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I finally wrestle the bottle away and search for the cap in my pockets and on the ground.
“Have you ever smoked pot?” Daria asks.
“No. Do you know where’s the lid is for this?” Things are starting to get a little blurry around the edges, and I sway when I lean over to pat the tiles around my chair.
“No friggin’ idea. Did you know someone died out here last year?” She gestures at the pool.
“What?” I ask, goosebumps exploding over my arms. Her dad was accused of murder, but I thought it was at some construction site, not at their house.
“Yeah,” Daria says. “I didn’t know her very well, even though she was sort of friends with Lindsey. But she was close with her brother.”
I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat. “He killed her?” I ask, my heart hammering erratically.
“No, you dork,” Daria says, scowling at me. “Preston had some friends over, and Destiny jumped off the balcony into the pool and… Missed.”
The image my mind conjures makes my stomach heave, and I’m sure I’m going to barf into the pool. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah,” Daria says, staring up into the snowflakes. “Lindsey wasn’t hanging out with them, but she saw her… Body… When they took her away.”
My mind churns as sickeningly as my stomach. I can’t imagine seeing that, even if it was a stranger, and for it to be a friend… Is that why her brother is like that? Did it mess him up in the head?
Destiny.
Her name brings me back to that day on the stairs. Preston told me I could never replace her.
“I need to lie down,” I say, leaning back in the chair and gripping my trembling middle.
“We should smoke pot,” Daria says.
“No, we should put the whiskey back before we wake up Lindsey’s parents. I’m going to…going to…”
I forget what I’m going to do because I’ve looked up again. I feel dizzy, but my insides are warm and a burning feeling is spreading out from my stomach, melting all the snow that can fall on my face. A big flake falls into my open eye, and I can feel it melt on my eyeball.
“I love you, Sky,” Daria slurs. “You’re, like, my best friend ever.”
“You too.”
“Really?” Daria shrieks.
Before I can answer, the glass doors slide open, and Lindsey’s dad glares out at us.
nine
Now Playing:
“3AM”—Matchbox Twenty
“What are you girls doing out here?” Mr. Darling asks, squinting at us through the cold. When we don’t answer, his eyes take in the scene. “Are youdrunk?”
“Hells yeah, we’re drunk,” Daria says, waving the bottle around. She’s a lot drunker than I am. Seeing Lindsey’s dad has sobered me considerably. I wish I’d been holding the bottle so I could have shoved it in my coat and played dumb. But Daria tells it like it is, even when she shouldn’t.
“ThatslutElaine slept with my boyfriend,” Daria babbles. “And now I’m drunk! What are you gonna do, call my mom? She’s probably drunk too!” She cackles at that, but Mr. Darling only scowls more fiercely.
“Get inside, right now,” he snaps, his lips tight.
A shiver works through me when I think about the mysterious deaths that happen around the men in this family.
Inside, we follow him to the den. I’m relieved to see Blair standing there, a silk robe pulled tightly around her. I cast a guilty glance at her. I guess I won’t be invited to Lindsey’s house anymore.
