PRESENT DAY
I am crammed into the backseat of Meghan’s shitty, beat-up Corolla as she slowly drives us across town toward Austin’s house. It’s coming down dark now and Rachael is controlling the music from up front, while I’m stuck in the back with Tiffani and Eden on either side of me. I have a box of beer in my lap, and it’s tempting to crack another one open just to help me survive this journey. I lock my eyes on the parking brake and fold my arms across my chest, keeping to myself.
Tiffani and Rachael are doing what they do best: gossiping and wondering who will be at the party. They refer to a couple people as losers, but I’m not listening. I never, ever do. I don’t have the energy for it.
Instead, I am thinking about Eden. She’s on my right and I can sense her looking at me, so I glance over, and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second before we both look away again. Yeah, she was definitely staring. It’s weird, I guess. I figure she’s not used to this either. This whole stepsibling thing. I’m trying to figure her out the same way she seems to be trying to figure me out, but I’m not really getting anywhere.
I peek at her again, and because she is staring out of the window now instead, I take the opportunity to fully study her. Her dark hair is straight and lays flat against her back, though thick strands keep falling over her shoulders and framing her face. She’s wearing a lot of makeup. Eyelids painted dark, like smoke. Thick lashes that seem to grow longer every time she blinks. Red lips. I have only seen her a handful of times so far, but I’ve seen enough to know that this isn’t her.
She senses me watching her, because she turns her eyes back to me, but I’ve already glanced away again. She catches me more than once during the rest of the journey, mostly because I can’t help it. It gets pretty awkward after a while, so I eventually stop looking. I focus on staring straight ahead at nothing in particular again for the rest of the ride, never saying a word, even when Tiffani presses her body against mine and starts touching my thigh.
It’s a relief when we finally pull up outside Austin’s place. I don’t even know the guy that well, but of course, he knows us. It’s still super, super early, barely eight thirty, but already the place is bouncing. There are several cars parked out on the street and there are people standing on the lawn talking to one another. As soon as Meghan cuts her engine, I grab my beer and follow Tiffani out of the car, stretching my legs. I can hear the music already, and I fight the urge to groan. I don’t want to go through all of this again. The excessive drinking, the loud music …
“Hey, Tyler!” someone calls out, and when I glance up, I spot Austin himself rushing across the lawn to greet us. He’s a short guy, but his grin is big enough to make up for it. He waves his beer at me and, knowing I have to put on a show for the next however many hours, I give him a fist bump. “Glad you could make it,” he tells me.
“Yeah.” I bet he is. I bet he’s glad Tiffani’s here, too. We are a permanent fixture at parties, and if we turn up, then it pretty much verifies that the host isn’t a loser. I nod to my beer, desperate to open another. “Kitchen?”
He points to the house and smiles wider. “Yeah. Dump it and come join us.”
I begin to walk, heading across the lawn toward the front door, but I do throw a final glance back over my shoulder at the girls. Tiffani is saying something to Austin, and Meghan is trying to ram her car keys into her purse, and Rachael is staring at the bottle of vodka in her hand. Eden, however, is wearing her usual unreadable expression but her eyes are wary as she takes everything in. She’s going to regret coming. I just know she will.
Shaking my head, I continue into the house, murmuring heys to everyone who nods at me. A few hours ago, I was in my room, thinking. And now I’m here, at another party, buzzed off beer, acting. I hate this. I hate that this is what I have to do to forget.
I navigate my way through the house, keeping my head down as I enter the kitchen. There is alcohol covering every countertop and the floor is already sticky with spilled drinks, and I accidentally step on a shot glass, crushing it. I kick the broken pieces out of the way in aggravation.
“I’ve been wondering when you were gonna show up,” someone says, and Kaleb steps in front of me. His eyes are bloodshot, his smile is lazy. He’s high, but that’s not surprising. I can’t remember the last time I saw him sober. “Austin’s letting us do our thing as long as we stay out of the way, so we’re in the fucking backyard shed.” He begins howling with uncontrollable laughter as he reaches up to open the first cupboard he finds, and he steals a packet of cookies. I watch in silence as he stuffs one into his mouth, closes his eyes, and sinks into euphoria. “Oh my God. Amazing,” he mumbles. He opens his eyes again and tries to focus on me. “So, are you joining? It’s good shit tonight, I swear. Look at me! I’m baked.”
