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I walk into Luke’s packed house and start scanning the room for one of my friends, finding Morgan quickly, thanks to the pink wig she showed me at school. I don’t recognize the person she’s talking to as Audrey until it’s toolate.
“Hey,” I say.
“Oh my god…she actually came,” Audrey bemoans. “Great. I’ll have to warn Devon before he gets here.”
She makes sure to look me up and down, her face expressing her obvious disgust, before turning and marching off toward the front of the house.
“She’s lying. Devon isn’t coming here,” I scoff. “He doesn’t like Luke, and he doesn’t like Audrey. And she doesn’t like him either. She just likes that he’s notorious now or whatever. She doesn’t care about him.”
“You know, for someone who wasn’t involved with Devon, you sure seem to care a lot.”
I look at the only friend I have left—the only person who maybe really cares about me—and I almost tell her the truth before we’re interrupted.
“What’s up?” Trevor says, pulling off his ghost face mask. “It’s me.”
“Yeah…” Morgan says. “We know…”
“Right….okay. Well, get a beer, ladies. Luke has a keg in the kitchen. We’re playing beer pong in the loft. You ever play beer pong, Ally?”
“In another life,” I answer.
“That will work,” he says. “You’re my partner then. I’ll come find you when it’s our turn.”
I lose myself for the next hour—drinking, dancing, laughing with Morgan and a couple of other girls from the team. Theytalk about the county tournament and how they’ll probably lose without me.
No one mentions the reason I’m not on the team or what I did. They don’t ask me about Devon.
And I almost feel normal.
Then I think about the last time I was at a party like this—months ago with Devon when he loved me. I try not to scan the room for any sign of him or Audrey, but I can’t stop myself. I never spot him, and Audrey is on the couch hanging on some basketball player a year below us, so maybe she was lying about him coming here.
Or maybe she did warn him about me, and he decided not to come.
I realize that should be a relief; seeing him here with her would be gut-wrenching. Just thinking about it brings back that vice-grip feeling in my chest that I only ever barely get rid of.
But also, I want to see him. I want him to see me and tell me I look pretty. I want to catch his eye from across the room and try and hide my smile. I want him to text me that he loves me before he goes to sleep, and I want to hide under my covers and read it over and over.
But I know that won’t ever happen again. This version of Devon—the one I have to leave here—would do things differently if he could do it again, too, but not in the way I want.
“Hey,” Morgan says. “I’m going to go get another beer. Do you want one?”
No, I don’t. I should probably go, but not without saying goodbye. If this is the last time I’m going to see her, then I should do a little better.
“Actually, do you think we could go outside and talk for a minute?” I ask.
“Right now?” she asks. “Can it wait? Eagan just got here.”
“Well, I was actually just about to leave, so—”
“Oh, okay! I’ll see you on Monday, then!” she says. She sets her beer down on the counter and blows past me.
Right. I laugh just a little and shake my head. I don’t know what else I can expect, really. I’ve never been honest with her. She has no reason to think I’m anything other than what she sees at school: a little aloof and over-sheltered but otherwise just like her. She hasn’t seen me. She doesn’t know about the scars or the stealing or the box I hid under my bed. She doesn’t know about Devon or what Darci did before she died.
She doesn’t know that it might have been my fault that she left that night—that maybe I am at least a little bit responsible for what happened to her, just not in the way people thought I was before.
If I’m honest with myself, if she knew all of that, she never would have stuck by me like she did. She would never choose me over Audrey.
I pick up the cup she left on the counter, throw back its contents, and silently wish her well as I head for the front door.
