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Dang it, there I was going again. Spiraling down the rabbit hole of obsession.
“You know,” Rachel murmured, flipping another page. “You could use this for a spread on the Most Likely Tos.”
I peeked my head up. “What do you mean?”
“Like, take a picture of everyone who’s on the list this year and upload it to Babble with their label. The webpage for the Most Likely To list this year sucked bad, but if you uploaded a prettier post of your own, it’d be memorable. People would be talking about it.”
Yeah, because the thought of having my picture plastered on Babble with Never Have Their First Kissunderneath was exactly what I wanted. However, from a blogger’s perspective, it annoyingly wasn’t a bad idea.
“You know, it’s weird that so many in the Top Tier are on the Most Likely Tos,” Rachel said as she scrolled through the list. “Landon, Madison, Nate—that’s not normal. Especially Landon and Madison. The quarterback and co-captain of the cheer squad on the MLTs?”
I glanced over at the yearbook to find Madison Oliphant’s photo, the co-captain of the cheer squad. Her bright pink-lipped smile stared back at us. Her hair was expertly coiled, the perfect picture of popularity. And yet, she’d gotten a label of her own this year. “That isweird,” I agreed. “Populars are never on it.”
“Times are a-changing.”
Before I had a chance to respond, someone from the other side of Rachel’s closed door banged against the wood, startling the both of us. Being on the edge of the bed meant that when Rachel jumped, she ended up knocking into me, and my lack of balance sent me careening onto the floor with a considerablethump.
Rachel’s voice rose a decibel. “Jeez,Reed!”
The door cracked open, and a face poked between the jamb, one instantly recognizable. The signature amused grin, too, was familiar, one that he and Rachel shared. “I’m home,” her twin said cheerfully, finding me on the floor. “What are you doing, Paparazzi?”
Yeah,ha. Witty nickname there. Reed had assigned it to me since the dawn of Babble— “Paparazzi” since I took photos and posted them. “Checking for dust bunnies,” I muttered, rubbing my elbow where pain had lanced up my funny bone.
“You didn’t have to knock on the door so hard. I’m surprised you didn’t put a hole in it.”
“I’d be the one fixing it,” Reed replied dully, and then receded into the hall. That was Reed—as little interaction as possible with this sister and her dweeb friend suited him best.
But before he had a chance to fully close the door, Rachel called after him. “Hey, hey! Where were you so late? Were you really at Connor’s, or were you at Kelsey’s?”
I swatted at her thigh, whispering, “I thought he was talking to Jamie from sixth period?”
“No, that was last week.”
Reed opened the door wide enough to scowl at us, letting more of Rachel’s bedroom light out into the hallway. It reflected in the gold strands of his hair, making it look even lighter. “Nosy much? Do you really want to know or do you want to post it on Ava’s blog?”
“As if her blog would care about your love life,” Rachel piped back. “You might be in the Top Tier, but you’ll be old news soon since you quit the football team.”
“Why don’t you two worry about your own love lives?” Reed suddenly gave a theatrical, mocking gasp. “Oh. Wait.”
Rachel wasted no time in launching a pillow from her bed at her door, but he’d slammed it shut at the last second. “You want a brother?” she asked me. “I’m selling mine. I’m getting a hamster instead. They might smell the same, but at least the hamster won’t leave his underwear in the middle of the bathroom floor.”
“Tempting,” I snorted, crawling to where the pillow had fallen and swiping it up. “But I’m going to have to pass. I think he would drive me insane within the first day.”
“Likewise, Paparazzi!” he called back through the wall, voice a bit too clear for my liking.
“Quit eavesdropping!” Rachel banged against the wall and then slumped against her headboard. “I should’ve consumed him in the womb.”
I laid back down beside her, picking the yearbook up, tracing my finger along the laminated pages. “Missed opportunity.”
Ilaid on Rachel’s hard floor with my eyes open, unable to close them for more than three seconds. The air conditioning kicked on and rattled the vents, and there must’ve been a screw loose from how loud the noise was. And then, when the air-con kicked off, the quiet wastooquiet. Rachel’s nasally inhales, the scrape of her duvet as she shifted every five minutes—it was all enough to keep me wide-awake.
The air conditioner turned on again, wheezing out cold air, rattling that dang screw.
As quietly as I could, I pulled back the blankets from my makeshift bed, getting to my feet. My ninja-like stealth was pointless, though—Rachel could’ve slept through a bomb dropping. Her gaped mouth and heavy exhales hinted how deep into dreamland she was.
I tugged on the hem of my pajama shorts as the cold air brushed across my bare legs and squeezed out into the hall.
Rachel’s house was a layout that I knew like it was my own from years of spending time within the walls, so even though the hallways were dark, I knew exactly where to step to avoid end tables and bookshelves. I knew exactly when to take each step down her stairs, when to turn the corner into the kitchen. I also knew which cupboard had the cups, and I pulled one down to fill it with tap water.
