Читать книгу My Sweetest Escape - Chelsea M. Cameron - Страница 11

Chapter 7

Dinner was...interesting. Everyone—except me and Dusty—greased their wheels with the wide selection of beer on tap. Even though Taylor wasn’t of age, Hunter just ordered two glasses at a time and handed her one when the waiter wasn’t looking. I didn’t even bother to try that, because Renee’s eyes were on me the entire time. She kept herself to one beer, but I knew from experience that she could pound them back when she wanted.

The more alcohol the group consumed, the dirtier the stories got. Renee kept trying to shush them, as if they were going to poison my precious ears. Like it wasn’t anything I’d heard already. I’d been in college before. I also had the sneaking suspicion they’d been on their best behavior with me in the house.

“Oh, my God, do you remember that time I walked in on you in the shower?” Mase said to Renee.

“No, I cannot recall,” she said, becoming really interested in the half-devoured onion blossom. “But even if I did, that doesn’t mean it’s the kind of story one would tell in front of one’s impressionable younger sister.” Her words were sharp as knives and I think Mase and everyone else got the message. Then there was one of those silent moments where everyone is super uncomfortable and doesn’t know what to say. It stretched out until Dusty cleared his throat loudly and then made a whistling sound like an airplane diving and then crashing in a giant explosion. It was pretty accurate-sounding and made everyone laugh nervously. Our waiter chose that moment to come over and ask if anyone wanted more drinks. I got myself another Dr Pepper and Dusty got another Mountain Dew.

“You’re going to be up all night if you keep drinking that stuff,” I said. Of course we’d been the last people to arrive at the restaurant, so we’d gotten the last two chairs at the end of the table, so of course I was next to him.

“Maybe that’s my plan. Maybe I don’t sleep.”

All I could think of were supernatural creatures. “Vampire, werewolf or zombie?”

“All of the above,” he whispered and winked at me. Why was I talking to him again?

I stole a glance down the table at Renee, but Paul was telling her something and she was laughing. Thank you, Paul. I caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Your sister is, um, protective,” Dusty said.

“It’s a recent development.”

He waved his hand for me to elaborate. “Due to...”

I rolled my eyes.

“None of your business.” I was not going into my life story with him even though he’d shared his. I didn’t ask him to. I didn’t care.

“I think we need to have a toast,” Darah said, raising her glass. I knew she wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but she seemed to have changed her mind. “To our new resident, Jos.”

“May her life decisions be much wiser than ours,” Mase finished for her. Glasses were raised and clinked and there was some minor beer sloshing as my ears turned red and I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Yeah, my life decisions weren’t anyone’s business but mine.

I hate it when people say “seize the day.” Seizing sounds so violent. How about “love the day” or just “live the day”?

Live the day.

A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jump.

“Come back to earth, Red. You were orbiting somewhere else. That’s dangerous, you know.” I turned toward him and a retort formed on my lips, but I let it die. He wasn’t worth it. He didn’t understand. So I just gave him a sweet smile and imagined dumping the glass of Mountain Dew on his head. It would have been so satisfying, but I would have made a scene.

“Okay, okay, it’s time for some of us to go home because some of us have class tomorrow,” Renee said.

“She means me,” I said in a stage whisper to the entire table. They laughed, some more than others, but that was probably because of the beer and not because I was that funny.

“I can drive her,” Dusty said as everyone tried to figure out the bill and how much they should tip. Most of the guys did their guy thing and refused to let the poor delicate females even consider paying. After a few lectures about feminism and the increasing popularity of going Dutch, the guys won the battle and the ladies left the tip. Paul ended up paying for me, mostly because I was broke as shit.

“But then you’d have to go to our house and drop her off and then drive back. It’s no big deal—I’m fine to drive,” Renee said.

“It’s not a big deal. I forgot my phone at your place anyway.” He was totally lying. I’d seen it in his pocket, but I kept my mouth shut.

“If you don’t mind...”

“It’s no big deal, Ne,” he said. So I guess everyone was calling her that these days. She’d always hated it when Paul called her “Nene,” but I guess she was over it. You can only fight a nickname for so long before everyone just decides to use it with or without your permission.

