Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
I’m informed by my mom that Cecily will be driving me to Nora’s party, and there will be no arguing about it.
My protests about not needing a chauffeur or chaperone go unnoticed.
Summer is winding down, and tensions are ballooning.
Mom doesn’t let Jasper out of her sight, and she’s become a firm believer in the buddy system if my sister or I even consider leaving the house.
There is no walking to the grocery store or fast-food joint alone.
Mom would be content to lock us inside until September.
Nora and Cecily know each other better than I thought, and my mom, Paige, and Holden all think it’ll be “good for us to get out for a night.” I’m not the only member of the antisocial club on the block, apparently.
Rather than fight it further, I save the ammo for a bigger argument, whatever it may be. It isn’t too far to Nora’s house, and even Cecily and I can survive the awkward drive to get there.
I meet Cecily in her driveway across the street, climbing into the passenger seat of her car. It’s nicer than my old car, with its updated features and Bluetooth speaker. She asks if I want to connect my music, but at my refusal, she turns on some indie artist vaguely I recognize.
She’s more dressed up than I’ve seen her. Her hair falls in ringlets, and her lips are glossy. No amount of foundation can hide how pale she is or how sunken her cheeks are, but she cleans up nice.
“You and Nora are close,” I say, not quite a question.
Cecily nods. She doesn’t glance away from the road, and I’m grateful. I’m on a blade’s edge, fingers curled around the bottom of my seat.
“We went to the same summer camp a few times when we were kids.”
I sit up straighter. “So you know her brother.” Heat slinks up my neck, and I clear my throat. “Knew him, I mean.”
“Finn,” she says, like I don’t know. And I suppose I probably shouldn’t be overly familiar with the disappeared brother of my co-worker. “Yeah. I was closer with Nora, but the two of them were attached at the hip, so…”
I’d resigned to surface-level conversation for this ride, but the mention of Finn cracks the lid on my fascination. Any confirmation that he’s not truly just a figment of my imagination.
“What was he like?” It’s an odd question to ask, but it slips out before I can stop it. “Nora doesn’t really talk about him,” I add, like that makes it any better.
“Like I said, I didn’t know him well. I guess their dad was…not that great, got on them both, him more than Nora, but you’d never know. Always a smile on his face and trying to make everybody laugh.”
Unease makes my chest constrict. “What do you think happened to him?” I ask.
Cecily’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “I don’t know.” She looks my way. “But I guess if I did, if anybody did, they’d have found him, right?”
“I guess,” I say. Silence lapses over the car again.
I’ve ruined the easy peace by bringing up a dead boy, but in Cecily’s and my defense, neither of us are great conversationalists.
The rest of the drive passes with us staring out the window, pretending to listen to the music coming out of the stereo.
I keep a vise grip on the sides of my seat to curb my racing heart.
There are a handful of cars parked in the driveway when we arrive. Nora said her mom and stepdad are at some spa for the night, so the extra cars can only be attendees. Cecily parks against the curb, staring past me at the front of the house.
“I can feel the enthusiasm,” I say.
Cecily huffs a laugh. “I don’t go out much. But Nora’s an old friend.”
“And our parents like to play social matchmakers,” I say.
“And that.” Cecily shuts off the engine.
“How are we getting home? If I know Nora, there’s definitely alcohol in there.”
“Oh, I don’t drink. Messes with my treatment. So when you’re ready to go, just come find me.”
“You sure? I don’t want you to have to leave early.”
“Leaving early is one of my favorite activities,” Cecily says.
“A woman after my own heart.”
She smiles and climbs out of the car. I follow.
Nora’s invitation said to come by anytime after eight thirty, and at half past nine, the bass from inside has the grass vibrating beneath my boots.
Already, a few deserted Solo cups litter the lawn.
The front door is cracked. Dim light spills out onto the porch, where two girls are passing a vape pen back and forth.
I hold my breath as I walk by, making my way to the door and slipping inside.
It’s a cool night, but the house is a good twenty degrees warmer than outside. And it’s filled with people.
