Chapter 13
“So I know your sister is, like, super down on parties, but I got an invite to one, and I can’t go on my own. Also, if you don’t want to come with me, I will hurt you. So, you’re coming,” Hannah said after bio the next day.
“My sister is never going to go for it.”
“I figured, which is why I thought I could talk to her and convince her.”
I almost started laughing. That was never going to work, and it was cute that she thought it would.
“It isn’t going to happen, Hannah. You’ve seen my sister in action.” Besides, I didn’t know if I’d really want to go anyway.
“Oh, I have powers of persuasion.” Hannah didn’t seem like the type who would be all over going to a party, so I really wanted to know why she was into it.
“Why do you want to go so much? Is it a guy?”
“No, it’s not a guy. I just feel like I want to get the whole college experience, and that includes going to a frat party at least once. It’s on the college bucket list. I checked.”
I wondered what else was on that list, because I’d probably taken care of most of it already. She was being weird about it, and I knew that it was another thing she wasn’t telling me about. In some ways I felt so close to Hannah, but in others I felt like she had all these secrets that she would rather die than share with me.
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, and I recognized determination on her face. For whatever reason, she had decided that this was a thing she was going to do, and I was going along with it. Hannah had never made any demands on me as a friend, and I was so used to it from my former friends that I felt like a bitch for saying no.
“I might have a lead on a job that wouldn’t suck. If you agree to go, I’ll tell you about it.” It was like one of those game shows where they put a mystery box in front of you. I could win, or I could lose big. But it might be nice to go out and let loose, for real this time.
“I will only say yes if you can convince Renee. Because I’ve already gotten myself into hot water enough, and she’s just starting to loosen up on me and let me do things.”
Hannah put her hand out.
“Deal. I have complete faith in my ability to convince her.” She was confident, that was for sure. “So I’ll be over this afternoon.”
“If you want to come for dinner, you can. We always make plenty, and you wouldn’t be the first person who’s invited themselves over.” Crap, I hadn’t meant to mention Dusty coming over. I knew she’d want to overanalyze it and read more into it and say things that would totally mess with my head.
“I don’t even need to ask who it was. I can figure it out based on the fact that you mentioned it and that you clearly don’t want to talk about it.”
Well...maybe Hannah would turn out to be a sympathetic ear. I only paused for a second before launching into the story of Dusty helping me make dinner and then the airplane note. Of course, I left out the part about my own feelings. She was smart enough to figure them out anyway.
“So I’m just...confused and I don’t know. He’s so...complicated.” I remembered Mase saying something about the complications being the best part of life.
“Is that code for ‘sexy’? Because he is so into you.”
“Then why does he tell me that he isn’t?” I made a frustrated sound that made a few people walking in front of us turn and give me a look like I was crazy. I was going to be late for math, but I didn’t care. It was the kind of class that you didn’t have to attend to get a good grade in. Hell, the tests were open book, and I’d heard the TA would point you to the right answers if you asked nice enough.
“Look, I have to go, but we will pick this up later. What time should I come over?” she said.
“Around six?”
“See you later, girl,” she said, taking off for her next class, which was clear across campus. She was going to have to book it to get there.
I went to math and spent the entire hour and fifteen minutes listening to Maroon 5. They were one of those groups I’d loved for so long, and their music was the equivalent of a hug, or a bowl of chicken soup. Warm and comforting.
I drove back to Yellowfield House in a daze and was less-than-surprised to see Dusty’s car parked on the street.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called as I shucked my shoes off and set my bag down in the entryway.
“How was your day, dear?” Dusty called from the living room, where he was hanging out with Mase.
“Are you moving in now?” I said, grabbing a can of soda from the fridge. “Do you want one?” I would have felt like a jerk not asking.
“Nope, I’m good,” he said right behind me.
“I swear to God, the next time you do that...” I couldn’t think of what I was going to do. “You know what? I won’t tell you what I’m going to do. The anticipation will just kill you, waiting for the moment. I would enjoy that.”
“Easy, Red.”
