Just Don't Mention It

  “Eden,” I hear Rachael say, her pitch high and her tone teasing, “you and Jake should go for a walk or something. Off you go, lovebirds.”

  What the fuck? My eyes flash up from the floor and I look at Eden for the first time. Tiffani is drawing patterns on my neck with her finger, but I can’t even focus on that right now, because all I can do is stare at Eden. She looks uncomfortable with all of the attention suddenly on her, and I’m wondering what Rachael is even talking about. Has Eden still been seeing Jake? I don’t think so. He said himself that he hasn’t seen her in a while.

  Jake gets to his feet and shoves his hands into his pockets, waiting for her. “Eden?”

  And to my complete disbelief, she actually gets up. She doesn’t quite look at me as she does, and as she walks around the table to meet Jake, she mumbles, “We won’t be long.”

  I stare after the two of them as they walk away, disappearing out of sight down an escalator. My teeth are grinding so hard together that my jaw aches, and now Tiffani is biting at my earlobe, her hand on my chest.

  “Okay, no offense,” Rachael says loudly, wrinkling her nose at us, “but please stop.”

  Tiffani laughs, then finally presses her lips to mine. This time, I do kiss her back.

  * * *

  That night, I can’t sleep. It’s nothing new to me. Often there are nights where my mind is in such an overdrive that I just can’t relax enough to get any sleep. I lie awake for hours, listening to the soft purring of the air conditioning throughout the house, staring up at my ceiling through the darkness of my room. I can’t stop thinking about Tiffani, about Mom, about Jamie, but mostly I’m thinking about Eden. By 3AM, I’ve had enough. I have been tossing and turning for too long, so I throw back my comforter and leave my bed.

  Slowly, I creep out of my room and into the hall, and as silently as ever, I open Eden’s bedroom door a few inches. I peer through the darkness, but I can’t see anything, so I open the door fully and step into her room. As my eyes adjust, I close the door again behind me and whisper, “Are you awake?”

  I can see Eden coming into focus, wrapped up in bed, facing her wall. She doesn’t stir, so I figure that she’s asleep, but then suddenly I hear her murmur, “Yeah. What time is it?” Her tone is the huskiest I have ever heard it, and there is no chance that I will ever sleep now after hearing that.

  “Three,” I tell her, my voice still low. Carefully, I move across her room, reaching for her comforter and crawling into her bed. “Can I sleep with you?” I ask. Her bed is warm and I’m sure she is warmer, but I keep several inches between our bodies. “I mean, not like hook up with you, just fall asleep, you know, like, rest.”

  “I know what you meant,” Eden says. It sounds like she is smiling. I don’t exactly think straight when I’m tired.

  I stare at her ceiling now for a while, basking in the warmth and breathing deeply. I can hear her breathing too, and I finally muster up the courage to roll over toward her, gently pressing my body against hers. I bury my face into the back of her shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut. She is so warm, so comforting.

  “I’m sorry about Tiffani,” I whisper as I wind my fingers into her hair, holding her close to me. I wish she would turn around. I wish I could see the glisten of her eyes.

  “You should be,” she mumbles.

  “Just let me figure it out,” I say. I am begging her to give me a chance, to give me the time to think about all of my options when it comes to handling the situation that we’re in. I want the result to be her, but I don’t quite know how to do that yet. “I’m trying to figure everything out.”

  “Like what?”

  “Eden, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty fucked up,” I say. I pull away from her, rolling over to face her door, burying my head into the pillows on her bed. I feel her shift too, finally rolling away from the wall and turning toward me now instead.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she murmurs. She presses her hand to my shoulder blade and traces a pattern on my skin. I think she is touching my tattoo. “More like lost.”

  “Lost?” I echo. I’m a mess and my life is in ruins, but am I really lost?

  “Yeah. I think you’re lost,” she says. She is still half asleep, her voice still low and raspy.

  “What makes you think that?”

  She runs her finger all the way down my spine, sending shivers throughout my body, and she moves closer, her body against my bare back. She presses her face into my shoulder and throws her arm over me, getting comfortable. “Because you have no idea what you’re doing or where you’re going,” she whispers.

