Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

Rue and I crash through the front door. Not exactly the classy, natural way I envisioned us arriving, but considering the circumstances of tonight, classy and natural will have to wait.

The main entrance of the Evans house opens up to a spacious foyer with high ceilings, chandelier lighting, and a grand staircase. The living room is cozy and inviting, with a plush rug, comfortable-looking sofas, armchairs, and a fireplace. Sprinkled throughout the space are cobwebs, plastic skeletons, bats, and colorful pumpkins.

A few heads turn to look at us, due to our over-the-top entrance. House music blares from the speakers as I push past the thick crowds of costumed students from Fallbrook, half of whom I don’t even recognize from the drama club. So much for this party being exclusive to theater students. Apparently, I have nothing to worry about, coming uninvited. Half these people probably weren’t invited either.

To my immense relief, hardly anyone is on their phone. I expected Little Birdie’s blast to be the conversation point when I walked in. I clasp Rue’s hand as we squeeze through a group of freshmen, and relief washes over me when I spy Carlton, Meredith, and Mabel on the staircase a few feet away. Carlton’s face is painted green, and he’s wearing ripped clothing and a black wig with the hair going in several different directions. Mabel is in a blond wig and a white dress with a name tag on her chest that reads, “Hello, my name is Marilyn.” Her sister is wearing a gaudy pearl necklace, with her hair in a French twist and a matching name tag on her black dress that says, “Hello, my name is Audrey.”

As if by intuition, Carlton locks eyes with me from across the room. I smile faintly, but his expression seems to transform from neutral into a cold, permanent scowl.

Everything will be fine. You just need to tell the truth. The thought is what propels me toward him, it’s what allows me to ignore the warning bells that fire in my mind. Bells that say, do not approach him while he’s angry!

As Rue and I near the staircase, a gradual hush seems to fall across the room. It feels like a spotlight is suddenly being shined right on us. Unfortunately, this is the only kind of spotlight I’m used to—the kind that alerts others to my personal business and distributes the news as fast as a wildfire.

“What do you want, Dot?” It’s Carlton who speaks first. The remaining conversations echoing in the background fade into the booming music, and I resist the urge to look around to see if everyone is watching.

When I answer him, my voice comes out too quiet. “I need to talk to you.”

I cringe at how pathetic it sounds. My relationship with Carlton used to be fun. He was there to comfort me when Mom left. But now, it’s hard to remember what’s left between us now that the majority of our interactions consist of me apologizing to him. Explaining myself to him. Trying to talk him down from blowing up on me.

And I’m tired of it.

“Honestly, Dot,” he says. “I don’t care what you have to say.” The words cut through me, made worse by the dozens of eavesdroppers all around us. “You’ve been sneaking around behind my back since the school year began,” he continues. “All this time, you’ve been nothing but a liar.”

I’m at a loss for words, but I try anyway. “Carlton, I?—”

“What’s going on?” The voice cuts me off, and it’s one I didn’t realize I needed to hear until it slices through the room.

Zayne.

Zayne is here.

I scan the room, my eyes flitting over the silent party group huddled on the banisters and stuffed into corners until I find his face in the doorway to the kitchen. It makes me feel braver. Stronger.

“Sneaking around with him, no less,” Carlton seethes.

“You and I aren’t even together. You have no right to be mad.” My voice is firmer than any tone I’ve ever used with him. I’m done trying to be nice to him. For the first time since I met him, I no longer care about his approval, his attention. I don’t need him anymore.

I don’t want him anymore.

“And we never will be together,” he grounds out. “So why don’t you take your pathetic acting and go be a nobody in that sad little town again.”

My lips part. His words make my face feel like it’s on fire. Everyone stares at me as I storm past him, up the staircase. I can feel the weight of all the eyes on the back of my neck as if they’re made of stone. I search for an empty room, because I think I might cry. If I do, I want to be alone. It would be just my luck for someone to snap a picture of me. They would probably send it to Little Birdie. I can practically see the headline: Fledglings! Dot Bennett was spotted crying over Carlton Peters after he insulted her in front of a large crowd of party-goers!

Not that she would need to post anything at all. Half the school is already here at this party, witnessing it firsthand.

I knock on a door before opening it and find the room empty. Thank you, Lord. I sit on the bed. Glancing around, I realize this must be Mabel’s room. A mint blue comforter covers her large bed, and accents of what seems like her favorite color are apparent in her pillows, rug, laptop case, and the fluffy robe hanging on the back of her door. She has Polaroid photos and larger prints covering every available space on her walls. Photos of the beach, of sunsets, of herself, and some of her and Meredith as babies. It’s easy to see how they became baby models. In every photo, the pair of them are dressed in matching, one-of-a-kind pieces, smiling at the camera like naturals. They look adorable.

A knock on the door startles me. “Who is it?” I wipe away any non-existent tears, just in case.

The door opens, revealing Zayne. I belatedly register his black cape with a tall collar. The fake blood on the corner of his mouth. He’s dressed like a vampire.

“Dot.” He strides toward me and sits next to me on the bed. “What happened back there?” He searches my face. I’m not sure what he finds, but his frown seems to deepen.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess Carlton saw the post Little Birdie put out.” A pause. “You know. Of us at the pumpkin patch.”