“Seriously, why are you here? Because I know you have a little bromance, but one half of that isn’t here right now, so it can’t be Hunter. And it can’t be because you love to cook. And it can’t be that you really, really love the house. So what is it?”
I leaned on the fridge. I knew I was asking a question I wasn’t going to like the answer to, but I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to know the truth, whether I liked it or not.
“Maybe it is something else that keeps me coming to this house. Maybe...maybe I’ve been waiting for the right moment to say it out loud.” He wouldn’t look at me, which meant that he might have been telling the truth. I was really tired of him always trying to change the subject, or making a joke out of things.
“I really come here because I’m crazy about...this coffeepot.” He moved around me and stood by the fancy coffeepot that Hunter had probably bought and that cost more than my entire textbook budget for a year.
“I mean, I really, really love it.” He leaned down and pretended to hug it and stroked it fondly.
“Are you shitting me?”
He stood up, his smile faltering for a second.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just...nothing.” He’d done that on purpose to screw with me, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he totally had. I walked past him back into the living room. Mase was busy with a textbook and a highlighter.
“What’s up, Jos?”
“Nothing.” I turned on the television and flipped around. Dusty made sure he entered the room and sat down in the recliner loud enough so that I’d hear him. Jerk.
I purposely settled on an annoying girlie reality show that he would probably never watch in a million years. I turned up the volume. Mase didn’t seem to mind. He was known for his deep focus when he was reading.
We sat in silence as the girls went out shopping and to clubs and fought and made up with their boyfriends. I waited for him to beg for me to change the channel, or get up and leave. Maybe this was the way to get rid of him. Drive him away. I should start playing Nickelback, or that really angry Russian girl-band music I’d randomly found on the internet. I should start talking about menstrual cramps and yeast infections and other girlie shit he wouldn’t want to hear about.
But then I would probably repulse the rest of the males in the house, and I didn’t really want to ruin their lives. Just Dusty’s.
What was it about him that made me so crazy?
He started softly making drum noises in the chair. Now he was messing with me. I turned the show up and he started making louder noises. I still wouldn’t look at him.
“Can we take the volume down a notch? I’m going deaf over here, and I’m a big fan of standing near speakers at clubs,” Mase said, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down. “Are you okay, Little Ne? You’re being kind of...not you.”
“I’m fine.”
I was saved from further explanation by the arrival of Darah and a few minutes later Taylor and Hunter and then Renee.
“So, Hannah’s coming over for dinner. I hope no one minds.”
Everyone chimed in with how they didn’t, and they’d be more than happy to have her whenever she wanted to come over. Yellowfield House was like a sponge, soaking up random people, and I was one of them. Pretty soon they’d have to add a fourth level, or turn the basement into a dorm. I could just picture it with bunk beds lining the walls.
Taylor and Hunter were on for dinner, and they were doing pizza, since everyone could choose what they wanted for toppings and we could make them individually. Hannah showed up just as we were flattening out our individual crusts. Of course Dusty was staying. I wanted to ask him if he was going to just move in, but I was kind of giving him the silent treatment for the thing about the coffeepot.
“Hey, girl. And everyone,” she said, walking through the front door without knocking.
Hannah got a warm welcome. I saw the same look in her eyes that I’d seen earlier when she’d told me about making me go to the party.
“Pull up a ball,” Hunter said after she’d washed her hands. He gave her a ball of dough and a plate to roll it out on. “You just flatten it out as much as you can, and then put it on the pan here and we’ve got sauce and toppings. I recommend using the toppings to make your name, so you remember which one is yours and there’s no confusion. Okay?”
“Got it, chief,” she said, giving him a salute and banging down the dough with a little too much force.
Everyone made their pizzas, and we somehow fit them all in the oven at once. Darah and Mase shooed us all out of the kitchen as they cleaned up, so we had music sex in the living room, with Dusty doing backup drums for Hunter. I kept waiting for Hannah to make her move, but she just sat back and kept yelling out ridiculous song suggestions that made everyone laugh.
It wasn’t until we were all stuffing our faces and Darah and Renee were recounting memories from one of the parties they’d gone to when they were freshmen.
