PRESENT DAY
Fuck, I think. The barbecue.
I can see the commotion in the backyard the second I pull up outside my house, braking so hard that I end up skidding a little. There aren’t any cars parked out front, but that’s because Mom only invites our neighbors. She does this every year, and every single year without fail half our neighborhood comes strolling down the street with their crates of beer. I don’t know why Mom continues to insist that I be here each year. I can’t think of anything more lame than this, especially considering I hate half our neighbors. Mrs. Harding from a couple doors down? She once called the cops on me for walking across her lawn. Mr. Fazio from across the street? He decided to let my mom know about that time I threw a party while she was out of town. Mrs. Baxter at the very northern end of Deidre Avenue? She does nothing but complain about the amount of noise my car makes every time I drive past her house.
So yeah. I usually pass on this annual tradition.
Killing my engine and pulling the keys out of the ignition, I kick open my door and step out. I can hear the music from the yard now and the disgusting scent in the air makes me feel almost nauseous for a moment. I hate barbecues, not because of the social nature of them, but because of the gross smell of burning meat. I haven’t eaten meat in years, and I have to shove my hand into my hair as I take a second to compose myself. I’m already pissed off and coming home to this definitely isn’t helping.
Narrowing my eyes, I head for the backyard. I may be furious, but I have an act to keep up, so I slam my fist against the gate to throw it open. The mixture of voices immediately hushes until only the music is left, and I spot Mrs. Harding in the corner, glowering at me in disgust.
“Sorry I’m late,” I announce. My eyes search the crowd in front of me as I try to spot Mom, but I’m glad when I can’t find her. I don’t want to see her face right now, because I know I’m embarrassing her, but with this many people around, I can’t afford not to. So I may not spot Mom, but I do spot my asshole of a stepdad over behind the barbecue. Dave’s already fixing me with a threatening look that warns me not to say anything else, which gives me every reason to continue. “Did I miss anything besides the slaughtering of animals?” I flip him off at the same time, and there are some murmurs of disapproval which I choose to ignore. I could cause a bigger scene than I already am; I could kick over the stack of beer that’s on my right, but I decide not to, only because I’m still trying to figure out the argument I just had with Tiffani. “I hope you guys enjoyed the cow you just ate.” I have to laugh, because it’s the only thing I can bring myself to do right now. If I don’t, I think I will seriously throw a punch at someone, anyone.
I turn away before my temper flares up again, and I hear Dave say, “More beer?” There’s some awkward laughter from the guests as I head inside through the patio doors. I slide them shut again as harshly as I can, and I blow out a breath of air, relieved to be inside at last. The AC is on and the kitchen is refreshingly cool as I stride into the hall, ready to bolt my way upstairs to my room so that I can chill out and calm myself down.
But just as I’m turning onto the stairs, Mom’s voice calls my name, and I know I have to talk to her despite how angry I am right now. I hang my head low for a second before I turn around, gathering my thoughts and my excuses. I hope she can’t smell the beer from me. She would flip if she knew I’ve been driving like this.
“What the hell are you thinking?” she snarls under her breath. She’s gritting her teeth when I turn back around to look at her, and at first, all I can do is shrug. I’m not great at answering questions I don’t know the answers to.
“Where have you been?” she asks, demanding more answers. She’s mortified, I can tell, and I feel slightly guilty as she glances over her shoulder to ensure no one is here, then grabs my elbow and pulls me into the living room. “I told you to be here tonight and you think you can just stroll in here now acting the way you just did?” She closes her eyes in exasperation and massages her temples, like I’m a headache she’s trying to soothe away.
I’m still super aware that I’ve been drinking, so I take a couple steps back from her, increasing the distance between us. I don’t want to add any more fuel to the fire. “I’m not even late,” I mutter, because, technically, she told me to be here and I am.
“You’re two hours late!” she yells at me, her eyes flashing open again. She usually lets me off the hook a lot quicker than she is now, and I really wish she wouldn’t choose right now to argue with me.
I laugh again, but only to stop myself from losing it. “You really think I’m gonna come home to watch a damn barbecue?”
