“I forgot how annoying this stretch is,” Beck says as she takes a pull from her Dr Pepper she bought at a drive-thru. “Bottlenecking at its finest. At least we have Sonic.”
We’ve been in near-constant communication about the logistics of this trip, but it hits me just how much we didn’t say to each other. The gaps of silence in conversation scream at me from the tight space of the car. She and I aren’t going on some trip with the volleyball team. We’re going into the woods where my friends’ bodies were found. Yes, we packed pepper spray and a Taser and a few knives, but neither of us have ever used them in a life-or-death situation. For all the planning that went into this, it feels like we’re approaching it in denial. No amount of freeze-dried snacks or a good waterproof tent is going to matter if our theories are right and someonekilledPaisley, Harlow, and Opal. It won’t get my voice note back before Beck and the world can find out where I really was that night.
I snort. “Is that really that exciting for you?”
She shakes her head. “Clearly you’ve never had a parent who got an eating disorder from Hollywood.”
I think she’s making a dark joke, but it lands a little too heavily. But then Beck picks it up as flawlessly as she plays volleyball.
“Basically, my mom never even makes us dinner unless we want her juice cleanses, and volleyball constantly has me on a chicken and broccoli diet. If I bring anything that isn’t exclusively made of whitemeat or vegetables or fruit into the house, my family literally has me throw it away outside.”
“Jesus,” I say. “Paisley ate normal food.”
Beck rolls her eyes. “Paisley ate however would make her seem most normal and ‘good’ to whoever she was with. You know how people do that with their personalities, right? She’s been doing that since she was, like, ten. She does the switching so much, I honestly don’t know what food she actually likes.”
My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
“Trust me, with how seriously she took those auditions, my mother discovering Paisley had candy hidden away would’ve been as scandalous as her finding Paisley with a vibrator or a weird porn collection. No greater shame.”
“Is your mom that strict with you?”
“Nah. I have a different reputation in the family.” I wait for her to elaborate, but she changes the subject instead. “Do you take this stretch often?”
A twinge of disappointment hits my chest as I realize Beck is taking us back to small talk. As horrifying as her family dynamic is, it was nice to get to know her deeper.
“We do a couple trips around California and the nearby states every year,” I answer. “Joshua Tree, Yosemite, Las Vegas, Phoenix. My parents love to hike and the rest of us got okay at it through trial by fire.”
Beck snorts. “Thank godoneof us understands the woods.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t think Paisley, Harlow, and Opal…had that.”
It wasn’t supposed to come out as a joke, but my chest hitches as I sense my own weird tone. I look over to Beck but can’t read her expression. She scratches her arm like she has a mosquito bite and doesn’t answer.
“I just mean—even before they—I’m surprised they didn’t get lost. They never seemed like tent camping people to me. Truthfully, I don’t even know why they went onthattrip.”
Beck sighs. “I know why, but I hate telling you.”
I swallow the lump threatening to stick to my throat. “I figured.”
“Do you want to know?”
“They think I’m annoying?”
Even having heard this from people nearly all my life, in that moment, all I want is for Beck to say something else. I made the trip too expensive, I have a bad fashion sense and they don’t want me in their social media pictures, I have bad breath. Ifannoyingis how people perceive me when all I’ve ever been able to be is myself, where else is there to go?
Every second Beck doesn’t answer only makes the pinch of embarrassment worse.
“They…well, Paisley mentioned to Harlow that it was a long trip to have you on.”
Beck’s spoken, but the pain in my chest doesn’t dissipate.
The kinder, more insidious way to sayEmma’s annoying.
So, yeah.
I look away from Beck, fingers finding the door handle. I can’t open it, but I wish I could escape.
“You still with me?” Beck says. “I’m sorry. I never want anyone to feel that way. My sister, Harlow, and Opal suck. Sucked.”
