When she woke, the sun was bright and hot, her skin slick with sweat. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Last night’s clothes were flung across the floor, filthy and wrecked. When she saw them, the whole strange night came laughing back. She groaned, stomach fluttering.
She crawled out of bed and went to the window, pulling the lace curtain aside. The window always stuck, thick layers of paint expanding in the heat. She banged it with the heel of her hand and rattled it open to let in cooler air. Across the street, the empty field stretched off into sunshine, the smell of dirt rising with the dew.
Her mouth filled with saliva.
She barely made it to the wastebasket. There wasn’t even much trying to get out—only those two cans of beer—but it was enough. She stared at the watery mess, saliva hanging from her lips. God. When will this stop? She crossed the short hallway to the attic bathroom and emptied the basket into the toilet, holding back another rotten, half empty heave.
Evie showered and went downstairs. Her mother would have gotten home just after dawn, crawling into bed long before Evie woke.
Evie padded quietly around the kitchen, used to the soft rhythm of the clock, the sleeping silence of the house. When her cell phone buzzed against the breakfast table, she nearly jumped out of her skin.
It was Sunny. How was the lake?
Evie stared at the text for a long time before answering, her thumb hovering over the screen. She could tell Sunny everything. Wasn’t that what friends did? She could tell her about getting drunk and skinny-dipping and kissing Ré. She could tell her about the car, the gas. About wanting to die.
Fine, she answered back.
Ooh la la, Sunny replied. Pepé Le Pew said it sucked.
Evie’s chest tightened. Had he already talked to Sunny? Had he told her all about how awful the whole thing was? She almost burst into tears on the spot.
She hesitated again before typing the next message.
Did you tell Sunny about last night?
There was no reply. She took the phone out to the front porch and set it next to her on the steps. She sipped her tea. She waited. The tea went cold.
When the phone did buzz again, she grabbed for it. Taking the puppy for doggy treats. Should we come get you?
Evie worried her thumbnail between her teeth. If Sunny knew anything about last night, she wasn’t saying yet. Sure, Evie typed back.
She stood and went back into the house, dumping her cold tea in the sink. In the living room, she threw herself down on the sofa. She traced the fuzzy red pile with her fingers, watching patterns form under the weight of her hand, catching the light, brighter and darker. She traced a looping letter E, with a little accent aigu on top.
Then she scrubbed it out roughly with her palm. Pills of dust and sofa fuzz rolled up under her hand, and then one long bright-yellow hair caught the sun. She stretched it out between her fingers. It was perfect gold, like thread from a fairy tale.
It had been almost two weeks since they’d found Shaun’s body. She pictured him lying here, legs thrown over the armrest, blond hair spilling across her lap. His blue eyes staring up at her, and that perfect smile, where his bottom lip touched his teeth.
She wound the golden thread around her fingers and tucked it into her pocket just as Sunny pulled into the drive.
8
E
“Sup, Evie.” Alex nodded from the front seat of Sunny’s dad’s sedan.
Evie moved to get in the back seat, but Sunny punched Alex hard on the shoulder. “Get in the back!” she shouted.
“Ow!” Alex shot back, rubbing his arm. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Boys in the back, girls up front,” she said.
“Since when?”
“Since now. Get in the back.”
Sunny turned her face from his, discussion over, and he gave her a childish sneer but opened the door anyway. He wore a stretched-out black T-shirt that made him look paler than usual, and his hair fell in his face as he shuffled past Evie. “All yours,” he grumbled.
Evie slid into the front seat. “I don’t mind the back.”
“I don’t care,” Sunny said. “I want you next to me.”
Alex slammed the back door, and they pulled out of the drive.
“Are we going to the Olympia?” Evie asked.
“Where else is there?” Sunny shot back, laughing. She seemed anxious. Or, at least, more electric than normal. She sat too far forward in the driver’s seat and tapped the steering wheel, energy barely contained.
Her fingers and arms were decked as always in silver rings and black leather bracelets. Dark-red triangles adorned her nails, making them look like bloody claws.
“You did your hair different,” Evie said.
Sunny ran a jeweled talon over it lightly. “I’m trying a thing,” she said. “Does it look stupid?”
Normally Sunny wore blunt-cut bangs that hung down into her kohl-black eyes like a mask, but she’d pinned it all back today, and the ends were slick with gel. It looked like a New Wave pompadour. “I saw it in Italian Vogue,” she said.
“It doesn’t look stupid,” Evie told her. “Just…different.”
“I’m thinking about dyeing it purple. Like, mauve, actually. Lavender.”
“That would look really cool,” Evie said.
“Yeah?” Sunny’s hand went to her head again.
“Totally,” Evie said, nodding.
“Cool. Maybe I’ll do it. So the lake sucked, huh?”
Evie pricked awake. “What? No! It was fine.”
“Yeah, that’s what your text said. Fine. But what does fine mean?”
Evie blinked at her. “It means okay. It was fun.”
Sunny glanced at her sideways. “Really? ’Cause that’s not what Ré said.”
“Oh.” Evie’s heart began to race, remembering it all. “I guess maybe it was a little weird, not having you two there. And then I didn’t feel well, so we left.”
“Huh,” Sunny said. “And what was Ré like? Was he flirty?” She