“Speaking of parties,” Hannah said. “There’s this really cool one happening at the Kappa Sigma house and I got an invite and I need a wing woman.”
Her pronouncement was met with silence at first.
“You want to go to a Kappa Sig party?” Hunter said, skeptical.
“Well, I feel like my college experience won’t be complete without going to a frat party. It’s not that I want to go...it’s that I feel obligated to go. And I really shouldn’t go alone, so I need someone to escort me. Hey, Jos, what are you doing on Saturday night?” Was this her master plan? Because it wasn’t very masterful.
“Absolutely not,” Renee said, practically yelling.
“Well, how about this? How about you all come with us? Then we can all go and have a good time and you can supervise us and I can fulfill my dream. Win-win.”
Dusty coughed.
“You okay there, bud?” Hannah happened to be sitting next to him, so she banged him on the back.
“Fine,” he choked out, taking a gulp from his water glass.
“So,” Hannah said, turning back toward Renee. “Are you in?”
All eyes were on Renee.
She put her hands up. “Why do I have to be the deciding one? Someone else say yes or no. I don’t care either way.”
“Could be fun,” Taylor said.
“Right?” Hannah said, latching on to Taylor. Hunter shrugged.
“I guess.”
“What about you, Dare?” Mase said.
“I’ve already been to one, and it wasn’t that bad.”
Hannah smelled a victory.
“I’ll come, too. Keep you girls in line. And you could use some extra muscle on your side,” Hunter said.
“Agreed,” Mase said, nodding.
“I’m in if you’re in, Nene.” Props to Paul for using the nickname at a time like this.
“Well, I guess I have no choice,” Renee said, getting up and putting her plate in the sink. I knew this was going to happen. Now my sister was mad, and I was going to have to try to patch it up. Renee could stay mad for a while; I knew that from experience.
I gave Hannah a look, but she just smiled triumphantly. I shook my head and stood up, following Renee to the sink.
“I told her I didn’t want to go. I have no idea why she wants to go, but she does. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Jos. It’s fine. I’m just... I don’t like being the bad guy. I hate being in that situation. I want to be your older sister, not your mom, and sometimes I cross the line and feel like I have to be your parent.”
“I’m sorry.” Now I felt like absolute shit and I was kind of pissed at Hannah. If she hadn’t been so intent on going to this stupid party, which would probably turn out to be nothing and totally not worth it, Renee wouldn’t be mad at me.
“I’m not mad at you. I know it’s not your fault, Jos.” She turned on the sink and everyone else started bringing their dishes over.
“It’s our turn,” Darah said as she picked up the soap and squirted it on one of the sponges.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it,” Renee said.
“Babe, come on,” Paul said, taking her hand. I knew my sister well enough to know that she was on the verge of tears. He took her hand and led her upstairs and I heard the door to their bedroom shut.
“Can I talk to you, Hannah?” I walked toward the downstairs and jerked my head so we could go down into the cave and have a chat.
“I am so sorry. I had no idea that would happen,” she said as I shut the door and walked down the stairs.
“What did you think was going to happen? That you’d just suggest that her underage sister should go into a snake pit filled with alcohol and boys who want to touch me and things that I was all wrapped up in this summer and she’d just go along with it? Seriously, Hannah?”
We’d been friends such a short time that this was our first fight, and it felt like shit.
Her eyes were wide, her usually sassy demeanor deflated.
“I’m so sorry. I just... I’m so sorry.”
“Why did you want to go so bad?”
She walked the rest of the way down the stairs and sat down on the second to last one. I sat a few steps above her.
“It’s so stupid. You’re going to think I’m a moron.”
“Tell me and we’ll find out,” I said. I just wanted people to stop lying to me, or changing the subject. I wanted the truth, for once.
The truth is the most beautiful thing there is, because it’s the most real.
I didn’t believe him when he’d said that, and I wasn’t sure if I believed it now. The truth sucked a lot of the time.
