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Youre really unbelievable.
Im suddenly aware that Alex is talking to me. His lips are curled back, showing all his teeth.
You know what you are? He puts one hand on either side of my head so hes blocking me in. I can see sweat on his forehead and smell weed and beer on his breath. You, Samantha Kingston, are a bitch.
Hearing that jolts me, wakes me up. I have to focus. Juliet is off somewhere in the woods, in the cold. Shes probably making for the road. I can still find her, talk to her, get her to see.
I put both hands on Alexs chest and shove him. He stumbles backward.
Ive heard it before, I say. Trust me.
I force my way through the hallway and am halfway down the stairs when someone calls my name. I stop dead so that the people behind me bump each other like dominoes and start cursing at me.
Jesus Christ, what? I whirl around and see Kent, who leapfrogs over the banister and swings down onto the stairs, nearly taking out Hanna Gordon.
You came. He lands two stairs above me, a little out of breath. His eyes are bright and happy. His hair is falling over his forehead, picking up light from the Christmas bulbs strung everywhere, bits of it the color of chocolate and some of it caramel. I have an almost uncontrollable urge to reach over and push it back behind his ears.
I said I would, didnt I? Theres a dull pain unfurling in my stomach. All I wanted all nightall daywas to be standing this close to him. And now I have no time. Listen, Kent
I mean, I thought you were probably here when I saw Lindsay, et al. You guys usually travel in packs, you know? But then I was looking for you He stops himself, blushes. I mean, not actively looking. Really just kind of perusing the crowd, you know, as I was walking around socializing. Thats what youre supposed to do when you host. Socialize. So I was just keeping an eye out
Kent. My voice comes out sharp, mean, and I close my eyes just for a second, imagining what it felt like to lie with him in total darkness, imagining the touch of his hand on mine. It suddenly occurs to me how impossible all of this iswith me and him. When I open my eyes hes just standing there, waiting, a little crease in his forehead: so adorable and normal, the kind of guy who deserves the kind of girl who wears cashmere sweaters and is really good at crossword puzzles, or plays the violin, or volunteers at soup kitchens. Someone nice and normal and honest. The pain in my stomach intensifies, as though somethings caught in there, snapping away at my insides. I could never be good enough for him. Even if I lived the same day into infinity, I could never be good enough.
Im sorry, I force myself to say. II cant talk to you right now.
But He tucks his hands into the cuffs of his shirt, looking uncertain.
Im sorry. Its better, I almost say, but I figure theres no point. I dont look back, either, even though I can feel him watching me.
Outside I pull on my fleece, zipping it all the way up to my chin. The rain drives down my neck and spots my leggings immediately. At least tonight Im wearing flats. I stick to the driveway. The pavement is icy and I have to reach out and brace myself against the cars as I pass. The cold tears at my lungs, and its so strange, but in the middle of all this I have the stupidest, simplest thoughtI should really jog moreand as soon as I think it I almost come undone, torn with the dual desire to laugh and to cry. But the thought of Juliet crouching by Route 9, watching the cars whiz past, waiting for Lindsay, keeps me going.
Eventually the sounds of the party drop away, and then its silent except for the driving rain, like thousands of tiny shards of glass falling on the pavement, and my footsteps ringing out. Its dark, too, and I have to slow down, moving from one car to the next with my hands, the metal so cold under my fingers it feels hot. When I find the Tank, hulking above all the others, I fish through my bag until my fingers close around cold metal and a rhinestone-encrusted key chain that reads BAD GIRL. Lindsays car keys. I blow air out of my cheeks. This, at least, is a good thing. Theres no way Lindsay can leave without me. Her car wont be on the road tonight, no matter how long Juliet waits. Still, I lock and double-lock the doors.
Then the cars drop away, too, and I shuffle forward at a crawl, mentally cursing myself for not bringing a flashlight, cursing February 12, cursing Juliet Sykes. I see now that the roses were a stupid idea, an insult, even. I think of Juliet and Lindsay all those years ago in a tent, when Lindsay raised a finger and pointed, terrified, humiliated, and it all began. And for years Juliet kept Lindsays secret. I thought it would pass.
At the same time the more I think about itthe rain beating furiouslythe angrier I get. This is my life: the whole big, sprawling mess of my life in all its possibilitiesfirst kisses and last kisses and college and apartments and marriage and fights and apologies and happinessbrought to a point, a second, an edge of a second, razored off in that final moment by Juliets last act: her revenge against us, against me. The farther I get from the party, the more I think, No. It cant happen this way. No matter what we did, it cant happen this way.
Then the driveway opens up suddenly, and Route 9 is there, shining ahead of me like a river, liquid silver lit up by pools of light. I dont even realize Ive been holding my breath until I exhale and Im gasping, grateful for the light.
