“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do now,” Mercedes says. Her eyes are wet.
There’s nothing wrong with offering a little comfort, so I put my arm around her. “I know the feeling.”
She smiles up at me. “You do?”
I nod. “But let’s forget about it tonight.”
“I like your thinking.”
I lose track of how much we drink. All I know is that we’re having fun and laughing harder than I have in a long time. Other drunk people are dancing, which is hilarious. Some are passed out, which is hilarious. Everything is freaking hilarious.
Mercedes has her legs draped over mine. She smiles and giggles as she twirls her hair around one finger.
“What’s so funny?” I barely recognize my own voice.
She busts up laughing. “You’re so drunk!”
“So are you!” I poke her leg.
“Hey!” She pulls herself up and sways so badly that I have to grab her before she falls off the couch. When she finds her balance, she looks into my eyes. Suddenly, nothing feels funny. Her voice is low, intimate, when she says, “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?”
“What?”
“I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” She leans in.
It’s tempting. For the smallest moment I want to get it over with and date Mercedes like everyone expects. She’d be a good girlfriend—nice, hot, easy, loyal. We’d have fun, and she’d never expect me to be anything but what I am. She’d think she was lucky to have me, and that sounds really nice right about now.
But right before her lips meet mine, I jerk back. Then I wonder why. So reflexively, too. I don’t have to be loyal to Garret anymore. He’s not loyal to me. But that’s not it. There’s something else that’s telling me I really don’t want to kiss her. She’s not the girl I should be kissing, except I’m not sure who is.
She frowns. “Russ?”
I get up, stumbling as I try to figure out my wobbly legs. “I gotta go.”
“Why?” She looks like I’ve crushed her soul or something.
“I don’t know.” I head for the door as she starts bawling.
Chapter Thirty
It’s only after I get outside that I realize I have no ride home. Dallas drove me here, and there’s no one in there in any shape to drive except for his parents, and there’s no way I’m asking them. It’s too far and too foggy to walk. I probably can’t even walk that far. I sit on the curb and pull out my phone. There’s only one person to call.
“You just interrupted episode four of
Soul Eater.
This better be an emergency.”
“Izzy, I need a ride home.”
“Holy crap, how drunk are you?”
“Really, really drunk.”
She sighs like I am the biggest inconvenience ever. “I’m not impressed, Russell.”
“Do you want me to walk and get lost in the fog? Or maybe I should borrow someone’s car and kill a few people on the way home.”
“Okay! Ugh, I’ll send the car. Daphne!”
I groan. Not Daphne. I really don’t need a lecture right now. “Why can’t you come?”
“I am in the middle of episode four! And we’re already behind because we had to go to the game. It’s not my fault you didn’t think of a way to get home sooner.”
“That’s harsh, sis.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t like people who accuse my friend of being a whore. And I really don’t like people who shit all over their best friends. Daphne will be there in ten.” She hangs up.
Maybe if I wasn’t so drunk I’d be pissed, but I just sit there, stunned. Keira and Garret must be with her, and they told her some twisted version of what actually happened. Now even my sister hates me? I put my head in my hands. I wish Trent was around to set things straight. He’d defend me. But he’s broken up about Izzy and Colin. He probably won’t set foot in my house ever again.
It’s freezing outside, which is probably the only thing keeping me coherent at this point. My shoes are blurry. My head spins like a merry-go-round. The fog seems to be closing in on me, crushing me. This is the part where drinking stops being fun and starts sucking hard. But I smile, almost excited for the part after this.
Passing out.
For a few hours it will all be gone. I won’t have to deal with it.
The headlights make my brain throb. I cuss at the driver for being so inconsiderate. A door slams. There’s a figure in front of me. It’s definitely a girl figure, but I’m not sure who it is.
“Russ.”
“Daphne?” I focus hard. That might be her wild black hair. Whoa, neon yellow belt. It’s definitely her. “What’re you doing here?”
“Taking you home.” Her hand rests on my back, more gentle than I expect. “Can you get up?”
“Aren’t you gonna yell at me?”