Mom exhales as her gaze softens. “What is your problem this time?” she asks, pacing back and forth in front of me as though she’s trying to figure out the underlying reason for my behavior tonight. Admittedly, I’m not usually as agitated as this. “Forget about the barbecue. You were acting like a little kid before you even got out of the car. What’s wrong?”
I’ve never been able to look Mom in the eye when I lie, so I clench my jaw and turn my face away from her, looking at the window. “Nothing.”
“It’s clearly not nothing,” she snaps back, and the softness to her expression is gone. I hate it when she gets like this. She gets mad at me a lot, but usually more in the frustrated, helpless sort of sense. This time, I really have pissed her off. “You just humiliated me again in front of half the neighborhood!”
“Whatever,” I say.
Mom goes silent for a second, and when I look back over at her, she’s shaking her head at the floor and murmuring, “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should have just made you stay, but no, of course I didn’t, because there I was, trying to cut you some slack, and you throw it back in my face as usual.”
“I would have left anyway,” I argue, because this is true. Even if I didn’t already have plans tonight, there’s no way I would have stuck around here, and Mom knows that. I don’t know why she even tries anymore. I wish she’d just give up on me. “What are you gonna do? Ground me again?” I take a challenging step toward her, failing to hold back my laughter again. I’ve been grounded for the past two years, I believe. It’s nothing but an empty threat which Mom never follows through with.
“You’re impossible.” She looks away then, staring straight past me and over my shoulder as her expression shifts. Her frustration with me seems to dissolve, and she furrows her eyebrows instead as she gently pushes past me and heads for the door.
I heave a sigh and push my hand back through my hair, tilting my head back so that I can stare at the ceiling. If I have another argument tonight, I might just combust.
Mom says something and I quickly spin around to find her lingering just outside the door, only it’s not me she’s focused on. I don’t know who she’s talking to, so I move across the living room and peer around the door.
There’s a girl awkwardly spread across the staircase, eyes wide with alarm as though she’s absolutely terrified. I don’t know who the hell she is, because I don’t think I’ve ever seen her around before. I’m sure I haven’t. I narrow my eyes at her, studying her more intensely. She doesn’t look that much younger than me, so I seriously can’t figure out why I’ve never seen her around school before, and given the fact she’s a brunette, I’m sure I would recognize her. Her anxious gaze doesn’t leave mine, which makes me begin to wonder why she’s so nervous in the first place, but I don’t wonder for long because I become distracted by how plump her lips are as she presses them together and swallows. This girl definitely isn’t from here. I know for sure that I would recognize her if she was. How couldn’t I?
The muscle in my jaw tightens when I realize what I’m thinking. Tiffani would have me for dead if she heard my thoughts right now.
“Who the hell is this chick?” I finally demand, tearing my eyes away and looking expectantly at Mom instead.
She takes a minute to think about her answer, and even she seems a little nervous too. “Tyler,” she says quietly as she places her hand on my arm, “this is Eden. Dave’s daughter.”
At first, I don’t quite process her words. “Dave’s kid?”
The girl straightens up, standing up, and she opens those plump, wet lips of hers and says nothing but, “Hi.”
My eyes are drawn back to hers at the sound of her voice. It’s low and husky, even a little raspy, and it is so different and so new to me that I freeze on the spot, paralyzed by a single syllable. Even on her feet, she’s still several inches shorter than me, so I stare down at her, trying to make sense of the information that’s pushing down on me. This girl . . . This brunette girl with the full lips and the husky voice . . . is my stepsister?
No. Fucking. Way.
When Mom said Dave’s kid was going to be living with us over the summer, I didn’t even pay that much attention, and now I’m really wishing that I had. I didn’t realize she’d be around my age. How old is she anyway? I want to ask, but I can’t even part my lips, let alone form words. I feel like someone has knocked the air out of me. I swallow hard and look at Mom again. “Dave’s kid?” I repeat, but it’s almost a whisper. I’m in complete and utter disbelief.
