“What, and leave poor Evie here all by herself?” Her voice was taunting, poking the dog. There was a ripple of laughter in it.
He turned to face her. “Don’t start trouble with Evie,” he said. It was as much a plea as a warning. “She’s got enough to worry about right now.”
Sunny closed her mouth and appraised him from behind her long lashes. He couldn’t tell from her expression what conclusion she’d drawn, but it probably wasn’t anything good. She pursed her pretty lips into a sneer, and the memory of her bare, hot skin sliding under his hands leaped up unbidden, her bones and breasts and tongue, memory of the almost.
Fuck Sunny, he thought, looking away. He took a gulp of his beer. He shoved his other hand in his pocket and made a fist. She just seeped in like nerve gas. Like sexy goddamn poison.
“I’m not the one getting Evie in trouble,” she said, her voice slow and low and clear, pushing the knife in and pulling it back out again.
She stood there for a second more, then walked off, arms still crossed over her bright-green bra. He stared after her. What TF did that mean?
E
Evie looked in the bathroom mirror. The light was awful. Way too bright, after the darkness of the yard. It picked out every flaw on her face, every blemish, every splotch of red. She’d thought she was going to puke when she got in here, but nothing had come up. Did you still even get morning sickness this far along? She dashed cold water over her cheeks and succumbed, finally, to the banging on the other side of the door.
“Took you long enough!” snapped a girl Evie didn’t know.
Evie brushed passed her, mumbling, “Sorry.” She went out to the picnic table and found the big bottle of cola. It was lukewarm now, but she was so thirsty she didn’t care. She unscrewed the cap and refilled her empty cup.
Evie turned, looking for Réal, but he wasn’t where she’d left him, and she didn’t recognize anyone who’d taken his place. Everyone seemed to be looking at her, smiling, but when she blinked again, they weren’t at all. They were just lumps of shadow in the dark, indistinguishable. She shook the strange image from her head and stepped through the crowd.
People seemed pretty drunk now. They bumped into her as she walked, and the ground was surprisingly uneven. “Hey!” a girl yelped as she passed, but Evie didn’t turn to see why.
She stopped at the thin edge of the firelight and looked at the crowd huddled near the flames. The heat was so intense. How could they sit so close to it? A sweat broke out along her scalp. She sipped again from her cup. Faces seemed to drift into focus, all staring at her, but just as quickly they slipped out again, leaving trails of smeary light behind.
She stepped back, heart racing. There was something wrong with them. People shouldn’t look like that—smeary. Someone laughed, and it fell to pieces, her brain unable to make its proper shape. She caught more strange eyes looking her way, half moon faces trapped in amber firelight, smiling, laughing in weird, jagged pieces…
A picture bloomed and flickered on the other side of the flames. Sea-blue eyes. White teeth grinning ear to ear. Blond hair hanging limp and bloody beside a perfect smile. Shaun’s voice echoed in her mind. Do you remember, Evie? it said. Do you know what happened to me?
She blinked down at the red cup and opened her hand. The cup slipped away, bouncing on the grass, sloshing black cola over her shoes. She stumbled backward, away from the fire. So stupid, she thought. Why did I drink from that cup? I didn’t even know that guy.
She turned and stumbled back through the crowd. People’s faces glowed blood red, toothy smiles crawling right up into their eyes. Laughter fell from jeering mouths. She fought through them and away, down the sloping lawn.
“Where are you going?” someone asked.
Evie turned, eyes struggling to make out a shape against the dark.
“Did you hear me? Why are you sneaking around down here?” The voice came closer, and then Evie could see her—black hair, black sweater, acid-green bra, with a crown of yellow bonfire.
Her heart snapped off at a gallop, remembering Sunny’s hand on her shoulder, yanking her up from the bathroom sink at the Olympia. The fear that Sunny might fight her. At least I waited till my boyfriend was dead.
“I’m sneaking around?” Evie said, swallowing. Pictures of Sunny on the hood of the Buick, pictures of a switchblade smile. “How long have you been sleeping with Réal?”
Sunny laughed, a bitter green sound. “Is that what he told you?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“He didn’t have to tell me.” Evie knew she shouldn’t, but the words wouldn’t stop, whatever was in that drink letting them all spill out. “Anyone could guess. I bet even Alex knows.”
“Oh, shut up, Evie,” Sunny said. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know you’re using them,” Evie said, mouth barely working around the words. “Seriously,” she slurred, “why don’t you just break up with Alex already? Or is Ré too low-class for a rich girl like you?”
Sunny was silent, letting the noise from the party roll down the hill and fill the space between them, filling Evie’s head with fizzy lights.
Then Sunny said, “You are an ice-cold bitch, Evie Hawley. Did anyone ever tell you that?” She turned and started walking away.
“At least I’m not crazy.”
Sunny stopped. “What did you say?”
Evie’s head swirled with pictures, words formed and fell apart—she wasn’t even sure what was happening anymore, if any of this was real. “I saw you,” she said, sticking a tack in the picture of Sunny at the medical center.
