My Sweetest Escape (22 page)

strangers, but it would be awful if one of my

friends or something said it. I don’t know.” I

tried to take the laptop away as I felt my

ears getting red.

Hannah wouldn’t let me have it.

“No way. You shared this with me and

I’m going to take it all in. I told you that you

were a good writer, and you are. You’re

really, really good. Why are you not an

English major?”

Shit. I didn’t know showing her my blog

would lead to a rehash of things I didn’t

want to talk about.

“Because I don’t fancy working in food

service for the rest of my life or ending up

living in a refrigerator box on the street.”

Hannah smacked me on the arm.

“You would never end up in a box on the

street. Hello?

Do you see where you are living right

now? Your sister and all her friends would

never let that happen. You have a whole

fucking houseful of people that care about

you and you can’t even see it.”

What was that about?

“I’m not ungrateful. Do I seem

ungrateful?”

She sighed and gave my computer back.

“No, that’s not what I meant. That was

just my little jealousy monster rearing his

incredibly ugly head. Just forget it.”

“You have people who care about you. I

care about you,”

I said, putting my arm around her. “Once

again, I totally sounded like I was into you.

But you knew what I meant, right?”

“Totally. And I care about you, too.”

We shared a completely not awkward

hug and then started laughing.

“So, a frat party, huh? Did you ever think

that the best revenge is living well? I read

that somewhere, and I think it would work

in this situation. We’ll get you a killer dress

and the ladies of Yellowfield House can

make you up and then we can go and you

can shove it in their faces. If they think they

got to you, they win. If you show them you

don’t give a shit, then you win,” I said.

She shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s not as good as dumping buckets of

pig’s blood on them.” Thinking about Carrie

reminded me that Stephen King lived right

down the street. I told Hannah and I

thought her eyeballs were going to fall out

of her head.

“I knew he lived in Bangor, but I didn’t

know where.”

“Yeah, we can drive by or something

sometime. We could even creepily walk by.

But we’d probably get arrested. He’s got

security cameras and stuff.”

We both walked back up the stairs and

found everyone sitting in the living room,

pretending they weren’t waiting for

us—except Renee and Paul.

“We didn’t kill each other, and we didn’t

devolve into a girl fight of hair-pulling and

eye-gouging, if anyone was worried about

that,” Hannah said, slinging her arm over

my shoulder. “See? All good.”

Everyone seemed to sigh in relief.

“But I think I owe your sister an apology,

so I’m going to go do that,” Hannah said,

heading for the stairs as if she’d been in the

house a hundred times.

I didn’t know if that was a good idea, but

I wasn’t going to stop her.

I sat down on the couch next to Taylor,

and she leaned her head on my shoulder.

“You know, I’ve never been to a frat

party, either. I was a bit curious about the

experience, as well.”

Hunter made a grumbling noise.

“What, you don’t think I can defend

myself against a few drunk frat guys? I

defended myself pretty good against you,”

she said.

His eyes narrowed and he pointed at

her. “Touché, Missy. Touché.”

Dusty seemed to be watching me. Why

hadn’t he gone home yet?

“I’m going to go check on them,” he said

suddenly, popping to his feet. “I’m not sure

who my money would be on in a fight

between Hannah and Renee.” He jogged up

the stairs, his pants sliding lower and lower.

One of these days I was going to ask him

how they stayed up. But he’d make some

weird comment and then I’d blush and that

wouldn’t be fun. I didn’t need to give him

any more fuel.

“I always wished I had red hair,” Taylor

said, running her fingers through mine. Hers

was so pretty, though. It did that

beachy-wave thing that I could never pull

off. My hair just sort of…hung on my head.

“So you’d have an excuse to fly off the

handle?” Hunter said, picking up his guitar

again. It seemed to be his go-to in times of

turmoil.

“Ha-ha, you wish,” Taylor said.

We sat for a few more minutes as Mase

turned on NESN and checked the sports

stats. Both Hannah and Dusty had been

gone for longer than I was comfortable

with, but it was nearly silent upstairs.

I got up and went for the stairs. I heard

the rest of them talking behind me, but I

didn’t care.

Being careful to walk quietly and

carefully, I approached Renee and Paul’s

room. The door was cracked just a bit.

Dusty’s voice was the one I heard first.

“She’s going to have so many people

watching her, she won’t be able to sneeze

without one of us saying ‘bless you.’ Trust

me.”

“Why should I trust you?” That was

Renee.

I leaned closer and maybe a little too

far, catching myself off balance and banging

into the door, which slammed open and

banged off the wall. Not the most graceful

of entrances I’d ever made.

“Sorry, I just came up to see if

everything was okay. I didn’t hear anything

downstairs, so I was hoping I wasn’t going

to come up and find a pile of bodies and

one of you holding a knife or something,” I

said, trying to save myself.

“Where would someone get a knife in

my bedroom?”

Renee said, recovering first from being

burst in on.

