Donnie pulls my other arm, trying to get me out of here.
“You and Sean?”
“That’s right,” she says. “Just ask him all about it.”
“Amanda,” someone says.
I stare dumbly, watching Amanda turn her head. It’s Bry Jacobson. The infamous pool party guy.
“Bry!” Amanda squeals, brushes past me, knocking me into the bar, and jumps into Bry’s arms. “I’m so glad you rescued me.”
“Yeah, no one does the Sweep anymore. Everyone’s jailbait here.”
I feel Donnie’s hand tighten as she drags me through the crowd. People stare, their faces full of hate.
Donnie turns to me just before we get outside. “How are you going to possibly end it, B? You know these younger girls. You know they want to be part of it. They don’t understand until afterward how bad it is. You cut your head off as the ringleader and someone else will sprout up in your place. You know this.”
“There are ways,” I say.
Dev is in the parking lot when we walk out. Surprising all of us.
“What are you doing here?” I say.
His eyes look bloodshot and puffy. Like he’s been crying. His usual spark, his usual cheery face, all of it gone.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
Donnie, Cate, and Suki tell me they’re going to meet me at the car. No one wants to get in the middle of this.
His face is turned inside out. “I’m so messed up in the head, B. I’m so messed up right now.”
“You broke up with me, Dev. You think you’re the messed up one?”
“Why did you have to start this shit between you and Nessel, huh, B?”
“Wait—I . . . I didn’t start anything.”
“You started it by fighting with him and tearing everything we had apart. And then the two of you? I thought we were like this.” He curls up his three fingers. “And now—I can’t even go out with my best friend because I don’t know who he is. I don’t have a girlfriend. Somehow I’m the only innocent person here, and I lost both of you. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to eat. I can’t sleep. My head feels like it’s going to explode. Like I’m going to die. I’m totally alone.”
I get closer to him, and I can smell the sadness. His despair. It reeks through him. I just want to touch him. Hold him. But he keeps backing away from me.
“And you know what—it all trails back to you, B. Connect the dots, and it all goes right to you.” He’s pointing at me, angry and mean, and underneath, I can see it. He’s so hurt. Wounded. “How could you do this to me, B? How could you?”
“That day at your house. You told me it was over. You haven’t answered any of my texts. My calls. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to reach out to you. To make it up to you.” I touch his face. His scruffy face. “I didn’t want this, Dev. I still don’t want this. I need you. Do you understand how I need you?”
I feel sick to my stomach. I have to press my hand against the car to hold myself up. I bend down to the ground. Maybe I’ll puke. Maybe it’ll all come up and wash out of me.
People are staring. Some girl chants “fight, fight, fight” under her breath as she walks past with her phone out, recording the whole thing. Everything’s so different now. All of us, like prey. Dev opens the door and gets in his Jeep but then stops. He turns around, searching for something in the parking lot, but nothing is there. There’s just an empty, wanton feeling of dismay and sadness. Garbage piles. Old cars. Gum stuck to the ripped-up gravel.
“What am I to you?” he says. His foot out of the Jeep. One limb that I think he’s giving to me. And I reach for his thigh. Rest my hand on it. Stroke his knee.
“You’re the most supportive person I’ve ever met,” I say.
“So I’m your safety blanket? That’s what I am?”
“Dev—”
“Did something happen between you and Nessel?”
And I realize in this moment that whatever I say isn’t going to change anything between me and Dev. He’ll always wonder if something happened between me and Sean. But it wasn’t just a kiss. It was the connection, however brief, that makes me more guilty. I have to tell him. I have to say it. I can’t blame Sean. I can’t blame Ali. I can’t blame anyone but myself.
I nod my head.
“I’m a bad person, Dev. I’m rotten to the core. An awful person.”
“You weren’t always this way.”
“Yes, I was. You just didn’t see that part of me.”
“I saw other things. I saw beautiful things.”
The tears explode in his eyes. I reach for him, but he retracts, like I’m an illness.
He pounds his fist on the wheel. Turns the ignition in his Jeep, backs into reverse, and peels away. And just like that he’s gone.
50
ALI
I’m back in the hammock again. The glow of the pink neon sign from the motel across the way lights up the street. I haven’t wanted to look at my phone. Fearful of more retribution. Or I don’t know what.
But I turn it on. I have forty-six new DMs. They file into my phone with a fury. Also, a text from Terrance that says: I SENT YOU AN EMAIL; READ IT.
Hey, Ali! How’s Truth or Consequences? Is it like Truth or Dare? (My lame attempt at a joke.) Get ready to sit down. Your article went viral on Twitter. Shared over 9,000 times. The Underground is going to become a real paper. Like an online paper. With more articles than just three. Maybe comments too. (I don’t know if I want everyone’s opinions, but whatever. That’s why I’m the editor! I get to shut the comments off when I want.)
There are a lot of people talking, Ali. I heard