Mom heaves a sigh. “Yes, Tyler,” she says, almost like she’s exasperated. “I already told you she was coming. Don’t act stupid.”
Although I’m looking primarily at Mom, I’m also looking at the girl as surreptitiously as I possibly can out of the corner of my eye, because I seriously can’t look away. The makeup around her eyes is smudged a little. “Which room?”
Mom’s expression flashes with confusion. “What?”
My throat is starting to feel dry. “Which room is she staying in?” I urge.
And then Mom says it, the answer I was dreading: “The one next to yours.”
I release a groan, finally becoming unrooted from the spot. We have two spare guest rooms upstairs, and of course Mom has to give her the room next door to mine. I don’t want to be anywhere near this girl, not because I have a girlfriend, but because this girl is my stepsister. God. I never thought I’d ever have to stay away from a girl because of that reason.
My anger is surfacing again and I don’t even realize I’ve been glaring at her until I feel the strain in my forehead from narrowing my eyes for too long. I couldn’t stick around at Tiffani’s place, but now I can’t stick around here either. Everything that has happened in the past hour is seriously starting to get to me.
Nudging my way past Mom, I storm upstairs, and I have no choice but to brush past this girl who is going to be in my way for the entire summer. I knock against her shoulder, and I can’t bring myself to apologize, because all I can think about is getting the hell away from her. I march upstairs and into my room, slamming the door behind me and pacing around in a circle for a good minute or so until I collect my thoughts. They’re all over the place, and I have to play some music as loud as I can through my speakers in order to distract myself.
Once my breathing has calmed, I pause and glance around. Mom has made my bed and picked up my clothes from the floor again. They’re folded and left in a neat pile on top of my dresser. I should pack them away, but I’ve discovered that if I leave them there for long enough then Mom’ll give in and pack them away herself. I’ve also discovered that the only reason Mom doesn’t mind tidying up my room every morning is because she likes to raid the place in search of anything she doesn’t approve of.
I press my lips together and get down onto my knees, ducking to check underneath my bed. Sure enough, like always, she’s stolen the pack of Bud that I put there last night. I get up and move to my bathroom to check inside the cabinet, and again, it’s no surprise that she’s swiped the packet of Marlboros too. I don’t even smoke cigarettes that often, but I still like to have them on me, just in case.
Walking back into my room, I sit down on the corner of my bed and press my hands to my temples, staring at the floor while I decide what I want to do. I’m in the strangest mood and all I want right now is a hell of a lot more beer and a joint. They’re the only things that I can always rely on to distract me when there’s things I don’t want to deal with. I want to go to that party tonight, despite the fact that I’d rather avoid Tiffani. Sticking around here isn’t an option anymore, so I take out my phone and text some of the guys for the address. Kaleb is the first to reply, and I tell him I’ll be there in twenty.
I get to my feet and spray some cologne, then turn off my music as I grab my car keys from my pocket. I feel entirely sober after all of the arguing, but I’m still livid, and it doesn’t help that the second I push open my door, that damn girl is there again.
She looks up at me with those same anxious eyes as before, only this time I’m noticing that they’re hazel, and an intense hazel at that. I can’t decide whether or not they’re more golden than they are brown. “Hi,” she says again. “Are you okay?”
That voice. I blink a couple times and try to keep my expression as blank as I possibly can to hide the fact that that voice of hers is seriously doing something to me. “Bye,” I say, stepping past her. I don’t want to be around this girl. I’ve already decided that, so I follow through by making my way downstairs and out of the front door without looking over my shoulder, despite how badly I want to.
As soon as I step outside into the front yard, I can hear the music from the back again. Laughter, too. Luckily, no one is around out front to notice me leave. I doubt Mom would put up a fight anyway. She never does.
Unlocking my car, I slide back in and pull the door shut. I start up the engine, but I don’t drive off immediately. I sit there for a minute, my elbow resting up against the window as I run the tips of my fingers along my jaw while I think.
Sighing, I get my phone out again and pull up my messages with Tiffani. It’s better to warn her.
I’ll see you at the party, I type, and then I hit send at the exact same time as I hit the accelerator.