She blinks. “That’s the same thing.”
I shake my head. “A promise is one-sided. An agreement is not. We’re now each held accountable.”
The right side of her lips tick up in a small smirk aimed directly at me.
“Come on,” I sigh, breaking the moment. “They’re gonna be at it for hours. Let’s go skip stones at our rock.”
“It's my rock,” she argues.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, Squirrel, and I do not see said rock in yours.”
She narrows her eyes. “How are we friends?”
“I wore you down with my wit and charm.”
I’m not lying. She was one tough nut to crack. But she needed a friend at the same time I did. It was a match made in perfect timing.
“I’ve decided I don’t like you.”
“Don’t let your nose grow, Pinocchio. You love me.”
She no longer argues that reality. She told me once she could never love anyone, that it was too painful. She’d never say it, but I’m the only person Henley Wright loves, and I plan to make sure she does it her whole life.
I slide out of her bedroom window, then turn to watch her do the same.
“Race you!” she yells as she takes off, her long legs moving like a gazelle.
I count to ten before giving chase. Without seeing her face, I know her eyes are closed, her hair wrapping around her face as she creates her own wind. She’s in her element, and she’s at peace, which is why I slow my footing. I’d never let myself overtake her. This is her in her happy place—wild and free. My only charge in life is to nurture that, not hinder it.
Once she's settled on the rock, her chest heaves with her stuttered breaths. “Why do you let me win?”
“I don’t.”
She elbows me. “Now, who’s Pinocchio?”
Lying down with the smoothed rock at my back, I sigh. I can almost feel our carved-out names pressed against my skin. “How can I watch your back if I’m in front?”
She drops back softly, letting her head rest on my chest. “You don’t need to protect me against the world, Brooks.”
“Your parents suck at the job, so it can’t hurt to have someone looking out for you, Henley.”
She lets my words sink in, her body relaxing into mine in appreciation.
“I can’t help but think this all ends badly,” she whispers. “Mom and Dad. How can it not?”
I wish I could fix it for her. I wish I could force her parents to see what their animosity is doing to her. I wish I could make my best friend happy.
“Whatever damage they inflict, we’ll fix it. Together.”
HENLEY
Age 16
She didn’t even let me say goodbye.
6
BROOKS
I text her again, frowning at my cell screen and the last five messages that have been left unanswered. A feeling I don’t recognize settles in my stomach, sitting heavy with concern. Henley never ignores my calls or messages. Never.
The shrill ring of the school bell startles me, and I feel an uncharacteristic burst of rage at the sound.
Everything is off.
I hit call again, but it doesn’t even ring. Her voicemail greets me almost immediately, telling me not to leave a message.
“Henley, where are you? You told me to meet you here at eight. It’s nearly fucking nine.”
Twisting on my foot, I move into the school building, moving with purpose toward her locker.
“Addy!” I call out, jogging past Henley’s lonely locker toward her. “Have you seen Henley?”
“You’re asking me?”
She makes it obvious enough that she’s never quite forgiven me for stealing her best friend. Snide remarks, favors that she constantly collects on, a constant reminder that I owe her. Understandable, I’d be pissed if anyone tried to move in on my time with Henley.
“She’s late.”
“That’s weird,” she agrees.
Henley makes it her mission to leave her house as early as humanly possible. An act of self-preservation against the war zone of her home. She’s admitted more than once that sitting on her own in the relatively deserted school is preferable.
“Have you called her?”
I stare at Addy blankly. “Of course, I fucking called her. It goes straight to voicemail.”
“Check her class, Brooks.” She sighs in irritation. “She’ll be around. Maybe she’s sick?”
Irritated at her lack of help or concern, I growl in frustration as I move toward our first class.
The glaringly empty seat mocks me as I enter, and I glance at the teacher once before leaving immediately.
“Mr. Riley,” the old woman calls after me, but I charge through the hallway, ignoring the echo of my name down the empty space.
“Has Henley Wright called in sick today?” I ask by way of greeting when I step into the main office.
“Manners would get you further, Mr. Riley,” the school secretary reprimands.
“Sorry,” I say, sounding anything but. “We’re working on a report together today, and she hasn’t called to tell me I’ll have to pick up the slack.”
She eyes me over her glasses. It’s not hard to pick up that I’m lying through my ass. Henley and I have been inseparable from the first week I moved here. We’re a set, and everyone knows it.
I wait her out, unblinking, and she eventually sighs.
“No,” she answers testily. “She hasn’t called in sick. But her mother did send through an email early this morning informing the school that Henley would be taking a leave of absence.”
“What?” I breathe. “Show me the email.”
“Get back to class, Mr. Riley. I gave you the courtesy of giving you that information. I’m sure Henley will call you herself.”
“I’m not feeling well.” My lie is hardly convincing, an obvious statement made in panic. “Mark me absent.”
Without giving her the opportunity to respond, I leave her office, my phone already attached to my ear as I call my mom to come and get me.
“Brooks, you need to calm down.”
“How can I calm down?” I punch the dashboard of my mother’s SUV in anger. “Leave of absence? What does that even mean?” I beseech.
“Henley will explain—”
“Henley’s not answering her phone!” I yell, cutting off her
