I watch Zack win another round of cornhole and move on to his next opponent with a hoot of victory. He whispers something into the ear of Sierra Umbridge, and I almost roll my eyes.
Zack wasted no time finding a girl to entertain him tonight. He also wasted no time meeting my high school English teacher, the town mayor, and the guy who drives the fireworks in from Phoenix every year—who goes by “Buck,” apparently. Buck owns twenty-eight guns, a tabby cat named Priscilla, and has tentative plans to visit Miami next summer.
Sometimes I think Zack’s goal in life is to meet every person on the planet.
“You want a beer, man?” Sam asks.
I shake my head and nod at the can of soda in my hand. “I’m driving.”
“You sure? If you don’t like this kind, I think Richards has a different case in his car.”
“Nah, I’m good. Really,” I add when Sam looks unsure.
He finally shrugs and walks off to finish his own beer.
I can’t figure out why the hell everyone is being so chatty with me tonight. You’d think they hadn’t seen me in years, rather than months. Davis is retelling football stories from high school, all my great highlights; Richards has been asking me retarded questions about my job; and Sam has been offering me food and beer all night.
What the hell is going on?
Richards, who is plastered as always, keeps glancing over at me in between dirty jokes and glory stories, and I figure if anyone will break down, it’ll be him. I walk up beside him and stand there for a minute, waiting until the silence between us gets too awkward for him to ignore.
“Hey,” he says, taking a gulp of beer.
“Hey.”
“So… I know I never said this before,” he begins. “I’m a real jackass, I know, but… I’m sorry, man. About Charity.”
I nod, dumbfounded. “Uh, thanks. That’s… random.”
He shrugs. “Well, I saw Sarah’s scar today—”
“Holy shit! You saw it too?” Sam butts in, drunk. “It was wicked. Shame too. She’s got this kick-ass little body, and then bam, there’s a gnarly gash cutting right between her tits.”
My heart drops to the dirt.
“You guys talking about Sarah?” Davis leans in and shakes his head. “I couldn’t believe it.”
“Me neither,” some guy I’ve never seen before says.
I clutch my soda so tight the can starts to crinkle. “When did you guys see all this?”
“Today, man,” Sam says. “She was prancing around in that pink bikini, all proud. Just putting her marred skin on display and looking people in the eye and shit.” He shudders. “Unsettling as hell.”
I struggle to keep a straight face as I look around at my uncomfortable friends. Is that why everyone has been bat-shit crazy around me tonight? Because Pixie marched Charity’s memory around the lake today?
I almost laugh out loud. I could kiss her for that—for being brave and obstinate and proud. She’s amazing. I wish I could have seen that—
My stomach falls, joining my heart in the sand, as I realize why I didn’t see that. Pixie was acting weird earlier today because she was hiding her scar from me.
She was hiding her scar. From me.
I throw my soda away.
I’m halfway across the beach before I realize I’m headed to Pixie. My fists are clenched, and the sour feeling in my gut is sloshing with every step I take.
I find her standing with a group of her high school friends. Not smiling, but participating as the pink straps of her swimsuit peek out from the dress thingy she’s thrown on.
Her eyes catch sight of me as I near, and she watches me like she knows I’m coming for her.
“We need to talk,” I say when I’m within earshot, a low tremor in my voice.
She pulls out of the group and steps to the side as I trudge away from the fires and music and drunk people. I see her shadow following after me as I move into the darkness by the cliffs, just as the first of the opening fireworks spark to life in the sky. Cheers and clapping echo behind us as we travel deeper into the shadows.
When we reach a secluded place, I turn to her, and for a moment we just stare at each other. More fireworks shoot into the sky, lighting up her face as she waits.
I’m suddenly scared stupid to talk about this.
“Let me see it,” I say, my voice coming out a bit unsteady.
She crosses her arms over her chest and doesn’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about. “No.”