“Okay, so you remember at the party on Sunday that I was being weird? And then we saw those guys in the Union?” I knew it had something to do with that. I just had no idea to what extent, or how.
“So, this guy came up to me and he pretended to flirt with me, invite me to the party and then he went and told all his friends that he’d flirted with a freak. It was some sort of stupid dare or something. I was pissed, of course, but whatever, you know? But then I saw them again and they just pissed me off. I’m not fucking Gandhi. I can’t deal sometimes. So I had this plan to go to the party and fuck them over somehow. I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to do it. I was going to wait until we go there and, like, pull a Carrie, only, like, get the bad guys this time. You know?”
“Were you planning on bringing a bucket of pig’s blood with you?”
“Obviously not. That was more of a metaphor than an actual plan. I was kind of hoping you’d help me out with it.”
“You are one of the single weirdest people I have ever met.”
“That is not the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
I could imagine.
“Are you mad?”
“A little.” I slid down a step so I was one closer to her. “You could have just told me that’s why you wanted to go instead of orchestrating this crazy plan. Or I would have just told you that those douche bags weren’t worth it and averted this whole thing.”
“I know you’re right. I have this tendency to only trust myself and think that everyone else is going to screw me over. Probably because lots of people have screwed me over. I’d tell you how many times it has happened, but you might not believe some of my stories.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” I had stories, too.
She put her head down on her knees.
“I’ve messed things up, haven’t I?”
“It’s okay. You’re allowed. And it’s not like you did it to be mean, or for some malicious reason. I mean, not a malicious reason against people who hadn’t already been assholes to you.” I wasn’t much for an eye for an eye, but getting those guys back seemed like a valid plan. “But would messing with those guys make you feel better?”
“At first.”
“Have you ever done this to someone who’s been like this in the past?”
She finally lifted her head up and I saw a glimmer of her smile.
“There was this girl who used to call me freak face and would move away from me if I was ever near her. She used to say a lot of other horrible things, and this one day, I’d just had enough and snapped.” She moved up and there was only one step between us.
“So every morning she used to get these giant frozen coffees from the Starbucks, right? I mean, they were huge. I’m pretty sure they were the only thing she ever consumed. I can’t remember seeing her eat. I’m pretty sure they were her bitch fuel. Anyway, so I started buying the exact drinks she got and putting them in her locker. So she’d open her locker and they’d just spill over all her shit. Wow, that sounds so much worse when I say it out loud. It was funny that week when every time after lunch she’d open her locker and one would come flying out at her. She never figured it out.”
I had to admit it was pretty good.
“And you know what? I bet that girl is probably screwing some ridiculously hot guy at some awesome college in Florida or something. Bitch,” she said.
“Or maybe she got knocked up the summer after high school and her parents made her marry him and she had a super ugly baby and she waits tables at a horrible diner and her boss is always grabbing her ass, but she can’t say anything because she can’t afford to lose her job because her baby daddy is an alcoholic who just sits in his recliner and drinks all day.”
She stared at me as if I’d grown an extra head and then burst out laughing.
“Girl, you have a hell of an imagination. You should be a writer.” She wasn’t the first person who’d said that to me. In English, Greg had written comments on my first few prompts that were all positive, and he’d singled me out more than once for recognition. Of course I’d turned into a human fireball every time, and I wished he’d stop doing it.
And because Hannah had told me about one of her little secrets, I decided to share one of mine.
“Hold on a sec.” My laptop was in my room, so I grabbed it and turned it on, clicking on to the internet browser and pulling up my blog. I handed the computer to Hannah without saying anything.
“Okay,” she said, scrolling through my blog. “What is this?”
“It’s mine. My blog. This is my secret identity. My name is Joscelyn Archer and I’m a music blogger.”
Her eyes went wide and she stared at the blog more intently.
“No shit, this is yours? Oh, my God.” I watched her eyes race over my latest album review and then she clicked on some of the tabs and looked at some other things. I waited for the verdict.
“This is so freaking awesome! Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
I shrugged.
