Eight years ago
"Love is dead."
Ana's revelation came from the depths of the toilet bowl her head was currently hanging over. I patted her back reassuringly, still holding her pink hair back with one hand.
"Who hurt you, jellybean?" Reyna lounged in the bathtub I was sitting on the edge of, a safe distance away from the vomit. She didn't really know Ana—she was more my friend—but there was nothing like the bathroom of a party to bring girls together.
"Ethan," Ana wailed.
Behind her back, I mouthed, Love of her life.
"The love of my life!"
"I know, honey." I rubbed a comforting circle on her back, and winced as the fresh tears brought on another round of puking.
Reyna cackled at the look on my face. "It's worse because you're sober. I've still got some if you care to share." She offered me the plastic cup she was holding, sloshing half of it over my skirt in the process. "Whoops."
"With my family's track record?" I shook my head. "The last thing I need is to end up like Christy."
Christy, who'd failed a grade because she was too high to do the work and then had to take another year off when she got sent to rehab. Christy, who was five years older and should definitely not be in high school at the same time as me. Christy, who told everyone she was still 19 even though she was only a few months away from being 21. No way was I going to risk following in her footsteps.
"I'm sorry," Ana hiccuped. "Sorry you have to take care of me when this stuff ha-happens."
"It's not your fault," I promised, not bothering to pretend like what she said wasn't true. "Ethan's the one who owes both of us an apology."
"What'd he do?" Reyna wanted to know.
"I can't talk about it." Ana wiped at her mouth with a Kleenex I'd handed her. "Can we discuss someone else's love life please?"
I wiggled my eyebrows at Reyna, who promptly pulled her black bangs over her face and slouched even deeper into the tub. She'd spent all night complaining to me about how her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was nagging her about bringing her GPA up, because he (a junior) wanted to make sure that she (a sophomore) would be able to apply to the same colleges as him. Reyna was brilliant and could have easily brought her grades up if she, like me, wasn't a classic underachiever. The idea that there was something wrong with this had deeply offended her, and I agreed in solidarity.
"Don't look at me," she ordered.
"Lissa?" Ana's tone was hopeful.
"Sorry babe." I shrugged. "Nothing to report."
"Liar!" Reyna stabbed an accusing finger at me. "What about the boy you've had your eyes glued to all night?"
Before I could argue, Ana's head popped up. "Tall? Blonde? Looks like the guy that played Anakin Skywalker?"
Uh-oh. "Hold on—"
"Yes!" Reyna ignored my attempt to cut in. "You know him?"
"Who doesn't? Oh wait, you're new. Sorry I forgot. His name's James Keller, and he's—"
"We're not talking about this," I said loudly.
"—the love of her life." Ana giggled. "She's been crazy about him since third grade when he punched Danny Reagan for pushing her off her swing and making her skee her knin." She frowned. "Knee her skin."
Reyna ignored Ana's babbling. "He's a hottie."
"And a junior, and he nas no idea I exist." I had to interject some reality into this conversation. "So, like I said, nothing to report."
"Too bad. He's cute, you're cute." Reyna shrugged. "You should go for it."
I happened to agree with her. I thought I made a pretty good girlfriend, and I wasn't too bad to look at, either: big hazel eyes, chocolate colored curls, and a body that was too short and curvy to be a model but filled out a sundress pretty nicely. The issue was, James Keller had a type, and I definitely wasn't it.
"He only dates 'special' girls," I grumbled.
I hated talking about this. It made the whole thing feel kind of creepy. I couldn't help it if I was crazy about the guy. Ana wasn't wrong-I'd been head over heels since the tender age of eight and despite our ridiculously small town, could count the number of interactions we'd had on one hand. But a helpless crush was one thing. Chatting about him with my friends when he wouldn't have been able to pick me out of a lineup edged dangerously close to stalker territory.
"Special?" Ana, to her credit, tried very hard not to slur.
"You know, the ones who are super ambitious and driven and always preaching 'down with the establishment' while somehow getting straight A's?"
"Oh." Reyna blinked. "Yeah, that's not you."
"Thanks for the reminder." I stuck my tongue out at her. "Listen Ana, I'm going to go find Allie and ask her to give you a ride home. You gonna be okay for a minute?"