What if I call you...Josie? Jo? Jojo? Lyn?

He’d finally agreed to call me Jossy, which was the only suggestion I could live with.

“You went away again, Red. You have a habit of doing that?” Dusty said, bringing me back again.

“None of your business.”

He laughed as we walked, and some of us stumbled a bit, out of the restaurant.

“You sound like a robot when you say that. Means I’ve hit on something you’d like to keep hidden. You’re one of those onion girls.”

“Onion girls?” I had a brief visual of a girl wearing an onion costume. “Are you saying I smell like an onion?”

We got to the car and I let him open the door, standing back and folding my arms. Damn, it was fun screwing with him. He was about to open it but pulled his arm back at the last second and walked around to his side of the car. I wrenched it open, got in and fastened my seat belt.

“No, I mean that you’re one of those girls with layers. You know, you’re more than just a pretty face. Plus, you don’t have to scrape through a layer of makeup to get there.” While it was true that I didn’t wear a lot of makeup, I used to, back when I wore skirts more often than pants and had to look good for any photo opportunity. I used to get up early every single day and straighten my hair and line my eyes just so. I had the cat eye thing down to a science. I honestly didn’t know where my eyeliner was. I definitely hadn’t seen it in months. Renee had probably stolen it.

“Is that a nice and slightly weird way of saying I look like crap?”

“Jesus, do you take everything negatively? Man, kick a guy for trying.” He shook his head and started making drum noises. “Your turn.”

“I’m not telling you my life story, Dusty.”

“I’m not asking for your life story. Just...give me something.”

“Why? What do you want from me?”

He shook his head, a different kind of smile on his face. It was almost shy. If anything about him could ever be considered shy.

“Nothing, Red. Absolutely nothing.”

And by the time I could think of something to say, we were back.

“I know you didn’t forget your phone, you liar. Is something burning?” I pretended to sniff the air as we walked up the front steps. “I think your pants are on fire, dude.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny.” He reached out and rang the doorbell. I raised my eyebrow. I would have just walked in. The bell dinged and then donged and Dusty made the exact same sound with his mouth. Somehow. The door opened, and Hunter gave both of us a look before holding the door open to let me in.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said to Dusty, but it sounded like a question. He tapped two fingers to his forehead and then flicked them upward in a little salute/wave. Yeah, okay.

“’Bye.”

Hunter was still looking at Dusty. Hmm. I was distracted from watching the two of them by a retching sound coming from the upstairs bathroom and then Mase yelling that he needed a hand. There was a sound like a herd of stampeding models as Renee and Taylor clacked their way up the stairs to take care of their fallen comrade.

“Jos, can you bring me up a glass of water?” Renee said over her shoulder as the puking sounds got louder. Lovely.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on it,” I said, giving her a thumbs-up and walking toward the kitchen. I set the glass in the sink, turning the water on, and tiptoed back to where I could hear Hunter and Dusty, but they couldn’t see me.

“So, I’ll see you at Steiner’s tomorrow?” Hunter said.

“Yeah. I might be late, but I let Kent know.” Dusty walked into the living room, and I could hear him rustling about “looking for his phone.”

“Found it. See you tomorrow, man. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Thanks for coming.” I heard them slapping hands or fist bumping or performing some type of guy-bonding ritual and then the door closed and I realized the glass of water was overflowing. I went back to the sink and turned it off.

Bromance indeed.

* * *

My alarm shattered the calm of sleep the next morning so completely that I woke up cursing. Stupid fucking school. I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. I was just taking care of business when a fist slammed on the door and Renee’s voice penetrated my morning fog.

“You’d better not be late your first day.”

“Thanks, Mom, but it would be nice if I could pee without being interrupted.”

“Just get your ass upstairs in ten minutes, or I’m coming back down and dragging your ass to class, no matter what you look like.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t even remember my mother being this wound up about taking me to kindergarten.

“Hurry up,” she said, rattling the doorknob for good measure. I had half a mind to walk upstairs stark naked and say I was ready, just to see the look on her face. But I didn’t fancy being naked in front of all the guys, so that plan was out.