  I am silent for a long time. She’s right. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t know where I’m going, so maybe I am lost. I stare at her door, feeling her heart beating slowly against my back, and I reach for her hand and intertwine our fingers. “Eden?” I whisper, but she is already asleep again.

  51

  FIVE YEARS EARLIER

  I walk for what feels like forever, but is really only twenty minutes. I trudge along, a backpack slung over my shoulders and only seventeen dollars to my name. I snuck into Mom and Dad’s bedroom and stole all the loose change I could find in the pockets of Dad’s jeans. It’s enough to catch a bus out of Santa Monica. I don’t know where to yet, but I won’t be picky.

  I need to get to the promenade first. I know there are buses that leave from downtown, but it’s miles away, and the sun is slowly beginning to set. There is no turning back now, though. I’ve already snuck out of the house, so if I do return home, I’ll be in a lot more trouble than I already am.

  I keep on walking, my pace slowing, kicking at the sidewalk and keeping my head down. I zip up my hoodie. Now that it’s almost December, the weather is changing. The temperature has been dropping. It’s not cold, but I’m missing the hot summer sun, even though the cool breeze on my face is offering some relief to my injuries. I stole a packet of painkillers from the bathroom too.

  I’m somewhere over in the next neighborhood, somewhere in Wilshire, and I think Jake lives here. I’ll know his house if I see it, so I speed up my pace again, my head swiveling back and forth as I scan all of the houses around me. Maybe his parents will let me crash at their place for the night. I even pass my school, but it feels weird when the campus is so empty, so I keep on walking straight on by it in search of somewhere more welcoming to stop.

  But I don’t find Jake’s house, nor do I get any closer to catching a bus out of here. At the very least, I am thirty minutes away from home, from Dad, and that’s good enough for me. I sigh deeply and come to a stop by a huge oak tree with roots that have begun to crack open the concrete of the sidewalk. I throw my backpack down onto the grass and then plonk myself down too. I lean back against the tree, my legs hugged to my chest, watching the passing traffic.

  Maybe this is stupid. Maybe I should go home. But I’m too scared to do that, so I muster up some courage and stay put. I pull out some painkillers and a bottle of water from my backpack, then take two of them. Even just sitting here, still and unmoving, everything hurts. So I close my eyes, listening to the cars, feeling the breeze on my skin, my breathing slow and deep. Until I hear a car roll to a stop in front of me.

  My eyes flicker open and there is a police car parked up by the sidewalk, its engine still running. My breathing quickens as the window rolls down.

  “Hey, buddy,” the officer says, propping his arm up onto the door. The smile he gives me is friendly but concerned. The same smile that Mr. Hayes and Dr. Coleman give me. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Hanging out,” I tell him bluntly. He’s going to arrest me for being a delinquent. And then I’m going to be in even more trouble. And then I will need to run away for sure next time.

  “Uh-huh,” the officer says slowly, as though he doesn’t believe me. He shouldn’t. “Which house do you live in?”

  “I don’t live in this neighborhood,” I admit. Quickly, I zip up my backpack and sling it over one shoulder, pre
pared to leg it down the street if I need to. I stay down on the grass for now, though, praying that he will just leave me alone.

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Hanging out,” I say again. I’m running away from my abusive father.

  The officer remains silent for a minute, but I can see the curiosity in his features as he studies my face. “What happened?”

  “I got in a fight at school,” I say, shrugging. Even pull my hood up over my head to shadow the bruises. “I’m suspended.”

  “That’s not good. You shouldn’t fight,” he says with a frown. He shuts off his engine and gets out of the car, taking a few steps toward me. He is tall and he towers over me, casting a shadow from the sunset. “What’s your name?”

  “Tyler,” I tell him. I shift a little, getting into a better position for making a quick getaway. Should I have lied? I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem that scary. He doesn’t look like he wants to arrest me. At least not yet.

  “Alright, Tyler, I’m Officer Gonzalez,” he says. To my surprise, he sits down on the grass next to me, a safe distance of several feet between us, and he reaches over and offers his hand out to me. “Nice to meet you.”

