Page 29

The tempo changes, the beat transitioning from the up-tempo rhythm I recognize as the Two Door Cinema Club song Kyan and Declan haven’t stopped playing since the trip started, into something more mellow and less recognizable.

“I need to pee!” I announce before forcing my way through a mass of grinding bodies to the restroom. It’s empty, aside from one person examining her face in the mirror, swiping lip gloss over her perfect cupid’s bow lips.

Adrien.

The euphoria of the night seems to flood out of me at the sight of her, replaced by the anxiety from earlier. I need to end this before it gets out of hand. Before she does something to get even. Something I can’t come back from.

This is your last chance to start over , I remind myself.

“Adrien,” I say, a noticeable slur in my words, and she turns to me, one eyebrow raised. “We got off on the wrong foot. Let’s call it a truce, okay?”

She stares at me for a moment, her eyes blank. She seems sober, much more than I am.

“I don’t think so,” she says after a minute.

The room tilts, solids becoming less concrete, the world itself fuzzier and less tangible.

“Seriously?” I manage.

“You tried to drug me, Phoebe. That’s not something I’m quick to forget.”

“It was a joke,” I say, dragging out the last word. “Get over yourself.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I don’t need any more friends.

Especially someone like you.” She trails her eyes up and down the length of my body, contorts her lips in noticeable disgust. “Now, if you’ll move out of my way, I’d like to enjoy the rest of my night without dealing with your usual bullshit. ”

Anger washes over me, her words eradicating any thoughts of reconciliation. And I’m back in my childhood bedroom, his voice in my ear. You’re disgusting.

He’s in front of me, stepping forward, about to put his hands on me.

I’m the only one who will ever want you.

You should be grateful.

Poor Phoebe. No friends, too disgusting to ever love.

“Stop!” I reach my hands out and shove him, hard.

No, not him. Her. Adrien.

Her back strikes the water-stained mirror, which wobbles precariously against the wall.

“Oh.” The sound from my mouth is like a balloon deflating. “Adrien, I didn’t mean—”

She stares at me, dumbfounded. An expression I’ve never seen from her before. “You…you…”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t— I—”

Wordlessly, she pushes her way past me, her elbow striking me in the shoulder before she throws open the bathroom door.

I rest my hands on the sink and look into the mirror, frosted over with fingerprints.

My reflection—wild red eyes, stark cheekbones—swims in front of me.

Despite everything I’ve done the last few months before this trip—the new haircut, the weight loss, the upgraded wardrobe—to become the type of person I wanted to see in the mirror, all I see is the girl I was. The overweight, self-conscious outcast.

I can never escape her.

I don’t know how long I stand there. Minutes, hours? Long enough for a revolving door of girls to push past me, shove me aside to fix their makeup, stare at me as if I’m crazy.

I barely notice them. I’m stuck in my memories. Of everything I did.

Everything I ruined.

And suddenly, it’s all too much. I need to get out of here. I need air. I push out of the bathroom and elbow my way back across the dance floor, through the claustrophobic heat. The music is now too loud, screeching in my ears. The flashing lights too disorienting.

Limbs brush against mine. The closeness of other people feels sinister, like nails clawing at me, threatening to rip me to shreds.

My breath comes more and more shallow, and my temperature skyrockets. I need to get out of here.

I push and shove until I finally make it through the doors, gagging down gulps of hot evening air as I fall outside.

“Phoebe, you alright?”

The voice is familiar and a wave of emotion floods over me. “Hari?”

She’s standing next to a tall guy covered in tattoos, a cigarette dangling cooly from her fingers. “Phoebs, you’re not looking so good. I think we should get you back to your room.”

But suddenly, that’s the last thing I want. To be alone with my thoughts.

You’re disgusting.

“No. Where are they, the others?”

Hari takes a moment, tries to interpret my slurring. “I lost track of them. Why don’t you let me walk you back?”

“I’m going to…” I don’t bother finishing the sentiment. Instead, I stumble away, ignoring Hari’s pleas and narrowly avoiding the edge of the hostel’s pool.

The music from the bar slaps at my back as I continue towards what I think to be the beach. With every step, the party recedes, the dull thud of waves on sand replacing the rhythm of the speakers.

I stumble down a set of three wooden steps that transition the halfhearted landscaping of the hostel grounds into the beach, until my feet sink in the sand, grit already clinging to my toes.

I walk until the water kisses them, my flesh massaged by the sea.

And then an overwhelming exhaustion settles in my bones, so heavy and all-consuming that I drop to the ground, sand coating the plastic shrouding my body.

I close my eyes, and then I hear it.

My brother’s voice, again. As usual. And this time I know he’s right. I clamp my hands around my ears, but still it comes.

You thought you could fool them, make them love you. But it only took them a few weeks to see who you really are.

I put my hands over my ears, but his words still come, slippery and cruel.

You can’t just start over.

I throw myself upwards, running in what I think is the direction of the rooms. I want to collapse, to throw myself onto my mattress, stab my headphones in my ears and turn up my music as loud as it will go. Anything to drown him out.

As I run, my feet sliding over the silky sand, the voice comes back.

Why would any of them ever want to be around you? Even Claire is too good for you now.

And I know he’s right. I tried to convince them that I was this cool, take-no-shit woman. Someone who the guys wanted and the girls wanted to be like.

Little did they know.

The sob erupts out of me from somewhere deep and primal, stopping me in my tracks and bringing me to my knees.

Dirt clings to my legs, and as I look around, I realize I have no idea where I am.

I’m no longer on the beach, and judging by the silence, marked only by the soft call of a bird somewhere deep in the trees, I’m nowhere close to either the rooms or the party.

Panic floods through me, every thought and image coming in jagged pieces. I’m alone. And lost.

Until I hear it. The soft whisper of my name. Phoebe.

“You!” I yell, taking the person in. And I’ve never been happier to see someone in my life. I run straight towards them, wrapping my arms around them tightly. Because I know I’m safe.

“Come with me,” they say. “I’ll help you.”

So I do. And it’s not long before I realize I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.