I wipe the rain out of my eyes and turn left, scanning the edge of the woods for Juliet. A little part of me is hoping that talking to me did make her feel bettermaybe she went home, after all, maybe it meant something. At the same time, the way that she spoke in that low, flat voice comes back to me, and I know that wherever she was in that bathroom, it wasnt with me. She was lost somewhere, trapped in a fog, maybe of memories, maybe of all the things that could have happened differently.
A car roars behind me, making me jump. On the landing I lose my footing and go on hands and knees to the ice as the car speeds by, followed closely by a second car, its engine as loud as thunder. Then honking, waves of sound rolling toward me, getting louder and louder. I look up and see the headlights of a car bearing down on me. I try to move and cant. I try to scream and cant. Im frozen, the headlights growing as big as moons, floating there. At the last second the car swerves a little, passing so close to me I can feel the heat of the engine and smell the exhaust and hear a line of music pumping from the radio. Light it, blaze it, tear it up. Then its gone, still honking, passing away into the night as the bass from the speakers grows dimmer and dimmer, a distant pulse.
My palms are cut up from the pavement, and my heart is pounding so quickly Im pretty sure its going to leap out of my chest. Slowly, shaking, I stand up. Another car passes on the other side of the road, this one at a crawl, water from its tires pinwheeling in both directions.
And then, fifty feet ahead of me, I see a figure in white emerge from the woods, unfolding from a crouch like a long, pale flower. Juliet. I start going toward her, slowly now, trying to avoid the slick patches of dark ice. She stands there, perfectly still, like she doesnt even feel the rain. At a certain point she even lifts up her arms, parallel to the ground, as though preparing to take a dive off the high board. Theres something beautiful and terrifying about seeing her in that position. It reminds me of when I was little and we would go to church on Christmas and Easter, and I was always afraid to look at the pulpit, where there was a wooden statue of Jesus mounted on the cross.
Juliet!
She doesnt respond; Im not sure if she doesnt hear or is just ignoring me. Im fifteen feet away, then ten. Theres a low rumbling behind me. I turn and see a big truck bearing down through the darkness. Again I have a random thoughthe should totally have his license suspended, hes going way too fastand when I turn around again I see that Juliet is staring up the road, tensed, arms at her thighs, and she reminds me of something, but it takes me a second to realize what it is, just like it takes me a second to realize whats going onshe looks like a dog about to go after a birdand then everything clicks together, and as she begins to move, a white blur, Im moving too, running as fast as I can and closing the distance between us as shes sprinting out across the nearest lane. The truck blasts its horn, a sound so large it seems to fill the air with vibration, and then I slam into her with all my weight, and we roll, tumbling, backward into the woods. Im screaming and shes screaming and pain blooms in my shoulder. I roll over onto my back, the black branches overhead a thick net.
What are you doing? Juliets yelling, and when I sit up her face has finally lost its composure and is twisted with anger. What the hell are you doing?
What am I doing? My anger flares up too. What are you doing? Jumping in front of random trucksI thought the whole point was to wait for Lindsay
Lindsay? Lindsay Edgecombe? Juliets anger drops away and she looks completely confused. She brings her hands up to her head, squeezing. I dont know what youre talking about.
Im suddenly uncertain. II thought. You know, like this was your big revenge
Juliet laughs, but theres no humor in it. Revenge? She shakes her head, and again that veil seems to drop over her face. Sorry, Sam. For once this isnt about you. She stands up, not bothering to wipe off the thick tracks of mud and leaves that are clinging to her. Now please leave me alone.
My head is spinning and Im having trouble focusing on her, like were separated by miles instead of a few feet. The rain is coming down harder now, jagged pellets of it. Little snatches of things are whirling around in my head: Lindsay patting the hood of the Tank proudly, saying, I could go head-to-head with an eighteen-wheeler and never feel it the owner of Dunkin Donuts calling out, Thats not a car, its a truck the randomness of things, the way everything can change in a second; the right place at the right time, or at the wrong time; time; that enormous truck coming at us, its big metal grill shining like teeth, the impression of lights and hugeness. The only thing you can see: headlights, size, a sense of power. Not revenge. Chance. Stupid, dumb, blind chance. Just a part of the strange mechanism of the world, with its fits and coughs and starts and random collisions.
But why? I struggle to my feet. Why did you come here? What was the point?
She doesnt look at me, but she shrugs slightly. There was no point, really. I just wanted to say it. I was always afraid to say it beforewhat I really thought of you. Im not afraid anymore. Of you, of anybody, of anything. Im not even afraid of She breaks off, but I know what she was going to say. Not even afraid of dying.
