Grey
Twelve years old
“GREY—”
My brows draw together as Donovan sits teary-eyed between Liam and me. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe they’re making me leave…and to Spain. I might never see you guys again. Why can’t my parents get a divorce without ruining my life? It’s already bad enough that they’re splitting up.”
Her sadness chokes her voice, and even though I want to make her feel better, all I seem to be able to do is nod as she speaks. All the words are stuck in the back of my throat, making the lump grow bigger. A lump that’s becoming impossible to swallow down each time she looks at me with those sad eyes.
I open my mouth to force out some reassurance when Liam voices what I wish I could but can’t. Because it’s a considerate lie. And I don’t lie to Donovan. Ever.
“We’re here for you, Van. We’ll figure shit out. Everything will be fine. Who cares if your parents want to get a divorce? They should let you live with who you want. It’s so messed up.”
I stupidly nod again, unable to speak, for fear I’d scream until I passed out. This is so unfair. Screw her parents. They can’t make her go. I won’t let them. I have to figure out a plan. Maybe hide her here…nobody gives a shit about what I’m doing. She could probably go unnoticed for months.
I close my eyes as I stare down at my lap because no matter how much I repeat those words in my head, I know it’s bullshit. They can make her go, and they will. We’re just kids, and they’re asshole adults.
They’ll take her away from us. From me.
When she goes, nothing will be the same. Our friendship is forged from status and birthright, but it’s held together by so much more.
I’ll never endure Liam’s stupid jokes—she’s the only one who laughs at them and forces me to laugh too. And there’s no way I’ll make it through middle school without being kicked out a dozen more times. Donovan’s the only person who can help me find a calm place inside myself. Without her, I’ll set it all ablaze.
But they’ll all deserve it for what they’re doing to her. To us. I’ll make sure they pay royally.
“Grey—”
Her teary eyes fix on my face as she reaches to hold my hand, doing the same to Liam. We’ve had her sandwiched between us since she got here, like the glue that binds the three of us together as best friends. Our fingers weave together as I go to work gnawing on my bottom lip, trying to ignore my real worry—who will love me?
Nobody. That’s who.
Liam’s like my brother, but we both carry the burden of our family’s names, already at twelve. He and I… We’ll survive together, but Donovan makes us daydream about living. She’ll wear off like the sweet fragrance of that perfume she just started wearing, and I’ll go back to believing I’m as unlovable as I’m told. I can’t help but drop my eyes to look at our hands when Donovan squeezes mine. It’s like she can read my mind.
Knocking her shoulder into mine, she smiles weakly. “Hey. Maybe you guys can steal your dad’s jet and run operation ‘rescue me.’”
Her joke makes Liam laugh, but all I feel is more anger. This feels like the worst day of my life. Because it is. I don’t want jokes; I want to hug her until she’s invisible to everyone but me and hide her away until we can both escape this version of our lives.
I pull my hand from hers and rub my palms down the rough fabric of my jeans.
“I swear I’ll find a way, Donovan. I promise. They can’t keep you away from us. First. Last. And only.”
She knows exactly what I mean by that. It’s something she came up with when we were ten. The “first” stands for being each other’s first friends. The “last” came when she’d sworn off loving boys forever because Tommy Parker told her she was skinny. We made a pact that Liam and I would be the last boys she’d ever love. And the “only” stands for our only family. In our world, you learn who you can count on at an early age, and servants aside, we’re all we have.
Liam blows out a long breath, falling back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
“I’ll torture my parents until they tell me where you are, and then I’ll send you a present every day, Van.”
“Promise,” she demands, following suit and letting her head lie on his shoulder. “The chocolates with the cherries inside? You know those are my favorites.”
“Fuck yes,” he answers, waggling his eyebrows. “Deal.”
“Ugh. Stop cussing, Liam. You have to learn how to be a gentleman.”
“It’s part of my charm,” he laughs and tickles her side. “Plus, who cares, you’re the only girl I’m nice to.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s nice to hear her giggle. Liam’s the only person who could ever cheer her up in a shit situation. She squirms away from him, bumping into me, before landing a punch on his shoulder.
“Ow, Van.”
“You deserve it,” she snarks, sitting up cross-legged on the bed, patting it for us to do the same.
“Get serious. There’s something I need to say. For real, for real.”
“Okay.”
“Course.” We answer simultaneously, turning and maneuvering ourselves to mimic her position on the bed, as we stare at her expectantly.
“We have to make an oath.”
Our heads bob up and down before we look at each other and grin. Donovan’s never one for the dramatic. It’s why we like her so much. She’s cooler than every other girl, but when she has her moments, she goes all in. So, if the girl wants an oath, we’ll give her one. No questions asked. Because I’m pretty sure there isn’t anything that we wouldn’t do for her.
Donovan surveys us then takes a deep breath before speaking with her eyes closed.
“Promise me. You promise me right now that we’ll always be best friends.”
“Duh.”
“Come on, Van.”
Liam and I glance at each other, confused because that’s not something that we need to promise, not now, not ever. She knows she’s it for us. She’s ours. And lately, more “it” for me than I can tell her. She holds up her hands as her dark lashes lift, exposing her blue eyes, like she needs to prepare herself for what she’s about to say.
“And no matter what”—her finger points between us accusatorially, making us both lean back—“you will never replace me with that bitchy Caroline.”
Liam snorts and covers his mouth, quickly killing his reaction as her eyes widen on him.
“Swear it, Liam Brooks! Or I will hate you forever. You’ll be dead to me. Dead.”
This time it’s my turn to laugh.
“I swear it,” he answers, holding up his hands in surrender, managing to say at least half of it before he breaks and joins my chuckling.
Her head spins to me.
“Swear it, Grey.”
Grinding my teeth, I shake my head at her. “Sworn. But I’m offended you’d need me to swear that. I hate who you hate. Caroline is a troll.”
She does a little victory dance with her shoulders, as we both beam at her, but it’s fleeting. Our smiles fade as the silence grows because that’s the thing about real life—it has a way of ruining everything. Grief bleeds out between us until we’re covered in it, all thinking each other’s thoughts.