Eight minutes later I was shoving an egg and cheese sandwich that Taylor had made in my face and shoving notebooks in my new messenger bag. Back in my “before” life, I’d carried a designer handbag just like all the other girls. Of course I also had a small clutch purse that went with it for all my makeup and tampons and such. Now I had a black messenger bag with lots of pins and buttons on it that I’d collected. I’d thrown my red hair back in a braid, put on my luckiest jeans and called it good enough.

Since everyone’s schedules were different, I was finally allowed to take my own damn car. Renee had gotten me a parking pass and handed me back the keys she’d stolen when I moved in on the condition that I didn’t get into any shenanigans. I’d been completely shenanigan-free ever since I’d gotten here, but that didn’t seem to matter to anyone. They were all still watching me, waiting for me to screw up. Maybe I should, just to put them out of their misery.

I said goodbye to everyone, promising I’d come back in one piece later.

I blasted Ingrid Michaelson on my drive to campus and sang at the top of my lungs. It took a few times of driving around the football field for me to find a free commuter parking spot. Apparently they were real asshats about parking in areas that weren’t designated for you to park in.

Finally, I found one, even though I had to squish in between a minivan and a huge truck and slide sideways to get out. I had ten minutes to get to my first class, Intro to American Law. I’d thought about changing majors, but I knew I could pretty much sleep through most of my poli-sci classes, so I stuck with what I knew.

The class was full of clones of the students I’d left behind. I even saw a few girls with the exact same bag I had shoved in a box back at my mom’s house. Since it was a sophomore-level class, most of the nonserious people had been weeded out, but there were still a few people who looked like they wouldn’t make it through four years of this. And, of course, since this was New England, there were the token Birkenstock-wearing, patchouli-smelling weirdos who were going to spend their time protesting whatever the trendy cause of the day was.

They were almost worse than the buttoned-up, straitlaced kids. They just had to be so self-righteous about every. Damn. Thing. They also loved to hear the sound of their own voices. Fortunately, I’d brought my headphones, and since they liked to talk so much, they’d take up plenty of class time, leaving that time for the rest of us to do whatever. I booted up my laptop and listened as the professor, a guy in a nice button-up and tie—big surprise—droned on about Marbury vs. Madison. Been there, done that.

I kept one ear open and the other covered as I listened to some new music I’d found the other day on low volume. I’d also bought some new albums that I needed to review, so I switched to those. The first was a ska group that was way more punk than ska and didn’t have a whole lot going for them. It wasn’t even bad in a craptastic way that made you want to listen to it anyway. They definitely weren’t Streetlight Manifesto, or Reel Big Fish.

I made a few notes about some of the songs and moved on to the second album that had more of a folky/bluegrass feel. That one was much better, and I found myself transfixed by the complex melodies and haunting lyrics. I didn’t think there was anything else like music for having the ability to transport you to another place, even when you were sitting in a class full of strangers.

Finally, the class was over and homework was assigned. I’d managed to get a seat in the back and had avoided making eye contact or speaking with anyone, so I called the first class a total win.

I wasn’t so lucky for my second, American State and Local Government. It sounded like a total yawner of a class, but when I got into the room everyone was talking and laughing like it was a social gathering instead of a class. I sat in the back, closest to the door and with at least two seats in between me and anyone else, and I thought I was set until a girl rushed in and sat with one seat between us.

“Am I late?” she said, not even looking at me and frantically searching through her bag. All I saw was a huge quantity of very blond, very curly hair that she had tried to shove into an elastic band without much success.

I looked around, but there was no one else to respond to her, so it was up to me.

“Um, there’s still a few minutes.” She was up to her elbows in her bag, and she finally emerged, holding a bag of Skittles. I opened and closed my mouth a few times as she ripped the bag open with her teeth and then held the bag in my direction.

“Want some?” I finally looked at her face and then wished I hadn’t. One half was perfect white skin, and the other was mangled with what looked like a severe burn. “Do I have something on my face?” she said, her eyes getting wide as her hand flew to her face. “Oh, yeah, I do. Duh.”

