KIKI:bitch why are you always an hour late
CARLA:chill we went to buy shit
CARLA:I got the stuff
KIKI:what stuff???
CARLA:
KIKI:omg WHAT where did you find it?!!!
CARLA:Costco
KIKI:wtf why do they have that at Costco
CARLA:costco has everything bitch!!!
KIKI:ok ok just store it in the shed when you get here
CARLA:
9
“I’m Carla, by the way,” Carla says as we reenter the living room, as if I wouldn’t already know who she was.
What catches me off guard is the ease in her tone. Light and airy in a way that doesn’t seem possible for a girl who regularly makes people cry if they so much as look at her the wrong way. And especially not toward me—someone she has history with.
We haven’t interacted since Papi’s trial, though we hardly ever interacted before that either. The cameras loved her almost as much as she loved them—the young, beautiful grieving girlfriend. She’d played her part perfectly, dabbing her tears with a monogrammed handkerchief every time a camera was shoved in her face. Sang the praises of her now-dead boyfriend, about how she was sure they were going to be forever—even though everyone knew they’d broken up nearly a month before the murder. With a story as juicy as my father’s, though, the newscasters didn’t bother to fact-check the teen drama side of the matter.
Still, I wouldn’t blame her for hating me. It’s hard seeing a reminder of someone you lost every day.
Carla slinks across the room to slide into the unfamiliar boy’s lap. His arms instantly snake around her waist as he presses a sloppy kiss to her neck—the gesture strangely heatedconsidering they’re in front of an audience. Beside me, Kiki rolls her eyes while Kai shifts uncomfortably.
“And this is my boyfriend, Timothy,” Carla explains on his behalf, playfully pulling down the brim of his ballcap when he continues trying to glom onto her like a dog in heat.
Finally, the pieces click into place. Timothy Gibson, captain of the football team and the subject of several summons to the principal’s office over the PA loudspeaker. Sports have never interested me, even when Papi was at the helm of the Millcreek soccer team, so my knowledge of Timothy beyond his name and status is limited. From what I can tell, he’s equal parts talented and troublesome. And, apparently, Carla’s boyfriend.
They fit together well, even aside from their cheerleader and football player labels. Like Kiki, Carla Gutierrez is the type of beautiful that skyrockets you to the top of the social pyramid. With her thick, dark hair trailing down to her lower back and dewy light brown skin, she looks perfectly sun kissed in a town defined by its overcast skies. I can’t remember the last time we had multiple days of sunshine in a row—even in summer—but you’d never guess it from the glow radiating off Carla. She doesn’t seem bothered by the slight October chill either, dressed in a Guns N’ Roses crop top and cutoff shorts with a flannel tied around her waist. Together, she and Timothy look like the kind of couple girls like me long to be in. The type whose photos you see splashed across manifestation boards because they have the perfect carefree teenage aesthetic.
Over Carla’s shoulder, Timothy’s eyes find mine, and he shoots me a lazy smile that makes my cheeks flush.
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a tight-lipped smile, unsurewhat to do. Offering a hand to shake feels too formal and a wave feels too childish, so instead I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweater. As Carla swings her legs off Timothy’s lap and crosses the room to the flatscreen, I realize I forgot to actually introduce myself.They all know who you are, what you are,a voice that sounds unsettlingly like Mami’s whispers in my ear.
Before I can dwell on that thought, Carla flips the TV on and starts scrolling through the various streaming apps on the home screen.
“How scary are we thinking?” Carla asks as she opens up Netflix and navigates straight to the horror section. “Actually scary, or so-cheesy-it’s-hilarious scary?” She hovers between two options—one, a low-budget slasher about a killer ventriloquist dummy, and the other an experimental folk horror about a demon haunting an Austrian village.
“Actually scary,” Timothy says at the exact same moment Kiki says “cheesy.”
Kai and I stay quiet while Kiki and Timothy stare each other down. Kiki’s brow furrows, her glare so piercing I’d probably melt on the spot if it was directed at me. Timothy, though, just holds his hands up in surrender.
“Have it your way, wimp,” he says before pulling a joint and a lighter out of his pocket.
“Outside,” Kiki snaps before Timothy can flick the flame to life, snatching the joint out of the corner of his mouth. “We’re not getting grounded for a month because you decided to stink up the place.”
Kai nods in agreement as Timothy rolls his eyes before begrudgingly picking himself up off the couch. “Fine,” he mutters, waving his hand lazily as he trudges toward the slidingdoor leading to the back deck. He pauses, taking in Kai’s costume properly for the first time.
“Dude, weren’t you Spider-Man for Carla’s birthday party?”