“Later.” She pulls at my arm. “Come on, stand up. I might be strong, but I can’t carry you.”
I try, but my legs feel like jelly. I grab on to her, hoping not to fall over. She puts both her hands on my chest, steadying me. Standing there staring at her, I know she’s the only thing keeping me up right now.
I gasp. “That’s why.”
“What?”
That’s why I can’t kiss Mercedes. She’s just my friend. I don’t need her like I need Daphne. She’s the one who steadies me, who knows what I try so hard to hide, the one who’s always been there.
She’s the one I care about.
“Daphne.” I put my hand on her cheek and she jumps. But she doesn’t move.
“Russ.” She looks up at Dallas’s giant mansion, like just being near it frightens her. “I really need to get you home.”
“Okay, I need your help.”
“I’m right here.” She helps me to the door, makes sure I don’t bump my head, puts on my seat belt. Then she turns Puke around and heads home.
The silence hurts my head. I don’t like when Daphne is quiet; I like to hear her voice and thoughts. I watch her as she concentrates on the road, all serious and intense. “Are you mad at me, too?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath. “There’s no doubt you were interested in her at one point.”
I groan. “I told you that was a big mistake. She’s awful. Crazy.”
“Keira is not my favorite person, but she’s not
that
bad. It’s not even that, though. You abandoned Garret, just left him after what happened at the game. He’s devastated, Russ, and you didn’t even have the decency to take care of him.”
“He left me! I tried to tell him the truth and he didn’t believe me. You think I wanted to lose my best friend? I was trying to protect him!” I put my hand on my head because it’s starting to pound.
“I don’t know what to believe.”
I take her hand and raise it to my lips. “Daphne, I don’t give a shit about Keira. You of all people should know that.”
She pulls her hand away. “You’re drunk.”
“That doesn’t mean…” My stomach lurches. “Doesn’t mean…” No, keep it together.
“Russ?”
I lean forward, unable to hold it back. The puke keeps coming. It’s all over my shoes, and the smell keeps me heaving. But I feel her hand on my back, and somehow that makes everything okay.
Chapter Thirty-One
Now
this
is a hangover. The second I’m awake, all I want is to stay asleep. My head pounds so hard it feels like my eyeballs might pop out. It’s too light, even though my curtains are closed. I pull my covers over my head to block it.
Then it all comes flooding back. Not in great detail, which is maddening. I remember subjects, but I can’t be sure exactly how they went and that worries me. I drank a lot. I know that for sure. And something went down with Mercedes. Did I kiss her? No. Yes? I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I hope I didn’t.
Daphne was there. Why was she there? She came to take me home, probably, but there’s more to it. It takes a moment, but then it slams into my chest.
I like her.
And not just the “we’re good friends” like, or the “damn, she’s hot” like. I like
her,
from the wacko clothes to her knowing smile and back again.
Did I tell her that? I was so smashed by then I honestly can’t remember. But I do remember one thing—I definitely threw up in front of her. Puking in Puke. I guess there’s some kind of poetry in that. After that, it’s all blank. I don’t even know how I got to my bed.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” she says.
I freeze. Daphne’s in my room. Did we…? I’m afraid to open my eyes and see her in one of my T-shirts or something, but I do it anyway. She sits at the side of my bed, perched in my desk chair. She’s still wearing her own clothes, and now I realize I’m fully dressed in my stuff from last night. So maybe not.
“Were you here all night?” Whoa, I sound like a bullfrog.
“I didn’t know how much you drank.” She doesn’t look at me and her lip quivers. “I thought you might get alcohol poisoning or whatever, so I stayed here to make sure you kept breathing.”
“Daphne…” I reach out for her knee, and she puts her hand over mine.
Something
happened last night. Sure wish I could remember what. “I’m so sorry.”
She sucks in a quick breath and her fingers curl around mine. “That was scary as hell, Russ.”
“I’m fine.”
“How do you know? What if something’s wrong with you?”
“My throat is sorer than usual from throwing up, but otherwise this is just a hangover.” I put my hand on my neck, as if I’ll be able to massage the pain away. “So no more worrying, okay?”
