“It’s not a big secret. She has something of mine. Like…” I said, waving my beer and letting the foam slosh up through the opening, “blackmail.”
“What?” Brandon’s head sprung back. “Cass, that’s—should we—should I—?”
“No.” I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t do anything. The last thing I need is for her to remember I exist.”
Brandon sighed and took my mysteriously empty can. He walked over to the kitchen and came back with a full one. I grabbed it. Popped it open. Poured the lukewarm, bubbling liquid down my throat.
He settled back down. “There’s got to be a way to even the score,” he said, leaning closer. “Something to keep her quiet.” His now-blurry face grinned.
“What’d you have in mind? Ooh, I know! She wins a free makeover at the mall in Rosedale. But while she thinks she’s getting her makeup done, she’s actually getting our faces tattooed on her face.”
“But how—”
“Okay, yeah, bad one.” I took a few more sips. “We could send her a letter from these big Hollywood movie producers saying they want her to star in their new film. But really, we’re the movie producers and we get some random kid with a camera to film her doing all sorts of stupid crap that we can splice together to create Melody Davenport: Documentary of a Dimwit.”
“Now you’re thinking. Or we pay some poor sap to go out with her. If she ever threatens you again, we tell everyone she was dating a male escort the whole time.”
“Are you regurgitating the plot to every movie ever watched at a thirteen-year-old’s slumber party?”
“Thirteen-year-olds watch movies about male escorts?” His brows furrowed playfully.
“You might be onto something with getting her a boyfriend, though.” I chugged the rest of the can. “Maybe if Melody is happily in love, she’ll leave the rest of us alone for a while.”
“Or, I could get her alone somewhere,” he said, dropping his voice. “A mountaintop with a view, like Vista de La Luna. And then, whoops. She fell.”
I snorted into my sleeve. “Or you could kiss too long, and oh dear, I think she suffocated.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, feigning shock.
Brandon laughed, flashing that dimple on his right cheek. “I doubt anyone could really get away with murder in Maribel. Everyone sees everything. When I was nine, I tried to steal a candy bar from Carver’s. By noon, my mom and everyone else in town knew about it. No one kills anyone here because they’d get caught.”
“You could get away with it,” I said smugly. “Trust me, as a longtime viewer of the Investigation Discovery channel. You’d just have to know the perfect place. The perfect time. The perfect method. It could definitely be done.”
He shook his head, an amused curve to his features. “Now I’m really curious about what she’s got on you.”
I turned away. “Just something on her phone.”
“Something we could delete?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “If we had her password.”
He was silent for a long beat. Then he nodded once. With finality. “Whatever it is, I’m going to fix it for you.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and when I tilted my head, a fuzzy Gideon stared down at me. “Hey, everything good?” I couldn’t help but notice his focus on the lack of space separating Brandon’s hand and my thigh.
“Of course.” I stood up, swaying a little. Gideon wrapped an arm around my hip to steady me.
“Some of us are headed to Gina’s, but I’ll tell Asher to take you home.”
“No, I want to come. We—we want to come. Right, Brayden?” I giggled at the intentional fumble and motioned with a floppy hand for Brandon to follow us.
He shrugged. “Sure, Casey. Why not top off a few beers with a double chocolate shake? What could go wrong?”
“What could go wrong?” I slurred.
Gideon pressed his lips flat and slung Brandon a look. It sent an effervescent charge through me. Even in my muddled head, I knew what that look meant.
Ten minutes later, we squeezed into a red booth at Gina’s Diner. I nestled against the wall with Gideon at my side, watching the red and white checkered tiles across the room shift and drop like a game of Tetris. Brandon sat down across from me with Asher on the end.
More kids from the party spilled into the diner until every booth and counter stool became occupied. Melody settled into the booth behind us, and I crouched low in my seat, willing myself invisible. Tina, Laura, and Dave joined her.
Our table ordered a round of milkshakes and two baskets of fries to share. Brandon asked the waitress if he could borrow a pen, and then he grabbed a napkin from the dispenser. He began scribbling, shielding the napkin with his letterman jacket–covered arms.
Behind him, Melody started blabbing about Seth, who admittedly, was leering off in the corner at an odd hour of the night. “What a stalker,” she said loud enough for the entire bustling diner to hear. Seth was dressed in the Carver’s standard employee uniform, a blue button-down shirt. His little name pin still clung to the front, like he’d just finished a shift. Melody spun around to face him. “You can stop staring at us now. Weirdo.”
Seth reddened, his gaze lowering to his Coke.
The waitress came back to our table and started passing out milkshakes. I attempted to talk to Gideon, but Melody had used her diner employee privileges to duck behind the counter and crank up the ’50s music. She and Laura began dancing and trying to tug the guys from their seats. Asher pulled out his phone, like he was regretting his decision to chaperone a bunch of children. A blushing Gideon tried to shake the girls off. Dave shrugged and got up, smiling like a dopey Prince Charming as his bulky body swayed awkwardly on the diner floor. I sat still, enjoying the show until a warm hand brushed mine. When I looked down, my palm cupped a napkin.
Brandon smiled at me from across the booth, and I was still beguiled or intoxicated enough to smile back. The napkin was folded into eighths. I unfolded as discreetly as possible.
Cass, just wanted to let you know you’re still wrong. It isn’t possible
I rested my chin on my fist, a smile tugging at my mouth. Brandon was trying to keep the comradery going. The thought gave me a rush, like drinking three espressos, one after another. Joking with Brandon, sharing our darkest secrets. It was thrilling in a way nothing else was.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Laura had stopped dancing to glare icily at me. She probably thought Brandon was asking me on a date.
I pressed a knuckle to my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Let her think that. I fumbled around for the pen, knocking over a water glass. Gideon wiped it up with more napkins, but not before it had seeped through the one in my hand. I dug inside my purse and pulled out the notebook, flipping the spiral-bound pages to a clean section at the back. Then I started scribbling.