I blink, not quite sure how to respond to that. “So what, then? You’re just going to hide it from me for the rest of your life?”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to strip down for you right here so you can see just how torn up my skin is.”
“But you’ll let the whole town see?”
“Would you rather I hole up like an ashamed hermit?”
“No! Of course not. That’s not—” I purse my lips. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just… I just don’t want you to hide your scar because you’re trying to shield me from reality. I don’t need you to protect me.”
Her eyes narrow. “You can’t even handle seeing me in a towel.”
“That’s my problem, Pixie. Not yours.”
“Like hell!” She uncrosses her arms. “How is that not my problem? You looked like you were going to throw up the other day—and that was after seeing only the tip of the scar.”
“That’s because I’d never seen it before.”
“Well, maybe if you’d bothered to come visit me in the hospital while I was fighting for my life, you could have checked out all the gore firsthand and wouldn’t feel so left out right now.” Her eyes widen a bit, like maybe she didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s too late.
Her words sink into me like iron stakes, driving deep and wedging anger and regret between my lungs. I take a step forward. “I didn’t come visit you in the hospital because I’d almost killed you. I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“Well, that wasn’t your call to make.”
“I was trying to be respectful.”
She juts her jaw. “Is that why you abandoned me too? Out of respect?”
“Abandoned you? What are you talking about?”
“You left me, Levi. Charity died and you just disappeared, like I was nothing more than an accessory to your past. I lost Charity, and then I lost YOU. Did you ever stop to think about how alone I was back here in reality while you were off at frat parties and throwing footballs?”
Fireworks pop in the sky, orange and blue flashes filtering down on her cheeks as I stand, wordless.
She shrugs angrily. “Did you ever think for one minute that I might have needed someone to be here for me to mourn with? Or were you too busy thinking about your own pain? Because I lost her too, you know. I lost Charity and your parents and your home—just like you—but I didn’t get to run away. I had to stay in this godforsaken town and listen to people pretend Charity never existed while I healed enough to get out of this place and start college. You didn’t think about me or look back, and that hurt, Levi. It hurt so much and…” Her features twist in pain, and she shakes her head. “You know what? Forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” With a wave of her hand, she spins on her heel and walks away from me as more colors fall from the sky.
My mouth and my feet are stuck to the earth.
She’s totally right. I left her.
God.
I left her.
Just like my parents left me. But what I did was worse because Pixie was blameless. I was so caught up in my own personal hell that I put distance between us without even a thought as to how she might feel about me disappearing from her life. She was in that hospital, hurt and sad, and I just fucking LEFT.
“Pix!” I shout. “Wait—wait.” I follow after her, but she has a head start and maneuvers quickly through the shadows of the rocks. Every few seconds or so, she’s lit up by the overhead fireworks, but then her form is plunged back into d
arkness once the holiday sparkles fade away until she’s completely gone. Blending into the crowds of people on the beach. Hidden in the shadows of laughter and music and noise. Gone.
Then the sky breaks.
39
Pixie
Pouring rain doesn’t make for a great fireworks show, but it sure as hell makes for a happy group of drunk people.
Some of them are even swimming in the lake. Morons.
I can’t believe I just snapped at Levi like that, but a part of me feels a little lighter because of it. I didn’t realize how truly angry I was with him until just now. And I’m pissed. And hurt. But mostly pissed.
Desperate to get away, far away, from Levi and all the rage and brokenness inside me, but not in the mood to get drenched or, you know, struck by lightning, I look around for shelter.
“Sarah!” Daren’s voice calls from where our friends are still gathered by the bonfire. “Where did you go? You missed the fireworks!”
I don’t know how he thinks I could have possibly “missed” the giant pyrotechnics show in the sky thirty seconds ago. Clearly, he’s not sober. But his voice reminds me that his car is parked nearby, so that’s where I head, careful to ignore his distant pleas for me to return to all the fireworks/lightning/rainstorm fun.