“So what?” Zayne narrows his eyes. “What does that matter?”

“It doesn’t,” I say. “Not really.” But I’m lying. And he knows it. I can see it on his face. I can see the intensity in his searching glance, the tautness of his shoulders, like he’s afraid to breathe. I can see that he’s pretending to be oblivious, probably for my sake.

The scary part is how convincing it is. If I didn’t know Zayne better, I’d believe the act.

But I do know him.

So, I take his hand when he stands and offers to help me up. “Let’s go back out there,” he tells me. But it sounds more like a question.

I nod. “Let’s.”

We walk back to the staircase, where the groups of party guests have once again dispersed throughout the room. Carlton is still on the stairs, but he’s alone now. I have no idea where Mabel, Meredith, and Rue went.

“I see you two had fun together,” Carlton spits. “As usual.”

My face feels hot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Carlton doesn’t answer me, instead glaring at Zayne over my shoulder. “You can have her,” he says. “I was done with her anyway.”

He turns to walk away, but Zayne’s voice stops him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

“Why not?” Carlton spins around, eyes gleaming in challenge. “What are you going to do?”

“Try it again.” Zayne takes a step closer. His gaze is intense on Carlton as he clenches his jaw. “Find out. I dare you.”

“Guys, stop,” I say with my heart pounding, but they’re locked in.

They stare each other down. The moment seems to stretch out, every second leaving me tense. This shouldn’t be different from any of their other fights. They’ve been fighting for years. But now they’re fighting about me , and it makes my palms sweat.

“We aren’t together, Carlton,” I repeat, in case he needs the reminder. This is ridiculous. “We never have been.”

He looks at me, breaking away from his glaring contest with Zayne. “You’re right. We’re not together.” He reaches out to grab Meredith, who is coming up the stairs with Rue. His arm snakes around her waist, and he pulls her against him, despite the utter confusion on her face. “And we never have been. Which means I can do this .” And then he plants a long, sloppy kiss on Meredith’s lips.

Before I can even react, someone pushes past me to run up the stairs.

Rue.

My heart sinks as she disappears into one of the rooms.

“Oh, no,” I whisper. Never mind what Carlton is trying to do to me, getting revenge by kissing Meredith. He has no idea how much he’s just hurt Rue, whether she wants to admit it or not. She may not want it to be true, but a crush is a crush, and seeing the boy you like kiss someone else is never fun.

Meredith remains frozen in shock as Carlton releases her, blinking like there’s something stuck in her eye.

I frown at him. “Was that supposed to make me jealous? Because it didn’t work.” And it’s true. Other than making me mad at him for hurting Rue, watching him kiss Meredith makes me feel…nothing. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before I say what I came to admit to him. “I haven’t felt anything for you in a long time, Carlton.”

Something in his eyes changes without his face shifting. “Well, that just makes you stupid.”

Zayne snorts, reminding me he’s still standing beside me. “What are you? Five?” He crosses his arms. “And what are you dressed as anyway? A zombie?”

Carlton fumes. “I’m Frankenstein.”

Zayne laughs. “You mean Frankenstein’s monster. Frankenstein is the doctor.”

Carlton takes a step closer to Zayne. And then he pushes him, hard enough to hurl him backwards, into the railing of the stairs.

“Zayne!” I reach toward him. But he isn’t listening. He tackles Carlton to the ground, and they transform into a tangle of twisted, flying limbs. “Stop it!” I shriek. “Someone stop them!” I glance around, hoping someone is nearby to interfere. And then I spot Jude at the top of the stairs, holding up his phone. He’s recording this.

“Jude, do something.” I wave my hands at him.

He jumps when I use his name. I remember Mom telling me once that asking someone for help directly, by name, is always more effective than yelling aimlessly for anyone who can hear.

Jude looks around, mouth parted and eyes wide. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Try to stop them or something. You’re friends with Zayne, aren’t you?”

He stares after the wrestling forms in front of him, now being recorded by several others near us. The booming music in the house keeps the noise of Zayne and Carlton’s fight muffled, but they’re starting to attract attention regardless.

“Just forget it.” I shoulder past Jude and rush over to the pair of boys, now on the ground. Carlton is pinned beneath Zayne’s elbow, and I grab Zayne by his other arm and pull him to his feet. I yank his body in my direction to focus him. A stream of blood trickles from his nose. “Oh, no,” I say. I resist the urge to reach up and touch his face, because not only is it covered in blood, but it’s probably sore from being punched by Carlton.

Carlton stands up and dusts himself off. “Just wait till I press charges against you, Silverman.” He grimaces at me one last time before descending the stairs.

I turn to face the sea of phones filming us. “Enough, already.” I use my hands to shield my face. “Stop recording us. Just leave us alone.”

“Dot.” Zayne touches my shoulder. “Let’s just go.”

As we walk through the entryway to the front door, I can’t help but realize the ridiculousness of it all. It’s not like we’re celebrities. It shouldn’t matter what’s going on in our personal lives. Who likes who, who’s fighting or angry at someone else. But it does matter. Because Little Birdie says it does.

Beau’s words from earlier tonight echo in my mind. Try not to be a headline tonight.

I tried, Beau, I think with each defeated step I take to the car. I really did try.