Nora’s house is two stories but modest. I’ve walked past it a few times but never been inside. After her mom married her stepdad a year ago, the three of them moved into a bigger house. A house Finn never lived in.
I wonder if Finn has a bedroom here. If his posters or photos or books are sitting up there, waiting for someone who is never coming back.
I shake the thought away as a boy my age, reeking of alcohol, stumbles by me and Cecily in the foyer.
I shove past him into the hall, following the music and hoping the kitchen is close by.
The only way I’ll make it through tonight is with a drink.
I’m already fighting the urge to bolt. I don’t know how Cecily will survive the night sober.
People are everywhere—I swear every upperclassman from the high school is in the house. It’s not a huge school, only a couple hundred kids, but half of them must be here right now.
We slip past a few of them, relief spreading over me as I spot the doorway to the kitchen. Inside, kids gather around the massive granite island. In the center of the island sits a giant water cooler I’d bet anything doesn’t have water in it. Beside it, two toppling stacks of cups.
I beeline for the cooler, filling the cup to the brim and taking a gulp.
Cecily finds a cooler with sodas in it and clutches a Sprite between her hands.
After a few minutes, a boy Cecily’s age notices her, and the pair falls into a conversation about their classes.
She gives me an apologetic smile as he leads her to the other room, promising the presence of some other kids from their graduating class.
“Find me when you’re ready,” she calls, and I nod.
I hang in the corner of the kitchen, sipping my horrible drink, hoping no one tries to talk to me. I’d meant to seek out Nora, maybe latch on to her for the night like I used to do with Harper, but that would mean finding her. It would mean leaving the safety of this tiny space.
Taking one more burning sip, I push through the kitchen doorway and into the throng of drunk, sweaty teenagers. At least five people elbow me in the side, and one steps on my foot by the time I spot Nora’s white-blond hair near the front of the room.
The birthday girl is bent over a table, speaking intently to the DJ.
I shoulder through a few boys, all of whom have forty-ouncers taped to their hands, and slam into Nora. I have to grab her to steady myself. She whirls, clearly ready to lay into whoever bumped her, but when she sees me, her bright red lips curve up in a wide smile.
“Jo!” she yells over the music, throwing her arms around me. I can smell the alcohol on her, and her arms are a little sticky where they’re wrapped around my neck. This far into my drink, I’m not the steadiest either, and for a minute we grip each other for balance.
“I can’t believe you came!” Nora says, leaning to yell in my ear. I can barely hear her over the music. “Me and Paige had a bet. She owes me!”
“A bet?” I ask, souring at the thought of them betting on whether I’d vacate my little cocoon.
Nora smiles. “I bet on you, obviously,” she says. “And I was right.” She peers down at the cup in my hands, satisfied to see it. “I see you found the jungle juice. Good.”
“It tastes like poison,” I say.
Nora giggles. “It’s supposed to.”
“Happy birthday!” I call.
Nora grins, patting my cheek. “Thanks. Now let’s move. This is my song.”
“Oh, I don’t really danc—”
“You do tonight!” Nora says. She takes my cup, pushing it into my face, the message clear.
Realizing I’m not going anywhere without finishing my drink, I do exactly what I shouldn’t do and chug it.
Already, the alcohol swims under my skin, warming me from the inside out. The edges of the world narrow, until all that exists is this room, the music, and the body heat.
I set my empty cup somewhere, and Nora pulls me into the crowd. I follow, not entirely in control of my feet. I feel clunky and out of place, but I dance.
At some point, a girl joins us, a friend of Nora’s, I think, because the pair squeal and hug like they’ve been apart for years. She says her name, something like Jennica or Danica.
Even in the dark, there’s no mistaking how beautiful she is. She’s not too tall and roped with slim muscle. A soccer player, like Nora, maybe. Dark curls are pinned up on her head, and her olive skin shimmers, like she doused herself in glitter. Maybe she did.
When she takes my hands, I let her. Her fingers trace down my arms and mine settle on her waist, and god, I haven’t been this close to anyone in ages. I’d forgotten it, the closeness, the warmth.