She nods, satisfied with the explanation.
“Did you…clean that up?”
“No one else would.”
I cover my face, ashamed of what I put her through. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you did all this for me.”
She lets go of my hand. “They were mad at me just for helping you. Izzy told me to leave when you woke up.”
“They really hate me that much?”
“You know Izzy.”
I do know Izzy. Her temper is ridiculous, and her punishments are over-the-top and absolute. If she thinks I did something to injure her people, then I’m not surprised she’s reacting so intensely. “So what does that mean? Have I been banished?”
“Basically.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t you believe me?”
She bites her lip. “You…said things last night.”
I tense, feeling guilty I have to ask. “You’ll have to jog my memory, if you don’t mind.”
She picks at her nail polish, which means she’s nervous. I can’t believe how much I know about her, and yet it took me so long to see the obvious. “You said me of all people should know you don’t like Keira. But I didn’t know exactly what that meant. It could mean that I know you really well, so I should know you would never do something like that. Or it could mean…”
My heart pounds harder. I want her to say it, to give me a crystal clear sign that I’m not going out on a limb here. “Or what?”
“It’s impossible.” She covers her face. “The other option is impossible. It has to be the first one.”
“What’s impossible?” I push myself up, though it kills. “Just tell me.”
She looks me in the eye, and I know I’m not the only one hoping here. She has to see it on my face, how much I want to be with her.
Then she pops up from her chair. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Either way, I believe you. But you know Izzy won’t care what I think, and she’ll get mad if I stay up here any longer, so…”
“Daphne!” I call as she heads for the door. Against my better judgment, I try to get out of bed. The world spins, and I grab for my desk.
Then she’s there, holding me up again. “You need to rest.”
“I know.” I put my hand on her shoulder, unable to hold this in. She might be afraid, but I’m not. “I just wanted to tell you it’s option two.”
She goes rigid. “What?”
“How could I like Keira”—I tuck her hair behind her ear—“when I have you around?”
She sucks in a breath, shaking her head. “But you’re the most popular guy in school. You have your pick of any girl. You can’t want me.”
I slide down to sit on my bed, too dizzy to stay standing. I pull her hand until she’s sitting next to me. “Who else could I take to get a food handler’s permit? I can talk to you about anything and never have to worry about what you think. I want you. I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. You’re the only girl I’ve ever really cared about.”
Tears stream down her cheeks. I hope they’re happy, but I don’t think they are. “Why does this have to happen
now
?”
“What do you mean?”
She leans on my shoulder, her tears wetting my shirt. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that? And now you have and…” She breaks into sobs. I have no idea what’s going on because I’m pretty sure she said she wanted me to like her. But I hold her and let her cry. I take care of her like she took care of me.
When she composes herself she looks up at me. “We can’t be together.”
My heart sinks. “Why not?”
“Because!” She stands up, furious. “Izzy knows how long I’ve liked you, and last night she got really pissed at me for taking care of you. She thought I was favoring you and thus betraying her. She said I had to pick—you or her.”
“Daph, she’s just overreacting. She can’t—”
“She was dead serious! She thinks you’re a total traitor for abandoning Garret in his ‘greatest hour of need.’ I don’t even think it’s so much about the Keira shit. You know what she’s like: friends for life, defend them to the death. She’s a walking anime character!”
I sigh, frustrated. “So you’re saying you pick her over me?”
“She’s my only friend!” She sobs it, so I barely understand. “I’m not like you. If Izzy disowns me, do you think I have anywhere to go?”
It’s only then that I realize I’m not the only one trapped by my label. Sure, Daphne claims to be herself, but in a lot of ways she isn’t. Around Izzy she has to conform to weirdness whether she wants to or not. Because
she’s
the sidekick. That’s what she meant that day we went to the health department. Sometimes she just wants to be normal and listen to Taylor Swift and like the socially-conforming jock. But she can’t.
“You could be with me.”
Her laugh is sad. “Oh? You think you could just sit me down with Mercedes and Dallas? Dallas, who calls me Clown Bitch on a daily basis?”