She dropped her hand and grinned at me. Somehow her eyes had remained unharmed, but the side of her mouth and the rest of her face going all the way to her ear were shiny and had a weird pattern on them. It extended down her neck, and though her arm was covered, I could see it on the back of her hand, as well.

“So I’m going to tell you my name and also tell you that you can stare if you want. I’m Hannah, and it’s okay to stare.” She flicked some of her hair back, and I tried my best to look into her eyes, which were a deep brown, in contrast with her pale hair and skin.

“Jos. I’m Jos,” I said, because what else was I going to do?

“Nice to meet you. And if you choose to sit on the other side of the room next class, I won’t, like, hate you or anything. I’m a people repeller. It’s kind of my thing. For obvious reasons.” She giggled a little, and I turned to the front of the class, where an extremely tall woman in a charcoal skirt and jacket was writing things down on the numerous whiteboards. She looked like she just stepped out of a Senate meeting. When she was done writing what looked like half of a novel, she turned around and clapped her hands. Everyone shut up.

“Okay, I see you all made it here for another week of mind-broadening. Congratulations on being sober enough to drag yourselves here.” Everyone else laughed, and I sort of joined in. She picked up a clipboard and read our names off. Of course, since my last name began with the first letter of the alphabet, I was the second person called.

“Joscelyn Archer?”

“Here,” I said, listening to my voice echo in the large room.

She looked up from the clipboard and searched me out. “You’re new to us, yes? Transfer?”

“Uh, yeah.” I could feel the blood rushing to my face and ears.

“Do you go by Joscelyn, or is there a nickname you’d prefer?”

“Um, Jos is fine.”

She smiled, showing the most perfect set of probably real teeth I’d ever seen.

“Jos. Lovely. Nice to have you with us.”

She moved on to the next name, and I slumped down in my seat.

“I hope you’re not going to do that all the time. She’ll call on you more if she knows how much you hate it,” Hannah whispered as someone else said, “here!”

“Great. Just fantastic.”

Hannah was right. Since I was new, the teacher, who went by Pam, didn’t call on me, but everyone else was fair game. She fired questions out like bullets, and if you answered too slowly, she’d move on to someone else. There was a lot of stuttering, a lot of red faces and a lot of people shooting their hands in the air to be called on so they could show everyone just how freaking smart they were.

And then there were some, including Hannah, who gave the answers when called and didn’t elaborate unless Pam asked them to. Everyone sort of turned to look at Hannah when she talked, and I could see that more than a few people’s gazes skittered away from the burned side of her face, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.

I didn’t get out my headphones the entire class. It was just too interesting. How she could make something as potentially boring as Colonial government riveting was beyond me.

When the class was over, we all sort of walked out like we were in a trance.

“Is it always like that?” I couldn’t help myself from asking Hannah as she crumpled up the empty Skittles bag.

“Pretty much. Awesome, huh?”

“It probably will be less awesome when she starts calling on me.”

“Just do the reading. You seem like the kind of person who doesn’t have her head up her ass, so you should be fine. So, where did you transfer from?”

“UNH.”

“Boo, hiss. Don’t say that too close to anyone connected with hockey, or else you might get your ass handed to you.” So I’d heard. The hockey rivalry between the University of Maine and the University of New Hampshire had been going on for as long as they’d been playing hockey. I’d never gone to a game, but campus pretty much shut down so everyone could go to the games, and I bet UMaine wasn’t any different.

I had some time before my next class, and I was already starving, so I headed toward the Union.

“Do you have another class right now?” Hannah said as we got to the doors. “Because, although that bag of Skittles was totally satisfying, I could go for something else. Why does this sound like I’m asking you out? I’m totally not.” She shook her head.

“Um, no. I’m available. For eating. Not the dating.”

Her dark eyes went wide. “Because I like boys. I swear.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

We shared one of those nervous giggles that turns into full-on laughter, and by the time we got to the Union, I was wiping tears away.