Right now, I really could do with some relaxation. Just a couple hits to put my mind at ease, to numb it. I grab a bottle of beer, pop the cap on the edge of the worktop and then nod. “Count me in.”
Kaleb smirks with delight, only because he knows he’s about to make some money off me, and then he turns around, cookies in hand, and heads back through the house. I step behind him, swigging at my beer, when someone grabs my shoulder just as I’m about to follow Kaleb outside into the backyard. I pause; it’s Jake.
“You finally made it,” he says. “Where’s the girls?”
“Just coming,” I answer bluntly. I don’t want to talk to Jake. I don’t even like the guy, and I just want to smoke a joint. I begin to walk away, but he grabs my shoulder again and pulls me back.
“Where are you going?” he questions, raising an eyebrow. He glances at Kaleb as he continues across the backyard, and then back at me. I think he already knows the answer.
“Where the fuck do you think I’m going, Jake?” I snap, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. God, I wish my friends would leave me alone sometimes. I’ve already been lectured by Rachael tonight, and I don’t need Jake questioning me too. It’s not like they don’t know I smoke.
“Alright, asshole,” he mutters, then finally walks away.
I head outside and stride across the yard after Kaleb toward the shed in the corner. Talk about a drug den. I can smell the weed in the air and hear the laughter before Kaleb has even pulled open the door. And when he does, I’m not surprised to spot Clayton and Mason inside. I’ve smoked with them before. I share some classes at school with them, too.
“It’s about time you made an appearance,” Mason says. He’s stretched out on a lawn chair in the corner, his feet resting up on the lawnmower and an almost burnt-out joint in his hand. He looks scruffy, but whatever. He’s high as shit. They all are.
“I know.” I grab my wallet from my pocket, pull out fifteen dollars, and offer it to Kaleb. Usually, I prefer to buy from Declan directly, but he’s been laying low lately, so I will have to steal a gram off Kaleb instead. “Hook me up?”
“Maaaaan,” Clayton murmurs. He’s leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air around us. There’s not a lot of room in here, so it’s extremely cramped. “Blissful.”
Kaleb takes my money, fumbles around in his pockets for a minute, then presents me with two prepared joints. “Already rolled two for you,” he says proudly. “I knew you’d be game tonight.”
I take them both from him and study them in my hand. Then I think, Fuck it. “Light me up,” I order, and Kaleb pulls out a lighter and sets one of the joints alight for me. He watches closely as I press it to my lips, eagerly waiting for my approval, and I inhale, taking that first hit.
The smoke fills my lungs, the burning familiarity satisfying my desire. I haven’t smoked in a week, so it feels real nice. I hold the smoke in my lungs for several long seconds, and then I exhale, feeling the difference already. It’ll take me a lot more hits and another five minutes or so before the buzz truly hits me, but I can feel it, that weight over my shoulders losing its pressure.
“Hey, where the fuck did you get those cookies?” Mason asks, shooting upright in his lawn chair. He points his joint at Kaleb, and Clayton opens his eyes.
“Stole ’em from the kitchen. Munchies are kicking in,” Kaleb explains, and all three of them burst into laughter. I’m not high yet, so I don’t laugh, though I do crack a smile.
I lean back against the wall and close my eyes, taking another drag of the joint, focusing on my breathing. Just relax.
“Declan came through for us tonight, by the way,” Kaleb murmurs, nudging me with his elbow. When I open my eyes, he nods down to the small table next to Clayton. In perfect, neat lines, there is coke. I stare at it for a minute. “I told you it’s good shit.”
