“Going to that senior party tonight?” Tamlin asked as she pushed her food around on her plate. She never seemed to eat anymore. I remembered when we were young we would have these disgusting eating contests and now if anyone mentioned any food that wasn’t grilled chicken breast and salad, she made a face, taking out her phone and looking at caloric intake.
“Are you going to eat your food?” I asked, letting her know that I was watching. She gave me a look of disgust and shoved lettuce in her mouth. When that didn’t satisfy my death-defying stare, she followed up her previous bite with a piece of steak.
“Well, Madison and I are going,” Tamlin continued, her eyes on me as a mischievous smile planted itself not so coyly on her face. I hated how smug she looked. I hated that she had a right to be smug. As soon as she mentioned the little mouse's name, she had all of my attention and then some.
“You plan on lending her something to wear?” I asked, trying to cover up my sudden interest. I looked over at my parents, Monica’s face going from shock to indifference in seconds, while Edward was glued to his phone, like always. God forbid he didn’t increase his multi-billion dollar dynasty even for one minute. Maybe if they actually paid a little more attention, my life wouldn’t have turned into what it was.
“She’s really nice, Kyler. Lay off of her,” my sister said forcefully. “She’s trying really hard and it can’t be easy moving to a new town and not knowing anyone. Just be fucking nice for once in your miserable life.”
I mulled over Tammy’s words, then decided I didn’t give a rat’s ass about them, other than the fact that the little mouse was going to this party.
“Where’s the party?” I asked, causing my sister to pause and look at me with curiosity plastered all over her face. She didn’t answer right away, instead just smiled at me. Normally, I treated Tammy better than everyone else, but in that second she was irritating my last nerve. I didn’t know what was going on in her head but I was sure whatever it was, it wasn’t something that I’d find agreeable. I shot her a look that let her know that I wasn’t playing.
“Michael Jones’ kickass mansion.”
I knew the gated estate overlooking the lake and Black Mountain beyond. It dripped with old-money charm and I hated it. “I’ll be there.”
“Seriously?” Tamlin spat, almost choking on a piece of lettuce. Tamlin’s shock was warranted. I’d never been interested in going to a school party before. But then again, I’d never been intrigued by anyone like the little mouse either. It shocked me that she had agreed to go to the party. She didn’t look the type, but neither did I, and I’d partaken in many. The biggest shock of all was the fact that ever since the night at the pool, I hadn’t been able to think about anything but her.
Her warm gray eyes haunted me with defiant intrigue, her words shaking me to my very core. No one had done that before, at least not in a very long time. She made me feel uncomfortable, raw, and worst of all, she made me feel like I was out of control.
It was unfortunate for her that she was the first person that was able to make me feel anything in the last eight years.
“I’m always up for a house party, why not?” I tipped the ridiculous crystal water glass to my lips and took a sip. “I like the people-watching.” At my words, my mother finally looked up from her plate, finally looking present and interested. “Don’t worry, Monica, I don’t like the drugs as much as my mother does,” I spat, my eyes beaming directly in her direction.
I knew my comment wasn’t completely fair but it wasn’t a lie. I also regretted it as soon as I said it because technically my mother had been clean for six years. I should have had more forgiveness in my heart and all that shit, but my heart was as black as night. Monica may be as nice as everyone thought she was, but she was also completely void of contributing anything of real substance. She was too busy burying her head, maybe too scared of facing off against my father and rocking her very comfortable boat. My mother was a good person, everyone liked her and respected her, but she was far from the perfect mother.
“Kyler. Get bent!” Tamlin yelled from across the large table. “You really need to sort your shit, you can’t just keep being so hurtful to people.” The truth of her words cut like jagged glass.
“Well, I’ll see you at the party.” I stood, needing to get away from the table as quickly as I could. Seeing my mother watch me with those vacant, sad eyes was haunting. For a time she was there, but when I needed her most, she wasn’t. I still had a hard time getting beyond it.
I probably never would.
9
“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
Madison
“You look great, stop fidgeting.” Tamlin watched me with an amused smile on her face. It was the tenth time I was smoothing my hair and touching the loose beach waves she’d crimped. When Tamlin finished with my makeover, I was speechless, staring in the mirror, stunned at the massive transformation. I was so used to walking around in ponytails, jeans and t-shirts, now I was in fitted black
