She gives an abrupt laugh. “Oh my God. Do you think she genuinely thought she was being helpful, or do you think she’s afraid if you look nice, people will think you’re prettier than her?” I don’t say anything because I honestly don’t know the answer. She shakes her head and motions me closer to her.
Without waiting for permission, Emery pulls the band out of my hair and scratches her fingers through all the hair spray, shaking my hair like she’s trying to bring it back to life. Eventually she knots it back up, looser this time, so that the bun sits on top of my head instead of somewhere near my neck.
“Fixed,” she says, giving me an encouraging smile.
Emery leads me across the street. I try to remind myself it’s okay. This is what people my age do—going to parties is completely normal.
Adam seems to be walking closer to us as we near the door, his eyes falling on me curiously. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
I feel myself flinch, and I inhale his cologne. It smells like spice and pepper.
“Government, right?” Marc says, pointing a finger at me.
Caitlyn shoves him with a hand decorated with too many bracelets. “Like you’ve ever actually managed to show up to government.”
Adam snaps his fingers. “Ah, I remember you now. Kelly! You used to let me copy your math homework on the bus.” He reaches for me like he’s trying to give me a hug.
“That’s not her name,” Emery growls, tugging at my arm like she’s helping me escape. She leans in to my ear. “He is literally always the drunkest person at every party. Just ignore him.”
Before I know it, we’re walking into Lauren’s house, and a mash-up of different sounds floods my ears. A girl wearing a fedora hat is singing “Skinny Love” and strumming her guitar in the dining room. Next to her is an intense game of beer pong. And to the right of them is a group of people playing a video game in the living room.
Cassidy and Gemma spot us right away.
“You made it!” Cassidy exclaims, brushing a strand of hair from her shiny forehead. She’s swaying a little, and I don’t think it’s because of the music.
I can feel Gemma staring at my Spider-Man shirt like she’s trying to understand why I’m wearing it. Eventually her eyes find mine. “I like your hair today,” she says.
I laugh and glance at Emery, but Gemma’s attention has already moved on to someone else. Pretty soon she and Cassidy are talking rapidly to some other girls about people I don’t know.
Someone must have lost the Xbox gunfight because there’s a series of angry groans near the television. The girl with the guitar starts singing another song. I feel painfully out of place.
Emery says something next to me, but I can’t hear it over all the noise.
“Do you want a drink?” she repeats, louder this time.
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll be right back,” she says, and as soon as she disappears into the next room, I feel like someone has yanked my social crutch out from under my arm. I’m floundering. All I can think about is Emery coming back so I can have someone to hide behind.
I look back at Cassidy and Gemma, but they’re still deep in conversation. I feel weird just standing there listening. Do other people do that? Move from circle to circle, socializing with everyone like they all know each other? It seems invasive. I don’t know the rules.
I want to leave. I don’t belong here. But I can’t go home—Uncle Max is probably still there, eating dinner at our family table, talking to everyone like he’s the favorite relative they’ve all been missing. It’s making me feel so distracted. Thinking of him being so close to my family makes me feel like he’s too close to me.
I wish Mom would make him stay away for good.
I feel myself still looking around anxiously for Emery. I need my friend right now.
I realize it’s probably been only a matter of seconds since she left, but it honestly feels like hours. I don’t think I can stay here all night. Not with everything closing in on me because there are literally people everywhere who I don’t know and they are having such a good time and, oh my God, what am I doing here?
I spin around toward the door, but before I reach the handle, a voice stops me.
“Kiko?”
It’s a smooth voice. A sweet voice. Like a glass bell or melted caramel. And it knows my name.
My stomach feels light and foreign. I know this voice. I know bells and caramel. I remember the way he says my name.
I’ve never forgotten.
CHAPTER FIVE
Iturn around. Even though he’s shot up by at least a foot and his skin looks baked by the sun, I know it’s Jamie Merrick. With scruffy dark hair that hangs above two aquamarine eyes, a sturdy runner’s build, and a partially unbuttoned shirt that’s drawing attention to the area between his neck and chest, he’s completely different from the way I remember him and exactly the same all at once.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” he says.
It feels like two comets have just collided headfirst into each other, and the aftershock of two hundred earthquakes rolls through my chest.
I’m not listening to the guitar cover songs or the video game explosions or the plastic bounce of Ping-Pong balls leaping from the table. I’m staring up at him like I haven’t seen him in years.
Actually, I haven’t seen him in years. Just in my daydreams, and in the handful of blurry photographs from Taro’s eleventh birthday party. I stole all the ones of Jamie from a box in Mom’s closet because I didn’t think she’d miss them, and also because I’m the one who was always in love with Jamie. I deserved them.
“You got taller,” he says with a harmless smile.
“You too,” I reply, but it comes out in more of a harsh whisper.
Jamie looks at his drink. After a pause, he asks, “How’s Taro? Is he here with you?”
My heart plummets. Of course he would ask about my brother. I’ve never been just Kiko—I’m Taro’s sister, or Emery’s friend, or Angelina’s daughter, or the weird girl from government class.
“He’s not here,” I say. “But he’s fine.” At least I think he is. Taro and I don’t usually talk unless we’re arguing about something, but I don’t tell Jamie that. If he remembers me at all, he’d remember my relationship with my brothers.
Jamie raises his brow. “I hope he’s being nicer to you these days. I still remember that time you punched him right in the face. Over a song, wasn’t it?”
I feel my face flush with an overwhelming amount of heat. He remembers. “I punched him because he wouldn’t stop turning off my stereo,” I correct nervously.
“You broke his glasses.”
“Yeah. I did.”
We both laugh at the same time. His laugh is soft and gentle, while mine is awkward and loud.
I quickly clear my throat, and my cheeks darken.
“I thought you moved to California,” I say. “I mean, I know you did. But I didn’t know you were back in town. I mean, obviously, because we haven’t talked in years.” God, Kiko, stop talking.
He shifts his feet and taps his finger against his cup. “I’m back visiting family. My semester ended last week, so I’m already on my summer vacation.”
“Oh, right. That’s cool.”