all about death and tragedy, so of course he likes your mortician style. It’s not a compliment. Don’t delude yourself that it is.”
I’m too stunned to respond.
“We both care about him.” Her voice softens, and it’s apparent that for once she’s being sincere. “But do you care enough to let him do what’s best for him? He has way too much talent to get stuck babysitting you for the rest of his life like your poor dad. Don’t you think that would be a colossal tragedy?”
The urge to scratch out her eyes boils in my veins. “At least I have a dad who cares enough to be there.” The words shoot out like poison arrows. Her wounded expression makes me regret them instantly.
The doorbell chirps and the scent of espresso wafts in.
“Oh, fark.” Jen evil-eyes Taelor as the door slams behind her. “What are you doing here?” She stops next to me, setting down a croissant and a fruit smoothie.
Taelor clears her throat and her mask of nonchalance drops back into place. “Alyssa and I were just discussing London and why she won’t be welcome to stay with Jeb and me.” She snatches up her shopping bag. “It stinks here in the land of the dead. I’m out.”
The minute she’s gone, Jenara turns to me. “One of these days, she’s going to slip up and show Jeb her ugly side.”
I pluck at the edge of my croissant. “She’s why he didn’t want me to go. He didn’t want me getting in the way of … them.”
Twisting her fishnet tights with a pen, Jen doesn’t answer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyes fill with regret. “I just found out about her going this morning. And I didn’t know how to tell you when you came in. You’ve got so much crap going on with your mom.”
Folding my Wonderland notes, I study the blank computer again. What does it matter that the website’s gone? Jeb doesn’t have my back anymore, and we’ll never have what we once did.
“Al?”
The sobs I’ve been smothering since my fight with Dad gather in my chest. They burst like a thousand acidic bubbles, silently eating away at my heart. But I refuse to cry.