Again, Carolyn had that defensive, I’m-pretending-I’m-not-mad-at-you-but-I’m-still-furious tone, almost like she expected Emily to apologize to her for assuming she was being narrow-minded. Emily raised her palms to the sky in surrender. “Okay. Let’s go.”
They were halfway across the parking lot when Emily heard a giggle. The cars cast long shadows onto the ground. There was a rustling sound behind a picnic table. Even if it’s Ali, I’m safe, she thought, glancing at the black town car that had parked discreetly in the back of the lot.
Still, there was something spooky about the fact that it really could be Ali. If Ali walked up to Emily right now, would Emily be vengeful and punishing, or would she smile weakly and accept her apology? In the days since they’d told the cops, Emily had felt guilty twinges. She’d told them everything. The cops would be looking for Ali now. Emily didn’t love Ali anymore, though—the guilt was more a knee-jerk reaction. She wondered how long it would take to go away.
Inside were sounds of a female singing voice and an acoustic guitar. Emily followed Carolyn inside, noting the silvery streamers hanging from the ceiling, the fruity-smelling candles on the bar, the giant tropical fish tank, and the plushy armchairs—which were all filled with girls. There was a stage set up at the back with a dance floor in front of it. Several couples were waltzing. Two girls were making out on the windowsill. But other than that, the bar didn’t seem that different from anywhere else in Hollis—the same beers were on tap, and the same dart boards and pool tables stood at the side. There was even a hockey game on a small screen over the bar.
Carolyn hovered at the edge of the bar. Emily stood next to her, not knowing what to say. A pretty black girl caught Emily’s eye. She raised her hand and waved. Emily looked down, feeling shy. Carolyn still didn’t say a word. Were they just going to stand here all night?
The singer played a Beatles cover, then something by Bob Marley. Suddenly, Carolyn whirled around. “We need to lighten the mood. Want to dance?”
Emily almost burst out laughing. Carolyn totally wasn’t the dancing type. But her sister looked serious, her arms outstretched, her hips rocking back and forth. “Okay,” Emily said, following.
They walked onto the dance floor and started to move to the beat of the reggae song. The pretty black girl who’d waved at Emily sidled up to her and took her hand, but Emily gave her a demure smile. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Don’t we all?” The black girl smiled, showing off the straightest teeth Emily had ever seen. “It’s just a dance, honey. No strings.” Then she handed Emily a champagne flute full of bubbling liquid. “I’m River. And this is on me.”
Emily glanced at her sister, who was grinning at her. Suddenly, amid the hand-holding, cheek-kissing, slow-dancing couples, Emily could almost feel Jordan’s soft skin in her palm, smell the jasmine perfume on her neck. She missed Jordan times a million, but it was only a dance and a glass of champagne. Whatever.
The song morphed into something fast, with a techno beat, and River took Emily’s hands and spun her around. Emily sipped her drink, the fizzy bubbles making her feel lighter and free. A tall girl who had her hair in pigtails coaxed Carolyn into a conga line, and they shuffled around the dance floor, their cheeks shiny and their eyes bright. Emily and her new friend grabbed on and followed them. Someone held up her phone and snapped a picture. The bartender, a muscled girl with arms full of tattoos, tipped back her head and laughed.
Suddenly, Emily noticed a familiar skinny, white-blonde in the crowd. Iris?
She pushed away from Carolyn and wove through the group. The white-blond girl stood in front of an ATM, her back to Emily. Emily touched her bony shoulder, her heart pounding. The girl turned. She had a pointier face, brown eyes instead of green. “Yes?” she said in a friendly enough voice. But it wasn’t Iris’s voice.
Emily’s heart sank. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” Despair fluttered through her. Please let Iris turn up, she prayed to the universe. Please let her be okay.
She went back to Carolyn, trying not to think about it. They danced for three more songs, to the point of sweatiness. Finally, Carolyn careened to the sidelines, breathing hard. River kissed Emily on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd. Emily plopped down on a couch with her sister again, daring to lean into Carolyn’s shoulder. Carolyn didn’t pull away.
“Thanks,” Emily said. “That was a good idea.”
Carolyn’s eyes softened. “So . . . truce?”
“Truce,” Emily said. “Definitely.”
Carolyn held up a drink and clinked it to Emily’s drained champagne glass. Emily peered at Carolyn’s tall glass of dark liquid. It had a familiar smell, and she burst out laughing. “Is that straight-up Dr Pepper?”
Carolyn raised her glass. “Heck yeah, it is.”
Emily clinked her glass to her sister’s, hiding a smile. It seemed like Carolyn was still the same girl from the Rosewood Day French Festival, after all.
And you know what? Emily was kind of glad.
14