“I swear, I’m not normally this weird,” she said as we joined the lunchtime throng and descended into the food court. Only a second later she said, “Okay, that’s a complete lie. I am normally this weird.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I whispered as we scoped out what was available. The longest lines were for pizza and burgers and the pseudo “Taco Bell,” so we headed to get wraps since those were the quickest. I happened to be on Hannah’s “good” side, but I was more than aware of the stares she got. It was one of those things. You saw her, realized there was something different about her, did a look again to check and then couldn’t look away.

She just smiled and giggled and acted like a normal girl. She got a hummus wrap and I ordered the special, known as the “Winslow,” which was basically a chicken caesar wrap with the addition of crushed croutons, which was such a brilliant idea that I couldn’t believe someone hadn’t thought of it sooner.

Finding a seat turned out to be a challenge, but we found a table for the two of us in a corner. I was about to say something, but Hannah beat me to it.

“So, in light of wanting to get things out in the open, yes, it’s a burn. It happened when I was a kid and it’s a long story and I’d rather not go into it because it’s a bit of a downer and a bit of a conversation killer and usually after I tell it I never see whoever I told it to again. Which is my weird way of saying that I don’t want to make you uncomfortable this early in our relationship. Wow, why do I keep doing that? I am so sorry.”

“No big,” I said, unable to stop laughing. “How about you tell me something else? Where are you from?”

She chewed and swallowed before she spoke. “Up north. The boondocks. The sticks. The butthole of Maine. Whatever you want to call it. I couldn’t afford to go out of state and this was the biggest school in Maine. Great place to get lost in, you know?”

I did.

“What’s your major?” she said after taking another bite of her wrap.

“Poli-sci.”

“Me, too. Although, that’s only because it sounded better than history and I’m a bit of a law junkie. I have no idea what I want to do, but I figured it was as good as anything else. Plus, in the upper level classes we get to debate and that’s kind of one of my favorite things. You?”

“I used to want to be president, or a senator or something,” I said. I hadn’t decided quite what yet. I figured I’d start out in local government and work my way up.

“Used to?”

“Another one of those long stories that’s a bit of a downer that I’d rather not tell.”

Hannah nodded. Honestly, the burn wasn’t that bad once you’d been looking at it for a while. You got used to it, and the fact that Hannah didn’t seem bothered about it helped.

“I hear you, girl.” We finished our lunch and talked more about the class, and Hannah told me that as long as I did the reading and had a reasonable grasp of the current political climate, I’d be fine. I wasn’t so sure, but I took her word for it.

“Are you on campus?” she asked as we dumped our trays and made our way upstairs to the Starbucks. Hannah said she needed her next caffeine fix.

“No. I live in a house in Bangor with my sister and a bunch of her friends.” Hannah let out a dreamy sigh.

“That sounds awesome. I’m stuck on campus. Yay, scholarship.” She sounded so enthused. “I’ve only lived with my roommate for a few weeks, and she’s already stopped talking to me. Luckily, she has a boyfriend with an apartment, so she usually stays there.”

Once again, been there, done that.

“It’s awesome if you feel like having three sets of parents always watching your every move.” I hadn’t meant to share so much about myself, but I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t talked to anyone like this in a while, and there was something about Hannah. I’d known her less than a few hours, but it was like we’d met before, even though that was impossible.

“That sucks,” she said as she got in line. I decided to get my second round of tea just for the heck of it. The line was crazy long with everyone jonesing for their next fix like a bunch of junkies standing in line for methadone. Actually, the methadone was probably cheaper.

By the time we got our drinks and found a table crushed in a corner and two seats, it was almost time for my next class. I downed my tea and told Hannah I’d see her on Wednesday. We hadn’t talked about the rest of our class schedules, but the chances of me seeing her in another of my classes were actually pretty good, and I had the feeling I would.

I was searching for Neville Hall, which housed my English class, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here, Red.” I pivoted and found the ever-grinning face of Dusty Sharp. He pulled a set of headphones nearly identical to the ones I had off his ears and let them rest around his neck. His wardrobe of baggy everything hadn’t deviated, and I found myself wondering, once again, how his pants stayed up.

I wanted to say something snarky, but instead a question came out of my mouth.

