I run my fingers along the gently worn fabric and admire the zipper detail in the front. “He left me some alkaline seltzer and a note,” I tell her like it’s no big deal. It isn’t, really. He’s just being friendly because we’re friends.
“That’s sweet of him.”
“He probably just recognized how pathetic I was and knew I’d need the help.”
“Oh my God, you were wasted.” She laughs.
I slap a hand over my face. “Don’t remind me. God, why did I think funneling a beer was a smart idea?”
“Because Reese Soto asked you to, and girls have been known to do stupid things for that boy.”
I frown. “How many girls?”
She hooks her arm around my neck and we wander over to another row of clothes. “Reese is the playboy of the three of them, and Aaron is the good guy.”
“And what’s Devin?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“Currently? He’s the asshole.”
“Why so?”
“It’s a long story,” she says, flipping through hangers.
“I feel like we’ve got time.”
“Okay, so back at graduation he broke up with his girlfriend, Truly. It was a whole thing.”
“The girl with the purple hair?”
She grins at me, “Doing some Insta-stalking, I see.”
I shrug. “A bit. It’s weird being gone for so long; I feel like I’ve missed major chunks of the story and I’m only now able to piece them together.”
She nods. “I get that. Well, Devin and Truly were like Newton’s version of Romeo and Juliet, only without all the poison and daggers and stuff.”
“Star-crossed lovers?”
“Something like that. She’s from the west side.”
I whistle, slipping my phone from my pocket and opening Instagram. Even though I’ve been gone for eight years, I remember the invisible line that ran through Newton. The kids on the west side never had to worry about coming home to their power being cut off or worse, an eviction notice tacked to the door. “Why’d they break up?” I ask, absently scrolling through pictures of her and Devin. They looked happy enough.
She shrugs. “Not sure. I’ve known Devin my whole life, but I don’t really know him, ya know. Like he never lets anyone get close to him, aside from you.” She points to the phone. “And then her. Anyway, it’s probably for the best.”
“Why do you say that?”
She looks at me like this is a simple concept. “Because she’s one of them. Her and Devin never really made sense. They bonded over trauma, not because they had anything in common. She just fits better with Noah.”
“How so?”
“Because Noah rules the west side, while Dev is the king of the misfits. They’ve drawn a line in the sand, a line down the middle of the school for that matter, and you’re either on Team Noah or Team Devin. No one has ever switched teams before Truly and look what an epic disaster that has turned into.”
“It couldn’t have been all bad if they were in love,” I try.
“What is love? It’s a bullshit social construct, if you ask me. You can’t eat it. It won’t keep you warm. You need more than love to make it through this life. You need someone who understands you, and not for nothing, Truly is a sweet girl, but she’ll never know what it’s like to be hungry, and he’ll never know what it’s like to not to have to fight for every scrap.”
“Opposites can attract,” I say. “People can change their circumstances.”
“True, but you can’t change who you are as a person. And fundamentally, Noah and Tru just make more sense—and if you repeat that to anyone, I’ll deny it.”
I chew on her words as we shop around. My eyes land on a faded black t-shirt. I reach for it and pull out a vintage looking Star Wars shirt that says, May The Force Be With You. “Oh my God! I need this.”
“Yes.” She takes it from my hand and holds it up to my chest. “It’s going to look so badass with your skirt. Reese is going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
I take the shirt from her hand and finger the soft fabric and sigh.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just got really nervous about the party. About Reese, and this whole sex thing. Maybe we should start with me learning how to drive?”
She laughs. “You don’t have to have sex with him tonight, or ever if it’s not what you want. The goal is to have fun, remember? Flirt and stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“You know. Making out, heavy petting.”
“No, I don’t know. I don’t have any experience.” I grit out. “What if he thinks I suck? Or decides I’m not worth it?” I don’t know where these insecurities are coming from. I’ve never been the type of girl who is insecure about boys, although I’ve also never been the type of girl who really pays attention to boys at all. Maybe that’s why my muse has gone? How can I paint with a passion I’ve never experienced?
“Wait, you’ve never even made out with a boy?”
“I’m pathetic.”
“No. No. Not pathetic, you’ve just been focused. You got into one of the best art schools in the country. But now it’s time to relax. Stop overthinking everything. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, with Reese or anyone else for that matter. Just do what feels good. What feels right.”
“I can do that.” I nod.
7
Chapter 7
Roni, age 18
“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” I ask twisting and turning in front of Chloe’s full-length mirror. We left the thrift store, then stopped past Big Al’s 24-Hour Diner for an early dinner, before heading to her house to get ready.
At first, I’d thought she’d lost her mind. There was no way we needed five hours to get dressed for a house party, right?
Wrong.
In my defense, I didn’t realize getting ready would include taking shots of spiced rum, a forty-five-minute K-pop dance break, or the two hours she spent doing our make-up, or the post dinner snack she insisted we eat because ‘drinking on an empty stomach is just asking for a hangover.’
I’ve showered, shaved, lotioned, and been spritzed with enough sugared lavender body spray to put another hole in the ozone layer.
“No,” Chloe says rubbing pink gloss over her pink lipstick. “You look totally fuckable.”
I roll my eyes. “Define fuckable.”
“Fuckable, adjective. A person who could get it any day of the week and twice on the weekend.” She winks at me and caps the gloss, tossing it in her purse.
I giggle. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re fuckable. Reese is going to lose his shit. Now, what size shoe do you wear?”
“Seven.”
“Me too!” She disappears inside her closet and returns with a pair of sky high heels. “Try these.”
“Oh no.” I shake my head.
“Veronica.” She narrows her eyes. “What happened to our summer of yes?”