The Illusion of Annabella

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, unsettlingly offended by his look.

  “I wasn’t looking at you. Not the whole time anyway.” He squints against the fading sunlight as he crosses the strip of grass to the fence. “I was actually heading over to invite your family to dinner. My mom’s cooking a roast, and despite her crazy fetish with doll costumes and rhinestones, she’s actually a really great cook.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he casts a glance at Miller’s truck.

  “You can knock on the door and ask my brother and sisters, but I already have plans.” I practically jump out of my skin when Miller honks the horn.

  “Hurry up and get in!” Miller shouts out the window, clearly in a pissy mood over something. “I have to pick up Big Jay before we head to the party!”

  I shoot a dirty look at Luca when he elevates his brows and mouths, wow. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say, mostly because the look makes me feel ashamed that I’m going with Miller.

  “I already told you, I’m not looking at you like anything.” He glances at Miller’s truck. “Him, on the other hand . . .”

  Trying to shove Luca’s judgment aside, I turn to the truck, but I’m super aware of him studying me intently, as if he’s trying to unscrew a bolt to my thoughts. “I thought we were going to the movies?” I ask Miller.

  “Change of plans,” he snaps as he smashes his phone to his ear. “Now get in the truck.”

  “Who the hell is that guy?” Luca mutters. “He seems like an asshole.”

  “He’s not like this all the time. He’s just in a . . . bad mood.” I am only being half truthful. Normally Miller isn’t rude unless he’s strung out or one of his friends has done something to piss him off. “Stop judging me, okay?”

  “I’m not judging you. I’m judging him.” But the judgment in Luca’s eyes suggests otherwise.

  I no longer feel ashamed that I’m going with Miller, but I am ashamed of who I am now—of who I’ve chosen to become. What would Mom and Dad think of me if they saw me now?

  But who else am I supposed to be?

  I jostle the thought from my mind, letting the pills take over. “I have to go,” I say to Luca. “I’ll see you later, maybe.” Bracing my hand on the hood of the truck, I reach for the passenger door.

  “Wait a sec.” Luca bounds over the fence and fishes a pen from his shirt pocket. His warm fingers fold around my wrist, and my stomach flutters stupidly, something it hasn’t done for months.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, jerking back in a panic.

  He scribbles something on my palm before I can pull my hand away. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” He casts a distrustful glance at Miller who’s yelling at someone on the phone. “Like if you need a ride or something.”

  I run my thumb along the ink on my palm. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  “Because I’m a nice guy, something you’re clearly not used to.” He gives another pressing glance in Miller’s direction.

  Again, I feel ashamed, but let the pill smother out the feeling like rain does to fire.

  “So, you tried to carry my book and wrote your phone number on my hand. You are seriously old school, aren’t you?” I say. “Let me guess. This number is to your home phone.”

  “Ha, ha,” he replies sarcastically, then flashes me a grin that causes my heart to beat like crazy. “No, it’s my cell, you goof.”

  I don’t like how he’s making me feel inside, like I’m . . . Anna. Not Mysterious Annabella. Not Freaky Gimp Girl. Just plain, ordinary, sometimes good Anna who gets butterflies in her stomach.

  “Thanks, but I promise I’m not going to need anything.” Before he can say anything else, I haul my ass into the truck.

  “I don’t fucking care what’s going on,” Miller growls into the phone as he thrusts the shifter into reverse. “It’s not my problem. It’s your problem. That’s what you get paid for.”

  Luca eyeballs the truck as Miller backs down the driveway and part of me wants to bail out of the truck, keep talking to him, feel what it’s like to be that girl again. Instead, I stay put and Luca turns for my front door as Miller drives toward the intersection at the end of the block. We make a right, and just like that, Luca and my need to be that old, silly girl vanishes out of sight.

  I concentrate on the road while Miller continues to yammer on the phone, driving toward the highway on the opposite side of town. I wonder where we’re going, but don’t ask because it doesn’t really matter, as long as I get to escape my house and my thoughts.

  As we near the site of the accident, I rest my forehead against the cool glass. Sunlight glistens across my face as I close my eyes and silently count to twenty. When I open my eyelids again, we’re smack dab in the middle of the road where the semi sideswiped my parents’ car. A mile marker is still bent from the crash and tiny metallic fragments still speckle in the grass on the side of the road.

  The faint echo of metal crunching fills my head . . . The slam of the impact . . . The scream . . . The deafening silence . . .

  He chucks his phone onto the dashboard, jolting me from the memory. “So, this fucking sucks.”

  I tear my eyes away from the window. “What does?”

  He fiddles with his eyebrow ring, hooking the tip of his pinkie through it. “The home owners are probably going to press charges.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “That was my lawyer on the phone. I mean, it’s not official or anything, but he said there’s a good chance they’re going to.”