“Do you know where Neville Hall is?” Someone yelled hello, and his eyes briefly left my face to wave hello and call out to someone.

“Sure. Follow me. I’m going there, as well. What class do you have?”

“English.”

“Me, too.”

Jesus, if he and I were in the same class, that would just suck beyond suckage.

He must have seen the horror on my face. I hadn’t really tried to hide it.

“Just messing with you, Red. I have calc. Would being in the same class with me be that bad?”

I didn’t answer as we crossed the road and I saw a building with the words Neville Hall on it. I could have found it if I’d looked, but then I probably would have been late.

He held the door for me and a few people coming in behind me.

“Thank you,” I said.

We paused in the lobby.

“I’m on the second floor,” he said, pointing toward the stairs.

“I’m on the third.”

We walked up two flights and he gave me that little two-fingered wave again.

“See you later, Red.”

“’Bye.”

I joined a few other people and plodded my way up to the third floor.

I hadn’t fulfilled my English requirements yet, so I was stuck taking Creative Writing. When I walked in, there were only about ten other people there. That did not bode well for being able to hide and listen to music. Great.

I found a seat in the back and close to the door and looked around. I felt pretty young; most of the people looked like they were quite a bit older than me.

I’d gotten a decent grade in my English comp class at UNH, but only because I’d been one of the few students who turned in assignments. I liked to read, but writing those insipid papers where you had to analyze what some dude who had died hundreds of years ago had meant by writing about rain or some such crap was pretty much the worst thing ever. Luckily, the more you seemed to bullshit, the better grade you got. Maybe I could do the same in this class.

A few more people trickled in until there were fifteen of us. The professor was the last one there, and he was everything a teacher of English should be. He even had a tweed jacket with those weird elbow patches and horn-rimmed glasses.

He called attendance and when he got to my name he asked me what I wanted to be called. I went with Jos again as he introduced himself as Greg and explained how the class would go. I’d skimmed the syllabus, but hadn’t really paid attention to it. As he explained what we’d be doing, my heart sank. We’d have to write something every week, and during at least one class period a week. And we had to read what we’d written. Out loud. And, if that wasn’t enough, he’d make copies of what we’d written and we’d all have a class discussion.

Welcome to your nightmare, Jos Archer.

Once again, since I was new, I didn’t have to do much, but this was going to be another class in which I was required to participate, even if I didn’t want to. At least half of the class looked like they’d rather be getting a lobotomy than be there, so at least I was in good company.

I suffered my way through and then I was finally done with classes for the day. I scurried away from Neville Hall as fast as I could before I could bump into Dusty again, and checked my phone. There were several missed texts from Renee, asking how classes were going, and one from my mother and another from Darah that was just a smiley face.

I could have gone back to the house, but I wanted to savor this time I had without anyone watching my every move. It wasn’t too cold, so I did a walk around campus, finding the rest of my classes for the next day and watching the other students go about their lives, wondering what it was like to be them.

When my legs started to get numb, despite the walking, I went back to my car. My instructions were to go right home, but I didn’t. I’d been dying to go to Bull Moose in Bangor, so I headed toward the mall. Bull Moose was pretty much the best music store in all of New England. I’d discovered them when I went to UNH and I was over the moon when I realized there was one close to UMaine.

It took some maneuvering and lane-switching to find the place, but I did.

The great thing about Bull Moose was that they had not only CDs, but records and old movies, and all the people who worked there knew what they were talking about. When I walked in, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. Ah. I loved the comforting rows of cases, all ordered by genre and artist. Yes, most music could be purchased online, but you couldn’t duplicate the experience of going to a store and browsing yourself.

“Can I help you, little lady?” Jesus. H. Christ. I paused with my hand on a Radiohead CD that I didn’t currently own and turned to make sure he wasn’t a hallucination.

“No, thank you. I can pick out my own music.” That was a lie. I’d recently discovered The Black Keys, and I was hoping to find more bands like them, but I was never going to ask Dusty. Not in a million years. “Are you stalking me? Because, seriously, it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s stalking me. I was here first. You came into my store.” I finally noticed he had a lanyard around his neck like the other guys who worked here.