“Man . . .” I shake my head slowly. Tempting, but no. I’m not that desperate. I have done it before. I do it often, I guess. But only on the nights where I can’t take things any longer, and ever since I took a bad trip once, I’ve been more cautious. I hold up a hand in surrender. “Count me out for tonight.”
“Laaaaame,” Mason drawls, rolling his eyes. “We were waiting for you!”
“More bumps for us then,” Clayton jokes, and again, the laughter continues. The three of them are so stoned, and I wish my own buzz would hurry up and kick in. That’s why I take another hit, holding the smoke in my lungs for as long as I possibly can before it burns too much, then I tilt my head back and release it into the air.
I am just about to close my eyes again, to relax into the warm sensation, when the door of the shed swings open. We are so fogged out in here that it takes me a minute to see who is here to join us.
Shit.
It’s Eden. Her hand is over her mouth and she coughs, stepping back, retreating away. “Is that weed?”
“No, it’s cotton candy,” Mason jokes, and Clayton and Kaleb immediately howl with laughter as though it’s the most hilarious reply they have ever heard in their entire lives.
I don’t join in again, not because I’m not high yet, but because there is panic running through me. I need Eden to know who Tyler Bruce is, but I don’t want her to know about this. Not when she lives in the same damn house as me. Not when she can tell my mom. Quickly, I try to hide my burning joint behind me, hoping she doesn’t notice that I’m involved.
“Are you serious?” she asks, staring at me wide-eyed. Clearly, I am too late. She’s already seen it, and I know that there is absolutely no way I can deny it.
“Dude, get this chick outta here,” Clayton mutters, waving his joint at her. I don’t look at him, though, because my attention is all on Eden. Her eyes are fixed on only me as they dilate with complete and utter disgust. “Unless she wants to come in here and keep us company.”
“Bro,” I murmur, turning to fire Clayton a look. I swallow hard. Play it cool. Be Tyler Bruce. You don’t care. “You really want that kid in here?”
Clayton and Kaleb chuckle while Mason starts coughing to death in the corner. Of course, this is amusing to them, but to me, it’s far from it. I am frozen in place, wondering how the hell I am supposed to get myself out of this situation.
“Who the hell is she?” Clayton finally asks, and I’m definitely not going to answer him. I can only imagine the number of jokes they would crack if they knew she was my stepsister. “Has no one taught her the rules?” He turns to Eden and I don’t like the way he grins at her. “No interrupting, babe. Get the fuck out of here unless you’re here to ball with us.” He steps toward her and holds out his half-smoked joint, offering it to her as if she would actually take it.
Automatically, I step in between the two of them, facing Clayton, Eden behind me. “What the hell are you doing?” I quickly put out my own joint and shove it into my pocket, saving it for later, and then narrow my eyes. “C’mon, Clayton, where’s your common sense?”
“Offering her a hit is common sense,” he says. He moves his joint back to his lips and takes another hit, though I don’t think he needs it. “It’s called good manners. It would be rude not to. Am I right, new girl?” He looks at Eden again over my shoulder.
“Dude, take the damn hint,” I growl under my breath. He is pissing me off now, mostly because I don’t like the way he is talking to her. “She doesn’t want it. Look at her.” I cast a glance over my shoulder at Eden again, and my chest tightens when I see the way she is looking at me. Most people look at me the same way, with that horrified, disgusted look on their face. But seeing that same expression in Eden’s eyes is different, like I am seeing it for the very first time, and I can’t figure out why, for a second, I actually feel disappointed in myself. Those hits I just took must be kicking in. I am feeling lighter, feeling fuzzy.
“Alright, alright. Just get her outta here then. Why do we have some random kid in here anyway?” Clayton asks.
“I’m wondering the same thing,” I mumble, then turn around to face Eden directly. She is shaking her head at me, and that feeling of disappointment rises in my chest again. I need to get her out of here, away from these morons, away from me. I step toward her, but I hit my hand against the table next to us. It catches Eden’s attention.
There is a silence for what feels like forever. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Shit. This is the worst time for my high to be kicking in. I need to maintain a clear head in order to bullshit my way out of this, because I know Eden isn’t stupid. I know she is staring at the coke on the table, and I doubt she thinks it’s sugar.
