Chapter Twelve
Juniper
O bsessively calling and texting Reena’s new number every five seconds, I took the Miami Trolley through Allapattah, then walked all the way back to her house.
She didn’t answer my calls.
She didn’t reply to any texts.
None of them even indicated that they were read.
I sent another text.
Me: Did you even turn on your new phone?
Me: WHAT IS GOING ON?
I typed again before I could stop myself.
Me: I’m going to your place.
Stupid scary-ass blond god. Stupid day drinking. Stupid day, period.
And this stupidly nice new phone.
Me: Blame all the texts on this new phone. And day drinking. Whatever. JUST CALL ME.
Trying not to freak out or faint from heat stroke, I told myself I would just check to see if Reena’s suitcase was still there. If it was, I’d wait. If it wasn’t…
Then I’d freak out.
Or freak out more. Not that it would change anything. I couldn’t change anything. She’d made her choice, and she’d seemed to go willingly with that blond god, so what did I know? Maybe having her as a friend, only to have her take off, was just a reminder. I didn’t even blame her for the lying because I knew sometimes you had to lie. Besides, in the long run, it didn’t matter. One way or another, everyone eventually left.
I was an island.
I’d been here before. Now I was back.
I told myself it was nothing new.
But it felt shitty and panicky, and I was hoping her suitcase would still be there, so that was why I was going to check. That, and I’d left my purse at her place and my car parked on her street. Which, seriously, I hoped my car would still be there. Not that it was anything to steal, but still.
I turned the corner onto her block and sent another text.
Me: I’m on your street. I’m coming to your house now to check if your suitcase is still there .
Me: And I’m using the key you gave me to get in. Sorry. Okay, not sorry. You gave it to me. No takebacks! Wait. Unless you want it? You didn’t say. Oh my God. CALL ME.
Me: I meant please. Like pretty please with sugar on top, even though you don’t eat sugar. Which, you know, is fine.
I glanced down the street at the one pink house on the block.
Me: I’m almost to your place.
But no matter what I found or didn’t find, I wouldn’t freak out.
I didn’t do freak-outs anymore. Or not often, and not this kind. I—nope, not going there. I was just going to check for the suitcase. And maybe take a shower to wash off that crappy bar and this shitty walk and this horrible day.
Then I’d go back to my disgusting no-tell motel, sleep off the stupid shots, and wake up tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be a new day.
Sunrise on the island, and all that crap.
My island.
Well, my metaphorical island. The place I’d been going to since I was a kid and I’d imagine sunshine so bright and skies so blue that it never rained, and each sunset was a sunrise waiting to happen.
A new day.
I could do new days.
I did them all the time.
I—
A sound I hadn’t heard for a long enough time that it was now shocking, rained down around me like a thousand explosions of fear, and I froze.