Ana's eyes filled with tears at the mention of her big sister, but she just nodded and sniffled. Allie was pretty cool, and I knew she'd get Ana home discreetly. No need for their parents to see her like this.
"I'll stay with her," Reyna volunteered. "After all, what are newly sympathetic acquaintances for?"
"Careful, Rey," I teased. "If Leon hears you dropping those SAT words, he'll be begging for you to take him back."
Reyna shuddered and put a hand to her stomach. "Now I'm going to be sick."
That made Ana laugh, and I was grateful that they seemed to be getting along. Ana was a little more delicate than Reyna, a theater kid and big softie, while Reyna was sharp-tongued and tough as nails. I had a lot of friends with a lot of different interests, and that had meant some pretty awkward encounters when two of my friend groups clashed. Thankfully this wouldn't be one of those times.
I left them behind and stepped into the hallway, rejoining the party that was still going full blast. This was Christy's bash, thrown in our dead great-aunt's house, and while I knew it was going to end in a spectacular disaster, this part at least was fun. I liked parties because, in a way, I was pretty popular at school. Not in the homecoming queen, class president, everyone-fighting-to-be-my-best-friend way, but still. If I didn't want to be alone, which I usually didn't, I had a range of options to choose from, and at things like this, I never had to try to find someone to hang out with.
Case in point: I was only a few steps down the hallway when I ran into Emma Gallagher, an athletic redhead who helped make our history class tolerable by passing ridiculous drawings back and forth with me. She pointed me in the direction of Allie, who unfortunately was sitting on a couch with Christy. And James. Keller.
I didn't like that he always went by his last name. I thought James was a lovely name. It made me think of the red-cheeked, curly-haired boy who was the first to do a backflip off the diving board at the pool, and didn't laugh like his friends did when Sophia Berkowski cried because she ran a toad over with her bike. This was one of the many things I imagined myself saying to him, when I would catch sight of him from across the cafeteria or see the back of his head as I walked between classes. I knew it was creepy, watching him like that, but I'd long ago accepted the fact that I was physically incapable of being in the same room as him and not looking at him.
It wasn't just that he was beautiful, although he was. The once bright blonde curls were now sandy and kept short enough that they didn't spring everywhere like they had when we were younger, but always looked the perfect amount of messy. His jawline was pronounced, his eyes a color between blue and grey, and he stood a neat six feet, tall but not intimidating. They were textbook good looks. But it was the little things, minor details, that really made him fascinating to look at. Like when he smiled at something his friend was saying, and creases appeared in the corners of his mouth. Or a moment later, when Christy leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and he ran a long-fingered hand down his leg. He did that when he was nervous.
"Hey Chris." I decided now was as good a time as any to interrupt. I was a woman on a mission, and Keller looked like he could use a save.
Christy flicked an annoyed glance my way. "Why are you talking to me?"
"Just wanted to tell you what a great party this is," I said pleasantly. "Can I borrow Allie for a sec?"
I forced myself to keep my eyes on my sister, and not the boy next to her.
"Christy's not my handler," Allie snorted. "What's up?"
Leaning down, I tried to be as quiet as possible as I caught her up on the situation with Ana, though I thought Christy still caught bits and pieces.
"I'm going to kill her," Allie sighed, not sounding like she meant it. "And then that worm Ethan. And then me."
Christy saluted with her drink. "Put me on that list."
I stood there for a moment as Allie got up, not knowing if I should follow her or take her place. The look Christy gave me answered this question for me. I was on Allie's heels when I heard Christy swear, and Keller's friend said, "What?"
"Cops. Jessie just texted me and said she saw two squad cars going down the street. They'll be here in like thirty seconds."
"Just don't let them in. They can't get in without a warrant."
"There's like a dozen wasted high school kids in the front yard, I'm pretty sure they won't need a warrant. Lissa!"
I whirled around like the puppet I was, my strings thoroughly yanked. "What?"
Christy was on her feet now, though she didn't look very steady. "We need to clear this place out. If my parole officer hears about this she's going to lose it!"
Obediently, I climbed up on the coffee table and cupped my hands around my mouth. "Everybody out! The cops are coming!"