One song ends and another begins. I catch sight of Nora attached to some girl’s mouth, and suddenly the world feels so far away. The town, the accident, the things I’ve lost. The missing kids and the terrifying creek and the woods behind it holding their secrets.
Nothing exists but this room and the music and the girl dancing against me, her belly pressed to mine. Her hands slide up my shoulders, across my collarbones, and for a terrible, horrible moment, I see someone else’s face in hers. Feel someone else’s hands.
And it isn’t this pretty, nameless girl I’m dancing with, but Finn. The one person I really want to do this with. Who I want to be this close to.
I pull back, sobering up long enough for my instincts to wake up and start screaming. I yell an apology her way and bolt, pushing through the crowd and into the hall. There is a massive line for the downstairs bathroom, so I head up the stairs, gripping the banister for dear life.
The second-floor hallway spins, and I keep one hand on the wall as I stumble down it. I open the first door on the left, slipping inside and shutting it behind me. It occurs to me a moment too late that I didn’t check whether this was a bathroom or not.
I fumble for a light switch. The overhead light doesn’t come on with the switch, but strings of yellow bulbs, stretching across the ceilings and draped down the walls, wash the room in warm light.
Definitely not a bathroom.
The room isn’t small, but there’s furniture jammed everywhere—a massive bed, a big dresser on one side and a vanity on the other. Rather than feeling crowded, it’s cozy.
Each wall has a theme. On the left are scraps of paper, quotes, sticky notes, you name it. Like the wall is bleeding words. On the right, posters from movies and bands overlap.
Behind the bed are photos. Every square inch of wall is covered in them.
Polaroids, printed pictures, film strips from photo booths. Nora’s life splashed across the wall.
It takes my alcohol-addled brain a moment to realize there’s an order to it. Chronological. On the outer edges are older photos, of younger Nora and her friends, her family, camp photos and Christmas cards. The center holds recent photos.
Finn is all over the outer edges. Toddler-sized Finn and Nora, identical down to the odd bob haircuts. Kindergarten Finn and Nora, gripping hands and grinning outside their classroom. Then middle school. The first day of high school.
Nora’s story continues on, but Finn disappears from the narrative.
The door whines open behind me and I jump back, aware I’ve been caught red-handed in my unapologetic invasion of privacy.
“What part of no hooking up in my room do you people not—” Nora stops. Relaxes. “Oh. Sorry, I thought someone came up here to…” She waves a hand. “Whatcha doing? Snooping?”
“I was looking for the bathroom,” I say.
“You’re close. One more door down.”
I nod. I’m about to head for the door when Nora joins me beside the bed. She follows my gaze to the photos.
“I’m a tad bit sentimental. I’ve been told it’s a problem,” Nora says. Her voice slurs slightly, but I know mine is doing the same, so I can’t judge.
“No, it’s really cool. It’s like…” I scramble for words, coming up empty. I try anyway. “It’s your history, all laid out.”
Nora’s gaze slides to the edges of the wall. She reaches out, tracing a finger along an elementary-aged Finn’s form. They’re both in ill-fitting gym uniforms, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning. Both have braces.
“You’d have liked him,” Nora says.
An alarm bell rings in my head, and I know I should end this conversation before my drunk brain lets something slip. I’ve only known Nora and Finn as separate entities, but in Nora’s mind, the pair are still intertwined. The way my siblings and I are and always will be.
“He’d have liked you, too,” she says.
I can feel the truth building on my tongue, shoving against my teeth, yearning to be free.
It would be a relief to not have to hide it. But it would be cruel of me. To break the news that her brother isn’t missing but dead, and he isn’t in the great beyond but down the street, trapped in my house. I doubt she’d believe me either.
And on her birthday, nonetheless.
So instead of confessing, I say, “I wish I could have met him.”
Nora smiles. She touches his image once more, then clears her throat. “All right. Enough sappy shit. There’s tequila and pretty people waiting for us downstairs,” Nora says. She loops her arm through mine and tugs me for the door. “It’s my birthday. You’re legally obligated to have a good time.”
I let her pull me back down the stairs and into the party, and for a little while the chasm of loneliness that cracked open in my chest last December swings shut.