“Fine. Have it your way.” I threw the Jeep into reverse. I hated this car, and this town, and the entire state of Florida. I thought of speeding north toward Alligator Alley, of driving us right off the road into the swamp. “I can’t believe you’re going to act like this.”
“Well, you won’t have to endure it for much longer,” he pointed out, slouching in his seat like a baggy pair of jeans. He crossed his arms.
“Honestly? You’re mad at me about Northwestern?”
“I’m not mad at you about anything.”
“Liar.” I sighed. “It’s not like you didn’t know I was going. I said to you right from the beginning that I was getting out of here.”
“No shit.”
“No shit,” I echoed, and we were quiet for a while after that, the radio drowned out by the hot blare of the wind. Sweat trickled grossly down the back of my neck. Finally I just said it. “I want to talk about Allie now.”
That got his attention. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“You want to talk about this now?”
“When would be a better time?” I asked. “We’ve been doing this for six months and we basically haven’t talked about it at all.”
He sighed. The soda bottle was still pressed against his face, and I wondered briefly if his hand might be broken. “What about her?”
“What made you like her?”
“Reena, why do you want to do this?”
“Just answer me.”
“I don’t know!” he said, sighing noisily, head back against the seat. Eventually he started to talk. “She was really … open, I guess. And mellow. Like nothing ever worried her.” I wondered if he was framing this description specifically to hurt my feelings, to highlight the differences between my best friend and me—his old girlfriend and his new one—or if we were just such polar opposites that he couldn’t help but sound that way. “She was just … fun.”
Fun. Right. I took a deep breath, peered at a road sign, took a wide right turn. “Would any of this ever even have happened if she hadn’t …” I trailed off.
“She died, Reena.” He wasn’t looking at me, was staring out the window instead, watching the lights blink by. “You might as well just say it, if we’re going to talk about this. If she hadn’t died.”
“If she hadn’t died.” I swallowed. “Would you ever have wanted to be with me if Allie hadn’t died?”
“What the hell is up with you, huh?” he asked. “Can we not do this?”
“Just answer me!”
There was a long silence. He seemed to be weighing his options. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know! And there’s shit you don’t know about me, and there’s sure as hell shit you don’t know about that night—”
“Well, then tell me!”
“I can’t!”
I didn’t argue. What was I expecting, really? Surely it was dangerous for me to be driving like this. Surely it would have been smarter to pull over, to sort it all out. But I was tired now, and I wanted to go home. I stopped short at a light I hadn’t realized was red.
“Careful,” he said quietly.
“Shut up,” I replied.
We rode without speaking the rest of the way, the croon of the radio the only sound inside the Jeep. You know you done done me wrong…
The sky was a full, heavy purple when I pulled into Sawyer’s driveway. Probably it was going to rain. The yellow house loomed like something haunted. I screwed up my courage. “You need help, Sawyer.”
“Oh, please.” He made a noise, something dismissive, in the back of his throat. “Don’t start that with me.”
“Well, you do!”
“Stop it.”
“You’re not in school, you have half a job that you’re constantly on the edge of losing, you’re wasted all the time—”
“I am not!” he interrupted.
“Honestly, Sawyer, the only thing you have going for you right now is me, and you’re doing everything you possibly can to mess that up, too!”
“Right,” he muttered. “It’s all me messing this up.”
“I can’t help it that I’m going away!”
“It’s not about you going away!” he shouted.
“Then what is it about?”
He didn’t answer. “Well?”
Still nothing.
“Do you like this?” I demanded. “This stupid badass act that you pull all the time? Is it working out for you?”
“You keep asking me that. Do you like always being the good girl? Does that do something for you?”
“It’s not being the good girl, Sawyer! It’s being myself!”
“Well, maybe that’s what I’m doing, too. Just being myself.”
“That’s not you!”
“Maybe it is.”
“Then I don’t know you.”
“Maybe you don’t.” He sighed, opened the door of the Jeep, and slid out.
“Do you anticipate quitting all this bullshit anytime soon?” I called out the window.
He smirked. “What bullshit is that?”
“You know what bullshit!” I wanted to hit him. I wanted to be as mean as I possibly could. “I’ll tell you, Sawyer, the novelty of you is really starting to wear off.”
Sawyer recoiled, then got very still. “The novelty of me?” he asked quietly. And that was the moment I realized I’d gone too far.
“Look, I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t mean—I just—”
“Forget it.”
“Sawyer—”
“I’ve gotta get out of here,” he said, almost to himself. He was on his feet, across the yard, almost before I knew what was going on. His hands were like white spiders in his hair. “I’ll see you around, Reena.”
This time, he didn’t kiss me good-bye.