I let myself into the passenger side of his car and shut the door so rain isn’t pouring on me. Then I get out my phone to text Ellen to come pick me up.
Before I can press Send, Daren jumps into the driver’s seat with a giant smile on his face.
“Sarah!” He cheers. “I caught up with you!”
Yay.
“Whatcha doing in my car?”
“Temporary shelter,” I say. “I think I’m going to head home. I’m tired.”
“No!” His protest is very dramatic, and I know he’s wasted. “Stay with me a little while longer.”
I shake my head. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”
“Nope. You’re staying with me.” He smiles and closes his door, shutting himself inside with me.
The smell of liquor invades my nostrils, and now I’m annoyed. “I’m just not feeling it tonight, Daren. Sorry.”
He ignores me and starts to ramble. “It’s weird being here, right? I mean, last year I was here. And you were here. And so was Charity. We were all here. And now you and I are here again. But not Charity.” He stares out the windshield. “It’s weird being here.”
I exhale, feeling his pain. “Yeah. Charity being gone is tough, but it’ll… it’ll get easier. It has to.”
Right?
He nods.
I bite my lip, wanting to leave so I can be pissed at Levi in private. “So… I’m pretty spent. I think I’m just going to take off—”
“Old Man Turner died yesterday,” he says quietly, his glazed brown eyes still staring out the window.
I suck in a short breath.
Well, that explains all the excessive drinking and sadness rolling off Daren in waves. For a moment, I have no words as I watch Daren’s profile. I know Mr. Turner was like a father to him. Or at least like an uncle.
“Daren, I… I’m so sorry.” I press my lips together.
He blinks a few times and then turns to me with another forced smile. “No worries. I barely knew the guy.” His bloodshot eyes brighten. “You know what we need to do? Party. Yes.” He nods to himself. “We need to go party.” He pulls his car keys from the pocket of his board shorts, puts them in the ignition, and starts the engine.
My palms start to sweat. “What are you doing?”
The panic in my voice is evident and, yeah, maybe I’m a bit of a drama queen when it comes to the whole drunk-driving thing, but seriously?
“Calm down.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “We’re not going far. Just to Shannon’s house.”
Shannon… Shannon… Who’s Shannon?
“I don’t want to go to Shannon’s house,” I say and try to open the passenger door. Stupid childproof locks. “Let me out.”
“Why? We’re not there yet, silly.” He’s still smiling, and I realize he’s drunker than I thought. Drunk Daren—even super-drunk Daren—would never lock me in a car with him when he was drinking. He knows my story. Hell, he was in it.
But this isn’t run-of-the-mill-drunk Daren. This is mega-drunk Daren, and now I’m freaking out.
I play with the door handle again. “Open the damn door, Daren.”
He rolls down the driver’s side window and calls out to a group of people who are leaving the lake. “Sarah and I will meet you guys at Shannon’s, okay?”
“No, we won’t!” I yell out his window as droplets of rain splash into the car. Then I look at Daren. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you drive drunk. If we’re going anywhere, I’m driving.”
I shift out of my seat and try to take the keys from the ignition.
He covers them with his hand like this is some giant joke. “Um, I don’t think so? Do you know what kind of car this is? A Porsche. Which means it needs to be driven by a professional. And besides, we both know you can’t drive a stick.” He laughs. “At least not this kind of stick. Calm down,” he says as I swat at his freakishly strong grip on the keys. “I got this.”
“No. You got drunk.” My heart starts to pound. “Let me drive.”
“No.”
“Then let me out right now.”
He starts fumbling with the gears until we’re in reverse.
Oh God.
“Ellen is going to pick me up. Let me out!” With Daren’s window rolled down, people can hear me yelling and some of them are staring now.
He backs the car up. “Tell Ellen you’ll be at Shannon’s.” He puts the car in drive and slowly pulls forward.
“No! Stop the car.” The pounding in my chest grows violent. “Stop the car!”