  “You have a lawyer?”

  “Don’t you?”

  I prop my clunky boots onto the dash, shrugging, being intentionally evasive, because Miller doesn’t need to know any more about me than he already does—it’s not what he’s for. I do have a lawyer, though. Jane’s a friend of the family and knows way more about me than she should.

  “Well, you should, especially if you’re going to be hanging out with me a lot.” He shoots me an artful grin. “I have a bad habit of getting nice girls into trouble.”

  My lip curls in annoyance as I remember how he abandoned me at that house. “I’m not a nice girl, Miller.” Which might be the most truthful thing I’ve said. I used to be, but now I’m just the girl who stresses out her brother, makes her sweet sister cry, and who ignores her younger brother. Alexis is the only one I'm not a bitch to, but that’s because she doesn’t care enough to even try to talk to me anymore.

  “Yeah, you kinda are.” He continues to grin smugly, and it probably irks me more than it should. He sighs. “Look, I know why you’re really upset. I get it. I was kind of an ass for bailing on you like that.” He splays his fingers across my thigh and strokes my knee, and like always, I feel nothing from his touch, no shivers, no sparks.

  It sends that familiar numbing feeling through my body, which is why I’m here, right? Usually, I can answer myself with an easy yes, but today I pause, remembering how I briefly contemplated going back to the house.

  “But I’m already on probation, and I just . . . I don’t know, I panicked,” Miller continues on, withdrawing his hand and tugging his fingers through his blue hair. “If the owners do press charges, I’m in deep shit. I might even get jail time.”

  I want to feel bad for him, but he brought it on himself. Just like I brought all of this on myself. If I would’ve been stronger and opened my mouth when my dad got in the car that day then maybe it would’ve put an end to the trip. Then we would’ve never been on the highway, never been in the accident, and Loki wouldn’t have had to give up his college life to become both a mom and dad to the four of us. Zhara would be really happy instead of trying to fake it all the time. Alexis would be the silly, caring person who loved art and making other people smile. Nikoli would say more than three sentences to me in an entire week. And me, I’d be that dancer who would probably have a huge crush on the sweet, cute guy next door who didn’t honk his horn and yell at me to get into the car.

  God,
the what ifs. Just thinking about them is too overwhelming.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you,” Miller rambles, his voice conveying a drop of bitterness. “You’re not on probation, and I’m guessing those rich parents of yours will help out.”

  “Rich parents . . . What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. And I’m kinda pissed you never told me you were rich. I would’ve had us steal shit from your house.”

  “I’m not rich,” I argue. “Not even close.”

  “Could’ve fooled me with that fancy fucking house you live in,” he says snidely. “It’s ridiculous you’ve been living like that the whole time, and we’ve had to hang out at the dump I live in.”

  “I don’t live in that nice of a house.”

  “Whatever. Keep fucking lying to me.”

  Not knowing what else to say except for the truth, I seal my lips and refuse to say anything else.

  “Who was that guy you were with when I pulled up?” The gears grind as he downshifts.

  I scrape at my nail polish. “Just a neighbor.”

  His gaze cuts to me. “You sure about that?”

  I feel like banging my head against the window. This is a new side of Miller, and I don’t like it at all. I want the numbness back instead of this icky, frustrated feeling festering inside me.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I say quietly.

  “Whatever.” He slips on his sunglasses. “I know we aren’t like a super close couple or anything, but I’ve always been really honest with you. You know how shitty my parents are, and you know how messed up my past is. I’ve been really open with you, more than I have with anyone. I thought we were on the same page, but clearly we’re not. Which really sucks, because I like you. I just hate being lied to.”

  I want to argue that I’m not a liar, but I’d only be defending a lie with a lie. Everything Miller said is right, except for him implying that something is going on with Luca and me. What’s shocking, though, is how upset he is.

  “You said you liked that I was mysterious,” I remind him. “And now you’re saying you don’t. It’s confusing.”

  “There’s a difference between being mysterious and being a liar,” he snaps, a vein in his neck bulging.

  I think he might be strung out, which puts me on edge. I’ve seen him like this a couple of times before, and he can get really angry, but typically he takes it out on Big Jay or another one of his buddies. Not me.

  He parks in front of a tiny cabin located in the middle of nowhere. Broken vehicles cover the yard and there’s an outhouse in the back. Just diagonal from the property is the junkyard, but I can’t see a house, business, or person sight, except for the roof of the antique shop just up over the hill.

  “Look, I’m sorry I’m being a jerk. I’m just a little hungover, okay?” Miller hops out of the truck and glances back at me with his bloodshot eyes. “You coming in?”

  I shake my head, and he kicks the door shut, cursing.

  I try to figure out what to do, where to go, but the answer leads me to a thousand paths I’m not sure I’m ready to take.