“I don’t know. I guess it was just such a personal thing that I was putting out there. I didn’t mind sharing it with strangers because they would never know me or meet me, but sharing it with people I know is something different. What if they thought it was weird? And what if I was bad at it? I mean, I get sucky comments from strangers, but it would be awful if one of my friends or something said it. I don’t know.” I tried to take the laptop away as I felt my ears getting red.
Hannah wouldn’t let me have it.
“No way. You shared this with me and I’m going to take it all in. I told you that you were a good writer, and you are. You’re really, really good. Why are you not an English major?”
Shit. I didn’t know showing her my blog would lead to a rehash of things I didn’t want to talk about.
“Because I don’t fancy working in food service for the rest of my life or ending up living in a refrigerator box on the street.”
Hannah smacked me on the arm.
“You would never end up in a box on the street. Hello? Do you see where you are living right now? Your sister and all her friends would never let that happen. You have a whole fucking houseful of people that care about you and you can’t even see it.”
What was that about?
“I’m not ungrateful. Do I seem ungrateful?”
She sighed and gave my computer back.
“No, that’s not what I meant. That was just my little jealousy monster rearing his incredibly ugly head. Just forget it.”
“You have people who care about you. I care about you,” I said, putting my arm around her. “Once again, I totally sounded like I was into you. But you knew what I meant, right?”
“Totally. And I care about you, too.”
We shared a completely not awkward hug and then started laughing.
“So, a frat party, huh? Did you ever think that the best revenge is living well? I read that somewhere, and I think it would work in this situation. We’ll get you a killer dress and the ladies of Yellowfield House can make you up and then we can go and you can shove it in their faces. If they think they got to you, they win. If you show them you don’t give a shit, then you win,” I said.
She shrugged one shoulder.
“It’s not as good as dumping buckets of pig’s blood on them.” Thinking about Carrie reminded me that Stephen King lived right down the street. I told Hannah and I thought her eyeballs were going to fall out of her head.
“I knew he lived in Bangor, but I didn’t know where.”
“Yeah, we can drive by or something sometime. We could even creepily walk by. But we’d probably get arrested. He’s got security cameras and stuff.”
We both walked back up the stairs and found everyone sitting in the living room, pretending they weren’t waiting for us—except Renee and Paul.
“We didn’t kill each other, and we didn’t devolve into a girl fight of hair-pulling and eye-gouging, if anyone was worried about that,” Hannah said, slinging her arm over my shoulder. “See? All good.”
Everyone seemed to sigh in relief.
“But I think I owe your sister an apology, so I’m going to go do that,” Hannah said, heading for the stairs as if she’d been in the house a hundred times.
I didn’t know if that was a good idea, but I wasn’t going to stop her.
I sat down on the couch next to Taylor, and she leaned her head on my shoulder.
“You know, I’ve never been to a frat party, either. I was a bit curious about the experience, as well.”
Hunter made a grumbling noise.
“What, you don’t think I can defend myself against a few drunk frat guys? I defended myself pretty good against you,” she said.
His eyes narrowed and he pointed at her. “Touché, Missy. Touché.”
Dusty seemed to be watching me. Why hadn’t he gone home yet?
“I’m going to go check on them,” he said suddenly, popping to his feet. “I’m not sure who my money would be on in a fight between Hannah and Renee.” He jogged up the stairs, his pants sliding lower and lower. One of these days I was going to ask him how they stayed up. But he’d make some weird comment and then I’d blush and that wouldn’t be fun. I didn’t need to give him any more fuel.
“I always wished I had red hair,” Taylor said, running her fingers through mine. Hers was so pretty, though. It did that beachy-wave thing that I could never pull off. My hair just sort of...hung on my head.
“So you’d have an excuse to fly off the handle?” Hunter said, picking up his guitar again. It seemed to be his go-to in times of turmoil.
“Ha-ha, you wish,” Taylor said.
We sat for a few more minutes as Mase turned on NESN and checked the sports stats. Both Hannah and Dusty had been gone for longer than I was comfortable with, but it was nearly silent upstairs.
I got up and went for the stairs. I heard the rest of them talking behind me, but I didn’t care.
