“Why didn’t she come get me herself?”
He waved that question away as if it were a puzzle he sure couldn’t answer, one of those mysteries of the universe that scientists chase after their whole lives, like the Big Bang and if it really happened, or life on Mars.
“You know Ruby,” he said. “C’mon, get in the car. The party’s way out at the quarry and we’d better get there before the beer runs out.”
I did know Ruby. I knew her better than anyone could possibly know her, the way no guy could come close to knowing, no matter how long he was with her and what, behind closed doors, he thought they did.
I’d seen her in ways no one else had. I’d heard the names she called every boy she’d been with, names that would haunt them forever if they knew. I’d seen her happy. I’d seen her sad. I’d seen her when we both hennaed our hair, the mud mixed with paprika and egg yolk that dripped down her scalp and turned her ears orange. I’d seen her laugh so hard she peed a little. I’d seen her so mad, she punched a hole in the wall. And I’d seen her after, her knuckles scratched and swollen, but her eyes clear and wide open, when she said it didn’t matter—nothing mattered but her and me.
Yes, I knew Ruby. But even I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t there to meet me and had sent some random ex in a sweaty nineties T-shirt instead.
It wasn’t until I got closer that I realized someone else was inside the car, sitting shotgun in the shadows.
“You remember Owen,” Pete said, motioning at his younger brother. “Aren’t you guys in the same grade?”
“Not exactly,” I said, eyeing his silhouette. “He’s a year ahead of me.”
“Same difference,” Pete said.
I felt it as soon as I piled my bags in the backseat and scooted over to sit behind Owen. That intense craving to be in his orbit, close enough just to see him—even around a corner would do. I felt the hope crawling under my skin. The thrumming pulse. The hot stars crowding my eyes and tightening in a lasso around my head.
Oh, Ruby.
Did she have anything to do with this?
She must have. She’d sent Owen’s brother, Pete, to pick me up, figuring there was a good chance Owen would be in the car. Though I’d been careful not to say it out loud, how I felt about him, I’m guessing she’d always known. No secrets could be kept from her, not anymore, is this what she was telling me?
She had to know I’d be inches away from him for however long it took to drive to the quarry. That maybe I’d have to talk to him, that maybe he’d talk back. I could see the shape of her smile hovering in the seat beside me, so very smug and amused.
Only, there was something Ruby didn’t know: Not even she could make Owen like me.
“O,” Pete said, “you remember Chloe. Ruby’s sister.”
Owen took a second to respond. He let out a breath, which I didn’t know how to read—a sigh of annoyance or a grunt of acknowledgment; it could have gone either way—and then with great effort he turned a millimeter in his seat and said a word to me, just one, “Hey.”
He didn’t turn any more than that, so my only view was a partial profile and the back of his neck. In the time I’d been gone, he must have given up on another mohawk and let it grow in again, because his hair was sticking up, longer in some spots than others. It was too dark to see what color he’d dyed it now.
“Hey,” I said back. Then his brother gave the car some gas and pulled out of the parking lot.
Ruby would want a story of the drive to the quarry; she’d expect it. What she’d want was something fantastic: an action-adventure moment to get our hearts pounding.