  I stay in the truck as the sun sets behind the hills and the sky shifts from a bright orange pink to a dusky grey. The moon and stars wake up. Around seven, someone starts texting me, but I ignore each one, not ready to face what’s in them.

  The effects of the pill I took earlier slowly fade away with each passing hour. Around eight or so, a tall, gangly guy wanders out of the house. The guy is at least Loki’s age, if not older, but looks way rougher around the edges. He’s on the thin side with overly long hair and yellow teeth, and for the first time in a while, I grow uneasy.

  Standing under the porch light, he pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights up. His eyes lock on the truck as he exhales a cloud of smoke, and I don’t like how nervous his look makes me or how aware I am that no one else is around.

  I try to force the numbness into my body, pretend I don’t give a shit, but out here, all alone, almost fully sober, my uneasiness shifts to full-on panic. I push the lock on the door then scoot toward the driver’s side as the guy hops off the steps and heads in the direction of the truck. He beats me to the door, jerks it open, and the interior light clicks on.

  “Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?” he asks with a smirk.

  I inch toward the passenger side. “Nothing. Just waiting for Miller.”

  His wolfish grin broadens. “Hate to break it to ya, but Miller ain’t comin’ out for a while.” He glances at the house then his eyes lock on me again. “Why don’t ya come inside and find him.”

  I stick my hand into my pocket to get my phone. “No, thanks. I’m good where I am.”

  His eyes scroll over me from head to toe, then he nods at the cabin. “It’s not really a question. I was just being polite. You’re makin’ people nervous, and you need to come inside.” A look of warning flashes across his face. “Come on. I don’t bite.”

  “Fine.” I plant my feet on the ground and stumble out into the dirt.

  Grinning, the guy bumps the door shut, and he remains way too close to me as we head to the front door.

  The first thing I notice inside the cabin is the stench, like musk and mold mixed with too many people crammed into in too small of a room. Music is booming and people are dancing, drinking, and smoking. I’ve been to parties before, but this one is more intense. Everyone looks older than me and seems comfortable with all the drugs and drinking.

  “There’s your boy right there.” The guy points to Miller who’s sitting on a bright orange couch, smoking and chatting with a girl.

  She’s wearing a short black dress and boots, has a red streak in her strawberry blonde hair, and multiple facial piercings. Her style is similar to mine, but I have a feeling we’re not even close to being the same. Her look screams notice me while mine begs hide me.

  Miller spots me through the crowd, and his expression lights up. Clearly, he isn’t as pissed off as he was earlier, and I’m betting the dazed look in his eyes has something to do with that.

  He staggers to his feet and stumbles past people, making his way to me. “Hey, I was just wondering where you were.”

  He hands me the cup he’s holding, and I chug half of it down, trying to burn away my uneasiness with alcohol.

  “In the car, where you left me.” When he juts out his lip in a pout, I sip the rest of the drink down to hide my eye roll. “Look, I just came in to see if you could give me a ride home. I just got a call from my parents, and they want me home.”

  He chuckles, rubbing his bloodshot eyes with his fists. “Yeah, there’s no way I’m leaving right now. After what happened last night, I need a break from reality.” He removes the cup from my hand, sets it down on the cracked linoleum, and then laces his fingers through mine. “You should stay. You look like you could use a break, too, and this place is awesome for that.”

  A break from my life is the reason I came with him tonight—is the sole reason I spend time with him at all. But he’s been getting on my nerves tonight, and my thoughts are all jumbled over whether or not I really want to be here.

  Miller hauls me toward a group of people dancing. “Come on, Anna, dance with me.” He roughly grinds his hips against mine while gripping my wrist and moving our linked arms above my head to spin me.

  I dig my heels into the carpet. “I don’t dance. Ever.”

  “Yeah, ya do,” he says, grinding against me again. “Remember that one time a couple of weeks ago when we were hanging out at Big Jay’s?”

  “That wasn’t me,” I holler over the music.

  “Yes, it was.” His head tips back, and he stares at the ceiling. “You were wearing that blue dress I love.”

  “I don’t wear dresses ever.” Partly because of the scars but mostly because I burned most of my dresses after the accident.

  Loki walked outside and caught me when I did it and about had a breakdown. “What are you doing?” He ran to get
the hose to put the fire out. “You can’t just burn your clothes.”

  “I already did.” I left the yard and went inside, convincing myself I felt better that all my old clothes were gone, and that I’d somehow managed to burn away the person I once was.

  But even the fire hadn’t been able to kill off the old me completely. Deep down, I still wanted to have the dresses back.

  “Oh, I must have been thinking of someone else, then.” Miller stares at me with a drunken grin on his face. “Guess we’ll just have to do it now.”

  He elevates my hand above my head and gives my arm a tug, attempting to spin me around.