Being careful to walk quietly and carefully, I approached Renee and Paul’s room. The door was cracked just a bit. Dusty’s voice was the one I heard first.
“She’s going to have so many people watching her, she won’t be able to sneeze without one of us saying ‘bless you.’ Trust me.”
“Why should I trust you?” That was Renee.
I leaned closer and maybe a little too far, catching myself off balance and banging into the door, which slammed open and banged off the wall. Not the most graceful of entrances I’d ever made.
“Sorry, I just came up to see if everything was okay. I didn’t hear anything downstairs, so I was hoping I wasn’t going to come up and find a pile of bodies and one of you holding a knife or something,” I said, trying to save myself.
“Where would someone get a knife in my bedroom?” Renee said, recovering first from being burst in on.
“You do have that really pointy nail file,” Paul said, chiming in. Dusty was composed but Hannah was a little red-faced.
I wanted, desperately, to know what Dusty’s answer to Renee’s question would have been, but I couldn’t admit that I’d been listening.
“Sorry I flew off the handle,” Renee said, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
“No, it’s okay. Mom would have done the same thing,” I said.
“But I’m not your mom. Even though you’ve made some bad decisions in the past, you’ve been doing really great lately, and I haven’t given you enough credit. I’m proud of you.” The praise was going right to my ears, and I could feel them heating up. She couldn’t have done this when we were alone? I mean, I didn’t care if she did it with Paul around, because he was practically family, but with Dusty and Hannah there, it was embarrassing.
Dusty cleared his throat and moved toward the door, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I think that’s my cue to go home. I’ll see you all...at some point. Okay, good night.” He was out of there quicker than you could say “saggy pants.”
“Sometimes I have an issue picking up on social cues, but this isn’t one of those times. I will see you tomorrow, Jos. Thanks for understanding, Renee. ’Bye, Paul.” Hannah scurried after Dusty, and I was left with Renee and Paul.
“I think I’m going to give you two a minute.” Paul left and closed the door quietly behind him. I sat down next to Renee on the bed.
“So what were you talking about when I made my awesome entrance?” I said.
“Nothing. Hannah was just explaining her reasons for wanting to go to the party. I swear, ninety percent of guys are complete and utter douche bags.” She closed her eyes and flopped backward.
“If that’s true, then how is it possible that we have three non–douche bags living in this house? I mean, those are, like, Powerball odds.” I joined her and let myself fall backward and we stared at the ceiling.
“I don’t know. But I’m thinking we should start buying more scratch tickets,” she said.
The comforter was bunched up under my head, so I smoothed it out.
“You ever take that thing off?” She reached for my bracelet, fingering the elephant charm.
“No.” I let her play with it for a second longer and then turned on my side, propping my head on my hand. She did the same. It felt like when we were little and used to build forts out of pillows and sheets in the living room with all the chairs from the dining room. That was before a lot of our siblings entered our lives. All I could remember was that it was pretty quiet back then.
“Sometimes I feel so old,” she said.
“How so?”
“Just between everything with Mom and Dad and with our family being so crazy. Do you remember that time when Mom forgot us at school and we had to hitchhike?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Which time?” It had happened often in our youth.
“It’s a wonder the two of us even managed to turn out relatively normal.” I tapped the side of her head.
“Relatively? Speak for yourself.”
“Hey, ‘relatively normal’ is a compliment for you,” she said, grabbing a pillow and whacking me with it.
“What the hell?” I dived and got a hold of one and smacked her back. And then, because we were sisters, we had a pillow fight. Renee didn’t have down pillows, so there were no feathers, but it got pretty ridiculous anyway.
By the time both of us were out of breath, we had an audience. One of the guys must have heard us yelling and carrying on and thought we were killing each other, but they found us collapsed and laughing in exhaustion.
“So, you’re good, then?” Mase said. “Because you could, you know, keep doing that. I wouldn’t complain.” He grinned, and Darah made a disgusted sound.
“I think the odds are going down,” I said to Renee and she laughed.
“What odds?” Hunter said.
“Never mind,” we both said at the same time.