“Oh my God.” Her face pales with disbelief and I can see questions flashing across her face one by one. She parts those lips of her, her mouth open. “Oh my God?”
“Dude, seriously, I’m not kidding,” Clayton orders, his voice sharp now. “Get her out of here before she calls us out to the cops or something.”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s leaving.” Desperate to get Eden away, I grasp her elbow and guide her away from the shed and across the yard until we’re a safe distance away. It feels like it takes me twenty minutes to walk her across the lawn, but in reality, it’s more like twenty seconds.
“You’re unbelievable,” she hisses at me. She shakes my grip off her arm and then stares me straight in the eye. “Coke? Really, Tyler?”
I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her say my name, and I figure it’s the weed, but it sounds like absolute heaven in that husky tone of hers. I want her to say it over and over again for the rest of my life. Yep, I’m stoned.
My gaze meets hers and I am silent for a while. I’m not sure how to explain myself without telling her that my life is a mess. I cover my face with my hands and groan out loud. “This isn’t the place for you,” I tell her. I shove my hands back down into my pockets and I can feel those two joints waiting for me. Right now, I need them more than ever. “You should—you should go back inside.”
Eden only continues to stare at me with her mouth agape, shaking her head. She looks furious, but I don’t know why. She doesn’t even know me. She shouldn’t care, but it’s clear that she does, and I have this awful feeling that she’s going to tell my mom about this when she gets home. Mom already knows that I smoke, though she doesn’t know just how often, and she certainly doesn’t like it. The coke, however, she has no idea about. I’m not sure how much longer it’ll stay that way.
I turn around and head back toward the shed—another twenty-minute walk to my buzzed mind—and the guys are waiting for me with curious expressions. There’s no way I’m telling them who Eden is, so instead I stick to being Tyler Bruce, and I roll my eyes and say, “Got rid of that loser.”
More laughter erupts and the shed feels as though it is shaking. I laugh too this time, but not for long, because we are interrupted when I hear Dean’s voice call out, “Dude, come on. That’s low. Chill out.”
I flash my eyes over at him. He’s standing a few feet away from us, shaking his head in disapproval. He looks sober as hell, but that’s not surprising. Dean’s like that. He’s a nice guy, always keeps himself in check, always looks out for people. That’s why he has so many friends. Real ones.
“Shut the fuck up, Dean,” I mutter, and he just sighs in reply and sprints across the lawn toward Eden. I stare after him, my eyebrows furrowing as I watch the two of them talk. Have they even met yet? They talk for what I feel like is an hour, but they’re too far away to hear what they’re saying.
“C’mon, get lighting up,” Kaleb urges, tossing me his lighter.
I swiftly catch it and then reach back into my pocket to pull out my joint from earlier. I place it between my lips and relight it, and just as I’m about to take another hit, I see her again. Eden, watching me over her shoulder as she lingers by the door to the house. I wish she didn’t care. I wish she’d just shrugged, rolled her eyes and left. I don’t know her well enough yet to predict what she will do with this information. In fact, I don’t know her at all, so now I’m worried she is the type of girl who will tell. And then I’ll be kicked out of the house. And then I’ll need to find a way to survive.
I look away from her, dropping my eyes to the ground, and Clayton says something as he shoves a new beer into my hand, but his words don’t register. I can still feel Eden’s gaze on me, so I move further into the shed, away from the door, out of her sight so I can no longer see that disgusted look on her face.
The guys are laughing again, but I don’t know why. I am focused on something else now. I know I swore to Tiffani that I wouldn’t do it, but I don’t care about her enough to feel bad about breaking any promises. Tyler Bruce does whatever the hell he wants.
I glance sideways at Kaleb, then elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. “Tell Declan I’m in,” I murmur into his ear. “I’ll sell his shit for him.”