  I stare at his hand for a second, and then at the small, sincere smile he’s wearing, and I decide then that he’s nice and doesn’t seem like he will arrest me. So I shake his hand.

  “So,” Officer Gonzalez says, pressing his palms down flat against the grass and leaning back a little, “do you want to let me know the real reason why you’re out here? It’ll be dark soon.” He glances up at the sky, then back down to me. “You can tell me. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  Maybe. I don’t know. He’s not giving me trouble or anything, so that’s good, I guess. Right now, I could do with having someone to turn to, and a nice cop seems like just the right kind of person. That’s why I trust him enough to admit, “I’m running away.”

  “Now why would you want to run away?” he asks, cocking his head to one side. He narrows his brown eyes at me, analyzing my expression. I try to keep my features as blank as I can, showing no emotion whatsoever so that he can’t possibly read them.

  “My parents were mad at me for the fight at school,” I say. I slide my backpack off my shoulder again and set it back down on the grass, because I definitely don’t plan on running from Officer Gonzalez now.

  “Hmm. I’d be disappointed too if my son was fighting,” Officer Gonzalez says. He speaks in a gentle, quiet voice. One that is making me feel a tiny bit better. “But I’d also be extremely worried if he were to run away. Don’t you think we should get you home?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble. My home isn’t safe anymore. It hasn’t been for four years. I’m more likely to end up hurt at home than I am out on here on the street, so I think I would rather take my chances.

  “You can ride up front in the car with me,” Officer Gonzalez says, his smile widening into a grin as he raises an eyebrow at me. He nods to his patrol car, then holds out his hand to me again. “What do you say?”

  I glance at the car, then my backpack that barely holds any clothes or money, then back at Officer Gonzalez and his warm, friendly grin. I like him, and besides, it’ll be dark soon, and I don’t really want to meet the kind of people who roam the streets after dark. So, I shake his hand once again.

  52

  PRESENT DAY

  On Saturday night, I am taking it easy at Dean’s place. After what happened at the beach party last year, I am determined to stay in control of all of my senses this time. That’s why I’ve been sipping the same can of beer for almost an hour while everyone else is chugging drinks and making fools out of themselves. It’s weird being the sober one for once. Is this how they feel whenever they watch me drink too fast? Because damn, it’s embarrassing to witness.

  Dean has only invited a handful of his friends over. Jake and Meghan are here. Tiffani too, of course. Jackson and TJ from the football team are here, shotgunning beers at the same speed I was last weekend. The only other two people who should be here but aren’t yet are Rachael and Eden. I keep glancing at the front door, waiting for them to turn up, but they are clearly running late. Rachael always takes forever to get ready, so it isn’t surprising, just annoying.

  We’re all in the kitchen and I’m leaning back against the countertop, minding my own business and observing everyone else when suddenly Dean throws himself in front of me. The beach party is the only party he ever really lets go for, and he’s already drunk. He grins wide at me as a bead of sweat trickles down his forehead. “You’re behaving. I like that,” he says. He taps his can of beer against mine and then walks away, and I stare blankly after him. Dean gets weird sometimes.

  I heave a sigh and straighten up, heading over to Tiffani as she pours herself a drink by the center island. I lean over her shoulder and move my lips to her ear. “I’m going outside for a smoke,” I tell her over the sound of the music.

  “I’ll come with you,” she says, spinning around with a smile on her face. She presses the freshly poured drink to her lips and knocks it back, closing her eyes as she drinks it all at once. When she’s done, she slams the plastic cup down onto the countertop and crushes it beneath her hand. What the hell is wrong with everyone tonight? Is there something new in the air that I’m not quite picking up on?

  Frowning, I take Tiffani’s hand and we slip outside into Dean’s backyard. The early evening sun is still beating down and it’s so bright that I wish I had sunglasses. I lean back against the wall of the house and pull out my lighter and pack of cigarettes. I don’t smoke cigarettes all that often, but tonight, I am using them as my distraction since I am staying clear of getting drunk and getting high. I place a cigarette between my lips and light it up, inhaling. The smoke burns my lungs.