“You do have that really pointy nail file,”

Paul said, chiming in. Dusty was composed

but Hannah was a little red faced.

I wanted, desperately, to know what

Dusty’s answer to Renee’s question would

have been, but I couldn’t admit that I’d

been listening.

“Sorry I flew off the handle,” Renee said,

sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“No, it’s okay. Mom would have done

the same thing,”

I said.

“But I’m not your mom. Even though

you’ve made some bad decisions in the

past, you’ve been doing really great lately,

and I haven’t given you enough credit. I’m

proud of you.”

The praise was going right to my ears,

and I could feel them heating up. She

couldn’t have done this when we were

alone?

I mean, I didn’t care if she did it with

Paul around, because he was practically

family, but with Dusty and Hannah there, it

was embarrassing.

Dusty cleared his throat and moved

toward the door, shoving his hands into his

pockets.

“I think that’s my cue to go home. I’ll see

you all…at some point. Okay, good night.”

He was out of there quicker than you could

say “saggy pants.”

“Sometimes I have an issue picking up

on social cues, but this isn’t one of those

times. I will see you tomorrow, Jos.

Thanks for understanding, Renee. ’Bye,

Paul.” Hannah scurried after Dusty, and I

was left with Renee and Paul.

“I think I’m going to give you two a

minute.” Paul left and closed the door

quietly behind him. I sat down next to

Renee on the bed.

“So what were you talking about when I

made my awesome entrance?” I said.

“Nothing. Hannah was just explaining

her reasons for wanting to go to the party. I

swear, ninety percent of guys are complete

and utter douche bags.” She closed her

eyes and flopped backward.

“If that’s true, then how is it possible

that we have three non–douche bags living

in this house? I mean, those are, like,

Powerball odds.” I joined her and let myself

fall backward and we stared at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. But I’m thinking we

should start buying more scratch tickets,”

she said.

The comforter was bunched up under

my head, so I smoothed it out.

“You ever take that thing off?” She

reached for my bracelet, fingering the

elephant charm.

“No.” I let her play with it for a second

longer and then turned on my side,

propping my head on my hand. She did the

same. It felt like when we were little and

used to build forts out of pillows and sheets

in the living room with all the chairs from

the dining room. That was before a lot of

our siblings entered our lives. All I could

remember was that it was pretty quiet back

then.

“Sometimes I feel so old,” she said.

“How so?”

“Just between everything with Mom and

Dad and with our family being so crazy. Do

you remember that time when Mom forgot

us at school and we had to hitchhike?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Which time?” It had happened often in

our youth.

“It’s a wonder the two of us even

managed to turn out relatively normal.” I

tapped the side of her head.

“Relatively? Speak for yourself.”

“Hey, ‘relatively normal’ is a compliment

for you,” she said, grabbing a pillow and

whacking me with it.

“What the hell?” I dived and got a hold

of one and smacked her back. And then,

because we were sisters, we had a pillow

fight. Renee didn’t have down pillows, so

there were no feathers, but it got pretty

ridiculous anyway.

By the time both of us were out of

breath, we had an audience. One of the

guys must have heard us yelling and

carrying on and thought we were killing

each other, but they found us collapsed and

laughing in exhaustion.

“So, you’re good, then?” Mase said.

“Because you could, you know, keep doing

that. I wouldn’t complain.” He grinned, and

Darah made a disgusted sound.

“I think the odds are going down,” I said

to Renee and she laughed.

“What odds?” Hunter said.

“Never mind,” we both said at the same

time.

Hannah was more reluctant to go

shopping than a virgin being led to the

sacrificial altar.

“You agreed to this plan. It will be okay, I

swear,” I said as I drove us toward the

Bangor Mall. She kept changing the radio

stations and it was driving me mad. I finally

reached out and turned off the radio.

I drove around a few times and found a

parking spot near the Dick’s Sporting Goods

store. I got my purse and was about to get

out of the car when Hannah’s hand reached

out and stopped me.

“Okay, so you know how we’ve been

sharing stuff lately, and I have to tell you

that I haven’t been shopping in, like, two

years.” She bit her lip and shrugged.

I sat back in my seat in shock.

“For serious?” I said.

“I mean, not like food shopping, but

clothes shopping.”

This was astounding, because she

always looked cute, in a punk/vintage kind

of way. She’d wear something that looked

like it belonged in a 1950s period piece with

something that had spikes or grommets or

leather. “I buy everything online. I know

which major retailers make their shirts

small and don’t even get me started on

shoes.”

“Why do you hate shopping so much?”

She gave me an icy look that told me she

thought it was more than obvious and I

should know without having to ask. “I

mean, is that it?”

“Is that it? Do you have any idea what

it’s like to go into a changing room and have

the attendant look at you like a leper? It’s

like they’re afraid I’m going to ruin the

clothes. And then the other people stare

and those horrible lights make you look

awful. It’s just an experience that I decided I

didn’t want to participate in anymore. Nude

modeling is one thing, but shopping is

completely different.”

“Then why did you say okay?”