* * *
When I wake in the morning, my head is a little foggy. It takes me a long minute of squinting at the sunlight streaming in through the window to realize that I’m not even in my own room; I’m in Tiffani’s. Quietly, I groan and roll over, and I almost flinch straight out of my skin at the sight of Tiffani already awake, dressed and sitting cross-legged on the bed next to me. Her blue eyes are boring into mine.
“Mom wants to kill you,” she states. I could think of better ways to be told good morning.
I raise an eyebrow, still half asleep. “Huh?”
“You cleared out half our refrigerator last night,” Tiffani explains, pursing her lips. I don’t know what time it is, but she already has her hair and makeup done. “And we woke her up when we got back here, so now she’s pissed, and I need to take you home ASAP.” She swings her legs off the bed and gets up, then begins scooping my clothes up from the floor, throwing them at me at full force. My jeans almost knock me out.
“And take Eden’s shit home too,” she huffs and begins tossing even more clothes at me as she drifts around her room. She throws me a phone too. “Oh, and thanks for fucking embarrassing me last night. I just love having a drugged-up boyfriend.”
I force myself to sit up, rubbing my eyes. I feel so groggy, but I know it’s just from my comedown. I wonder what happened last night. I remember smoking all night and laughing a lot. I remember drinking too many beers. But I don’t remember coming home with Tiffani. I don’t remember what happened to Eden. “Where did she go last night?” I ask, squinting at Tiffani again. My eyes are a little sensitive, and my throat is dry. I’m so thirsty. “Eden?”
“She left after, like, half an hour,” Tiffani says casually, disinterested. “How lame is that? Dean took her home, now it’s my turn to take you home, so get your ass into gear.”
“What time is it?”
“Only eight.”
“Eight?” I repeat, glaring at her now. We probably only got here a few hours ago. “Fucking eight?”
“Do you want my mom to kill you?” she asks, spinning around to give me a stern look. Her hands are on her hips, her brow arched high. “Do you want me to kill you? Because the longer I have to look at you, the more I want to. So let’s go.”
Groaning, I slip on my shirt from last night and haul my ass out of bed. I could do with a few more hours of sleep, and I am dreading going home now. Mom hates it when I don’t come home without telling her first, so she’ll be pissed about that for starters, plus the fact that I snuck out last night too . . . She definitely isn’t going to be happy. And if Eden has told her what she saw last night, then I may not even have a home to return to.
I pull on my jeans and before I’ve even had the chance to finish stepping into my shoes, Tiffani is latching onto my arm and tugging me desperately toward the door. I barely manage to grab Eden’s clothes in time, but I do, and I allow Tiffani to drag me downstairs without resisting her rough hold. Her house is silent, so I figure her mom must still be asleep, which explains why she wants me out of here so fast.
The morning sunlight burns my eyes as we step outside and by the time I am slumped in Tiffani’s passenger seat, I am already falling back to sleep. It’s nice, though, because it means that she doesn’t even attempt to talk to me. I’ve had enough of her for one weekend, so now I could happily go a couple days without her, though I know that’s unlikely to ever happen. I seize the opportunity I have though to take a ten-minute snooze before I’m forced to face up to Mom.
“Alright, get out,” Tiffani says a short while later, and when I peel my eyes open, I realize we are parked outside my house.
Here we go, I think. It’s time to explain myself to Mom. I sit up and pull down the sun visor to check my reflection in the mirror. My eyes look fine, though they’re dry. I blink a couple times and then close the visor again, opening the car door. I swing one leg out and pause. “I’m sorry, you know,” I say, glancing back over at Tiffani. I don’t really know what I’m even apologizing for yet, probably for getting high all night, but I do know that I don’t want Tiffani to be mad at me. I’ve grown too comfortable having her around, and even though I know she would never break up with me, I still hate the thought of her giving me the cold shoulder. It’s like she knows this and does it on purpose just to punish me for stepping out of line.
“Go, Tyler,” she mutters, staring ahead at the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel. How high was I last night? What stupid shit came out of my mouth?