  “You know,” Tiffani says as she rakes her hands down my chest, “you’re actually really hot when you’re sober.”

  “Yeah?” I say, and I exhale a plume of smoke straight into her face in an effort to get her away from me, but she doesn’t budge. It was so much easier to put up with her when I didn’t like another girl, and now it feels like the benefits of being with Tiffani just aren’t worth it anymore.

  “Well, maybe not when you do that,” she says, wrinkling her nose. When the smoke clears, she moves closer to me, linking her arms around my neck. She looks up at me. “Thank you for being careful tonight. I just don’t want you to embarrass me again.”

  She thinks I’m doing this for her? She thinks I’m being responsible for once so that I don’t embarrass her? No. I’m doing this for me, for my own damn health so that I don’t nearly kill myself again. I’m doing the right thing for once, and for myself, no one else.

  I smoke in silence for a few minutes while she buries her face into my chest, and our attention is grabbed when we hear the door open and close. We both look over, and honestly, I don’t expect to see Eden looking back at us. She must have just arrived. She hovers by the door, her posture radiating confidence, and if Tiffani wasn’t here right now, I would be all over her. Her dark, thick hair is straight for once and her eyes are heavily defined, her lashes thick. She’s matched a skirt with a pair of Converse. She looks amazing.

  “Can you go back inside?” Tiffani immediately snaps at her. She has a nasty streak when she drinks too much, and she’s about to take it out on Eden. “And, like, give us some space?”

  “Back off,” I order, and Tiffani cranes her neck to glower at me. Normally, I wouldn’t ever stand up against her, but I refuse to let her speak to Eden like that.

  Luckily, though, Eden completely ignores her. Instead, she nods to the cigarette in my hand, concern crossing her features. “What are you doing?”

  “Relax,” I say with a small smile as I place the cigarette back between my lips. “It’s just a cigarette.”

  Her expression hardens and she presses her glossy, pink lips into a bold line. “That’s all you’re gonna smoke tonight, right? Just cigarettes?”

>   I inhale another drag of the cigarette as I stare at her. If Tiffani wasn’t here, I would talk to her about this. I would be myself with her. But Tiffani is here, so I have to stick to being Tyler Bruce, despite how much I hate him. “Go back inside if you’re just gonna interrogate me, sis,” I say. I narrow my eyes at her for a fraction of a second, praying that she realizes this is all just an act, and then I look away from her and back to Tiffani, pretending I don’t care. Tiffani laughs.

  “We’re about to play shot roulette,” Eden states, ignoring me, acting normal. Good, I think. That’s what we need to do. “So if you wanna join in, then you should probably come inside.”

  “I’m totally game!” Tiffani says, her attitude switching in a heartbeat. Now, she is suddenly beaming wide and skips over to join Eden, as though they are best friends. Even Eden pulls a face at the sudden change.

  “Are you joining us?” Eden asks me, cocking her head to one side as she watches me take a couple more sips of my beer. I’ve been holding it for so long that it’s warm now. And gross.

  “Obviously,” I say sharply, rolling my eyes. I hate using this tone with her, but it’s my Tyler Bruce voice. Tiffani, drunk or sober, would most definitely pick up on it if I spoke to Eden differently than the way I speak to everyone else.

  She shakes her head at me, and then both she and Tiffani disappear back inside. Shot fucking roulette? They’re all going to end up wasted in there. I stay outside for a few more minutes, finishing off my smoke and pouring the remainder of my beer into a nearby plant pot, then I finally head inside to join everyone else.

  They are all circling the center island where the roulette wheel is set up, cheering each other on, and I awkwardly hang back a little behind Tiffani. I don’t really want to get involved, but I have a feeling I’ll be asked to take at least one turn. I look at Eden across the kitchen. She is between Dean and Rachael, and Dean has his arm around her shoulders and is yelling something into her ear over the music while Rachael is murmuring something into her other. Suddenly, Rachael grabs her wrist and pulls her away from us all. The two of them disappear into the living room and then out of sight, and I almost charge after them. Rachael can be a bad influence and I don’t trust her with Eden, but if I grow too protective that would be suspicious, so I reluctantly force myself to stay put in the kitchen.