The car stops, but not because of my protests.
Levi is in front of us and has just thrown his hands on the hood, making an outrageously loud sound echo through the car.
“What the hell?” Daren puts the car in park and leans his head out the window. “Levi?” He smiles drunkenly. “I didn’t know you were here. Are you going to Shannon’s too?”
Levi looks pissed as he comes around to Daren’s window. He glances at me, then at Daren. “Why was Pixie just asking you to stop the car?”
He waves it off. “Ah, you know. She wants to drive the Porsche.” He rolls his eyes. “Girls always want to drive the Porsche.”
Levi leans back from his breath. “You’re drunk.”
“I am?” He laughs and slurs out, “Are you sure? Because sometimes my laid-back nature comes across as a lack of sobriety, but I assure you—assure you?” He laughs again. “That sounds funny in my mouth. Assure you. Assure—”
“Let Pixie out of the car.”
He points a wobbly finger at Levi and squints. “No, man. She’s not yours.”
“Well, she sure as hell isn’t yours.”
“I’m not anybody’s! God!” I say, angry and scared and just over the whole stupid thing. “Just let me out of the car, Daren.”
He turns to me. “Quit bitching, Sarah.”
And then Daren’s not in the car anymore.
Levi has him by the neck and has just dragged him out of the window and around the car.
Holy hell. Things are about to get real.
Daren’s body makes a hollow sound as Levi throws him against the hood and pins his throat.
Frozen in the passenger seat, I’m just staring through the rain-dotted windshield, while everyone in the parking lot waits for the whole Batman scene to unfold.
Daren tries to pry Levi’s hand from his throat, but Levi holds tight, his body rigid and giant. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Levi next to any guy who wasn’t a football player that I forgot just how big he is. Daren doesn’t stand a chance.
“Three things, asshole,” Levi says casually, like yanking a guy out of a car window is an everyday occurrence for him. “One.” He looks at Daren calm
ly. “Don’t drink and drive. That’s fucking retarded.”
Daren’s gasping.
“Two.” Levi stretches his neck. “When a girl says no—to anything—that means no.”
Daren smacks at Levi’s strong arm.
“And three.” Levi leans down and puts his face frighteningly close to Daren’s and lowers his voice. “Pixie’s. Not. Yours. And if I ever hear you speak to her like that again, I will yank the tongue out of your throat.”
With one last shove, Levi releases Daren and straightens his shoulders.
Daren starts coughing and hacking.
I’m speechless.
Without looking at me, Levi opens the driver’s door and waits. I scramble across the console and climb out, fully aware that everyone in the parking area is staring at us.
I’m still angry with him, but I follow him through the drizzle anyway. Because this is Levi. This is my hero. And you always follow your heroes, even when you’re mad, even when you’d rather punch them in the mouth. That’s how trust works. It’s blind and unconditional and it takes you places you can’t reach by yourself.
Just like love.
My heart squeezes and I drop my eyes to the wet pavement as we walk along. We don’t stay a word to each other as we cross the remainder of the parking lot and get in his truck.
I buckle my seat belt and stare at the dashboard.
“Where’s your friend Jenna?” he asks, putting on his own seat belt.
“She left already.” I clear my throat. “Where’s Zack?”
“He went home with Sierra Umbridge.”
I nod, and that’s the end of our conversation. He starts the engine and we pull away from the lake.
* * *
Rain beats down on the windshield, pattering in a peaceful way interrupted only by the rhythmic swiping of the wiper blades as we drive along.
Why does rain always look so sad but sound so peaceful?
I prop a foot up on his dashboard like I used to do when life was still good, and my paint-stained shoe reminds me of the first time I ever rode in this truck.
Levi picked me and Charity up from school, and we felt like rock stars, climbing into her big bro’s big truck. He was so proud of getting his license. So sure of himself and happy. It’s a beautiful thing, Levi happy.