Whatever it is that I’ve done to irritate her this time, I’m too hungover to stay and figure it out right now. I just want to climb into bed, pull my sheets up over my head and sleep for the next twelve hours. That’s why I don’t say anything more as I step out of the car. Tiffani doesn’t wait around. As soon as I’ve shut the door, her foot is on the gas and she’s off, flying down the street.
With Eden’s clothes still in my hands, I stare at my house for a moment. And then I sigh. I’m used to Mom’s yelling, and even though I hate letting her down, I’ve learned to tune it out. It will last for five minutes, max, and then she’ll give up. At least that’s how it usually goes.
I walk up to the front door, my steps slow and almost reluctant, and I try the handle. It’s unlocked. I squeeze my eyes shut, take a deep breath, then push the door open. There is silence at first as I creep into the hall, clicking the door closed behind me again as quietly as I possibly can, and I have my gaze set on the staircase, on a clean getaway to my room, but then I hear it, the worst sound in the world: “Tyler?”
I freeze on the spot and surrender to my fate. I wait in the hall, and a few seconds later, Mom walks through from the kitchen.
“Finally,” she breathes, pressing her hand over her heart as though she’s been worried sick. I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve never done this before. Her expression quickly hardens and she throws her hands up in frustration. “Where the hell have you been, Tyler?”
I glance down at the floor and shrug. “Out,” I answer. Usually, Mom can see straight through me anyway, so there’s not much point wasting my breath.
“Where?” she presses.
“What does it matter? I’m home now.”
Her blue eyes are full of both anger and concern, which is what I hate the most. I want her to think I’m okay, even though she knows I’m far from it. I wish I could be okay, just for her, just so she doesn’t have to go through this. “Have you been out drinking all night?”
“No,” I say, running a hand back through my hair. It’s a mess. “I slept at Tiffani’s place.”
“And before that?”
“Mom, I’m tired,” I mumble, hoping she’ll feel sorry for me, but it’s a lame attempt.
“Tyler.” She goes quiet as she runs her eyes over me, and the expression in them changes. Not anger, not concern, just that same old look of disappointment that she gives me too often. “You’ve been smoking, haven’t you?”
“What? No,” I lie, instinctively stepping back from her.
“You think I can’t smell it?”
I glance down at myself. I’m wearing last night’s clothes. I haven’t showered. Of course I stink of weed. I’m a fucking idiot. “Alright, I was at a party. Some guys there were smoking. Not me,” I blurt out quickly, and because I don’t know what else to say, I brush past her and attempt to make my escape up the staircase.
“You’re lying to me,” I hear her state, her voice quivering. “God, Tyler. Why? I can’t deal with this!”
I stop and turn back. She has her hands pressed to her face now, and I want to hug her, to tell her that I’m sorry, that I need to do all of these things to cope, that I love her and wish it was all different. But then Dave decides to get involved. He steps into the hall as though he’s been listening the entire time and says, “Did he finally show up?” in the most patronizing of tones.
I narrow my eyes at him. I’ve never liked Dave since the moment Mom first introduced him to us years ago, and it’s not just because I don’t like father figures. It’s because Dave’s an asshole who has never once taken the time to get to know me better. He knows my history, but yet he still comes along with all his condescending remarks and eye rolls that just make me want to hit him square in the face. “Yep, here I am,” I reply, flashing him a grin.
“And what exactly is it that makes you think it’s okay to stay out all night?” he questions, moving closer to Mom. He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes her for support. “You’re grounded. You weren’t even supposed to leave the house last night.”
I pull a face at him. It makes me want to laugh whenever he attempts to act strict with me. He may be my stepdad, but I still don’t believe that gives him the right to act like my parent. “Dave, please do me a favor. Give up.” Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes at him, and I spin around and storm up the staircase.
“Tyler!” Mom calls after me. “Get back here.”
I ignore her, instead muttering under my breath about how much of an asshole Dave is. I have my eye on my bedroom door when I realize I’m still holding Eden’s clothes. I also realize that, unbelievably, Mom didn’t just yell at me for the coke. Which means she doesn’t know. Which means Eden didn’t tell her. At least not yet.