“Oh, so this is your store? Do you own it?”

“Nope, but I do work here. And I’ve been going to Yellowfield House longer than you, too. So I was here first.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I said, putting the CD back. Even my music sanctuary had been invaded.

“So you’re into music,” Dusty said, straightening some of the CDs, as if he was pretending to work. “What kind?”

“Taylor Swift,” I said, just to throw him. Granted, I had listened to plenty of her stuff and some of it wasn’t so bad. But he didn’t know that.

“Well, we have a wide range of T Swift’s music for your listening pleasure.” He gestured toward the pop section. “I’m partial to her earlier work, but her newest album is getting great reviews.” I waited to see if he was being sarcastic.

“Can you just let me browse without being harassed? I get it enough at Renee’s, and I don’t need it from everyone else.” Wow, I did not mean to be that honest. What was it with me today? I seemed to be vocalizing everything I was thinking whether I meant to or not.

“Wow, easy, Red.” He put his hands up as if I’d held a gun to his head. “Just trying to be a good employee and help a customer, but if you want to be left alone, you got it.” He turned around and left before I could say anything else. I saw him talking to a few of the other guys and pointing at me. What fresh hell was this?

He came back a few minutes later as I was searching through the alt-rock section.

“Okay, so I’ve told everyone not to approach you unless you approach them first, so the store is yours, Joscelyn.” He waved his arms to indicate everything.

“Thanks.” It sounded like a question.

“Anytime.” One last grin and he was gone, off to the back of the store and through a door marked Employees Only. And I was left alone for the rest of my time in the store.

I found a couple CDs, but didn’t look as close as I wanted because I felt like all eyes were on me, even though every time I looked up, one or more of the employees were giving me looks like I was going to run over and stab them or something. God only knew what he had told them so they’d leave me alone. Then again, I probably didn’t want to know.

* * *

When I got back from my little Bull Moose trip, there were several cars parked in the driveway, so I had to settle for parking in the street.

“Hey, Miss I’m-not-going-to-text-my-sister-back.” Renee’s voice was the first thing I heard when I walked through the door and hung my coat up. Renee hopped up from the couch and came over to glare at me.

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. I pushed past her and went downstairs to put my stuff away. Of course she followed me.

“Look, Renee, I know you find this hard to believe, but I didn’t do anything bad. I went to class, I had lunch, I went to Bull Moose and I came back here. That’s all. Besides, how can I do anything with you riding my ass at every turn?”

Instead of yelling at me she just tossed her hands in the air and then banged them on her thighs.

“Why are you being like this, Jos? What happened to my little sister who never, ever swore? I don’t feel like I know you anymore.”

“Maybe you didn’t know me before. Maybe that girl was a lie.” She had been a lie. That girl had a metal rod shoved so far up her butt she was choking on it. That girl was so afraid of stepping out of line or making any waves that she never did anything. Never broke curfew. Never got drunk. Never did anything that could be construed as wild, or out of control, or free.

She was so fucking uptight that she barely ever laughed. Or smiled. Or had any fun of any kind. That girl never would have just sat in a dark room and listened to music without it having a purpose. Being that girl was exhausting, but no one knew.

“I just don’t know what to say to you anymore, Jos. You’re my sister and I feel like you’re a complete stranger. What am I supposed to do?” For the first time, I heard the hopelessness in her voice. Renee didn’t get hopeless. She didn’t get weak. She was always tough as nails; she had to be with our crazy parents.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just...give me some space. I can’t breathe.” I sat down on my bed and she came and sat next to me.

“I never thought that I would be this worried about you. You’re the good one. You made the rest of us look like losers. It was hell when our report cards would come out and you’d always have A’s and the rest of us had to compete with that. It sucked, by the way.” She bumped my shoulder with hers.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I just wish I had been the one who could have set the good example. You know, I’m supposed to be the oldest and all that. I tried, but you were always better.”

Was. Past tense.

She touched my hair. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened last year?”

I shook my head. “I just decided that life was worth living, and I hadn’t been.”

“All of a sudden? Carpe diem?”

Sure.

“Something like that.”