I come to a halt outside of Eden’s room for a second, and then I push the door open without even knocking and I walk straight in. Not only do I need to give her her stuff back, I also need to talk to her.
She’s awake, luckily, and is just pulling a hoodie on over her head when I enter. It doesn’t take long for her gaze to sharpen into a glare. “Did you know there’s this thing that exists called—oh, I don’t know—privacy?”
I close the door behind me and tilt my head to one side, studying her. She’s obviously still mad at me from last night. “Here’s your stuff,” I mumble, feeling awkward as I dump her clothes down on the end of her bed. Then, I fumble around in my pockets for her phone, stepping forward and offering it to her. “And your, uh, phone.” I can’t meet her eyes, but I like to think it’s because I’m tired and not because I feel ashamed.
“Thanks,” she says bluntly.
The tension is almost unbearable as she stares at me, inscrutable but most likely judging me for every single action I took and every single word I spoke last night. I feel so scrutinized by her that I turn to leave her room, but then I remember that there’s something I’m forgetting.
“Look,” I say, turning back around. “About last night—”
“I already know that you’re a jerk and you do drugs and that you’re pathetic as hell,” she cuts in quickly. Even in that low voice of hers, the words cut straight through me. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”
At least she knows who Tyler Bruce is. He’s a jerk, yeah. He gets high, yeah. He’s pathetic? No, wait. That’s not Tyler Bruce. That’s me, and suddenly I feel exposed almost, like she can see straight through me. But I don’t know how that’s possible. “Just—just don’t say anything.” God, I even sound pathetic.
Eden crosses her arms over her chest and her gaze softens a little. She looks at me for a while, almost with amusement, and then says, “Are you asking me not to snitch?”
“Don’t tell my mom or your dad or anything. Just forget about it,” I beg, and I really do feel like a fucking loser. Here I am, begging some girl I barely know not to ruin my life even more than it already has been.
“I can’t believe you’re involved in that stuff,” she says quietly, dropping her eyes to her phone and then throwing it onto her bed. Her gaze meets mine, but I can’t remember what color her eyes are. She’s too far away to be able to tell. “Why do you even do that? It really doesn’t make you look cool if that’s what you’re trying to do.”
I do a lot of things to look cool, to look like I have everything figured out, but getting stoned isn’t one of them. If only she knew I did it to numb myself from all of the bullshit I have to deal with, to forget about everything Dad did. “Not even close.”
“Then what?” she asks, frustrated. I still don’t know why she cares so much.
“I don’t know,” I answer. As if I’m going to tell her the truth. I don’t intend to ever tell anyone the truth, and if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be Eden. She’s a stranger. “I’m not here for a lecture, okay? I just came to give you your stuff back and to tell you to keep your mouth shut.” I run my fingers through my hair and look to the door. I need to get out of here. I need sleep.
And then, just as I’m about to leave, I hear Eden almost silently ask, “Why do you hate me so much?”
My eyes flick back to hers. Is that what she thinks? That I hate her? Nothing I have said or done to her is anything personal. It’s just me being Tyler Bruce. Maybe I come across as hateful, and that’s because I am, but not toward her. “Who said I hated you?”
“Um. You kind of insult me every chance you get,” she tells me, furrowing her eyebrows as though she doesn’t know why she even needs to explain it, like it should be obvious. “I get that it’s weird having a stepsister all of a sudden, but it’s weird for me too. We got off on the wrong foot, I think.”
“No.” Laughing, I shake my head. Incredible. She thinks I act this way because I’m not used to having a stepsister? She’s so wrong. I act the way I do because I have no other choice, because it’s a defense mechanism to save myself from becoming vulnerable and exposed. That’s something she’ll never, ever understand. “You don’t get it at all.” I don’t want to talk anymore, so I finally spin around and head for the door.
“What don’t I get?” Eden asks, raising her voice. It’s firm, demanding. She wants an answer.
I don’t even turn around. I just say, “Everything.”