Chapter 11 I Didn’t Mean to Ruin Everything
I Didn’t Mean to Ruin Everything
Wyatt
My ear is vibrating. Suddenly William’s there, in my dream, sticking my head into his rotting jack-o’-lantern, and for some reason it’s vibrating.
Right when it’s about to explode, I realize it’s some new way of killing people.
The pumpkin will explode, and with it my head.
William will be my executioner. All my friends, together with everyone else in Aspen, are standing around him, watching.
Aria is bouncing around with pom-poms and cheering the pumpkin on. Then it explodes, and I wake up.
I’m in bed, my breathing heavy. At first, I get the shock of my life because my ear is still vibrating, and for a second I think it wasn’t a dream. I feel like I’m stuck in an endless loop, but then I realize it’s just my phone.
The blanket slides off my naked upper body as I roll onto my stomach and grumble into my pillow. But the vibrations won’t let up, so I blindly reach for my phone, press the green button, and put it on speaker so I don’t have to move.
“What?” I mumble without knowing who’s calling.
“Wyatt.” It’s Knox. Judging by the sounds in the background, he’s eating. The spoon clinks against the ceramic bowl. “Please tell me you weren’t the lobster yesterday.”
Grinning, I roll onto my back and fold my hands behind my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, man.”
“What the fuck was going through your head?”
“Huh? I just told you it wasn’t me.”
“You and I both know that it was you hiding in that freaky costume, Wy.”
I snort. “Says the dude who showed up as a pair of underwear. What gave me away?”
“Mila. And the way you stared at Aria. Only you are that batshit.”
My grin keeps getting wider. I stretch out, rub the edges of my pillow between my thumb and forefinger, and let the previous night go through my head. “She talked to me, Knox.”
“Shit, Wy, come on. Can’t you just leave it alone?”
“No. Not as long as I don’t get to explain to her what really went down back then.”
Knox keeps on chewing away. “I tried to tell her. She doesn’t want to hear it, man. The video was enough.”
“She doesn’t want to hear it from you. But if I get the opportunity to clear everything up, then maybe I’ll finally get through to her.”
Knox sighs. “Fine, your secret’s safe with me. That goes for Paisley, too, as I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t tell Aria. But you’ve got to promise me something in return, Wy.”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t hurt her again.”
“You fucking with me?” I ball my hand into a fist around the corner of the pillow. All of a sudden, I’m filled with rage. “I never meant to hurt her. And I didn’t do it consciously, either. For six long years I grabbed stars out of the sky for her and had no intention of ever stopping!”
“Chill, dude.” Through the phone I can hear Knox putting his bowl in the sink. “I know she was the one and…”
“Is.”
“What?”
“She is the one.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant. And I also know that you were completely gone that night, didn’t have any idea what you were doing, and don’t remember a thing.”
“Thank God I don’t.”
“I just want to say, Wy, if you want her back, you’ve got to promise me that something like that never happens again. No drugs at any après-ski or hockey parties, and no more puck bunnies.”
“You know that I haven’t taken anything or had anything to drink since…last summer.”
“Yeah, Wyatt, of course. And I also know what Aria means to you. I just want your word. Or else I’m going to go see her right goddamn now and tell her that you were the fucking lobster.”
“You have my word, Knox. I swear that I’ll treat Aria like a queen.”
“Good.” He groans briefly, probably bending forward or something, and then there’s a rustling. “You didn’t mention that your arm was better.”
“My arm’s fucked.” I release my fingers from the pillow and run them through my hair. I edge to the side of the bed in my boxers and tug a pair of socks over my feet. “What made you come up with that?”
“There’s an article here in the Times. It says that you’re going to be playing next weekend, but I thought that…”
“Caralho! They printed that shit that fast?”
“What do you mean?”
I moan in frustration as I stand up and grab a shirt out of my closet. “There was a press conference yesterday, and it turns out the Snowdogs want to give me the boot. So I said that I’d be playing.”
From Knox’s end all I hear is his steady breathing before a longer exhale. “You’re not going to be able to pull that off, man.”
“Nooo, really?” My voice is muffled as I pull on my Snowdogs hoodie. “One sec. My phone’s been blowing up with texts.” I look at my display. Seeing our spokesperson’s name, Carl, I suck in my breath.
Come to the training center.
Right away.
Zayne Callahan wants to talk with you.
He’ll only be here till eight, and he really wants to talk with you, so I suggest you move your ass, Lopez.
The last text came ten minutes later.
And bring me a soy latte, will you?
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and put my phone back to my ear. “Sorry, Knox, I’ve got to split. I think there’s a problem. The big guy wants to see me.”
“Shit. Well, I mean, he can’t just kick you off like that, can he? What’s your agent got to say?”
I grab my hat off the dresser, put it on backward, and bound down the stairs. “He wants to wring my neck, too. No idea what’s going on right now. I’ll call later, bro.”
“Word. Do it.”
In the kitchen I do my best to be quiet because it’s just a little past seven and Camila is still asleep.
First I make myself a coffee, then one for her, like every morning.
I’m about to put it on the table when the front door suddenly opens.
It’s such a shock that I actually duck behind the island.
If it’s a burglar or something, I should run back upstairs and get my hockey stick.
But no, it’s my little sister sneaking in on tiptoe.
There is so much makeup on her face that I barely recognize her, and underneath her jacket I catch the hem of a miniskirt. She looks beautiful, but tired, so damn tired beneath all those layers of makeup. It’s hard to believe what I’m seeing, so I just stand stock-still in the doorway to the hall.
As Camila takes the first stair, I awake from my stupor, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing because I’m pissed and sad and overwhelmed.
“Where were you?”
She winces. Her hand slides off the rail, and she presses her back against the wall while her eyes dig into mine.
“Wyatt. I thought you were still asleep.”
“Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”
She bites her lower lip. Her dark-red lipstick smears. As she takes a breath, I realize that she has no idea how to talk her way out of this.
“How long has this been going on? How long have you been sneaking into the house in the morning and acting as if you’ve just gotten up when you come down to breakfast?”
She purses her lips. Camila won’t say anything; I know that much. She never does. Instead, she crosses her arms just like always when she wants to erect a wall. “Just today. I wanted to go to another party yesterday.”
“Sure. As if, Mila.”
“It’s simply got nothing to do with you, Wyatt!”
I want to slam my palm against the doorframe, but I force myself to stand still.
“I’m responsible for you,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Do you think I want someone to show up and put you in a girl’s home because I failed to notice that my underage sister was hanging around clubs all night before going to school in the morning?”
“Well, I’m still going to school! And my grades are still good! So why are you concerned?”
“For you, damn it! Camila, I am worried about you because I love you and want things to go well for you. You missed that somehow?”
She sticks out her chin. “I’m good.”
“Apparently not. Take a look at yourself, Mila. Sure, you’re beautiful, you’re always beautiful, but I can’t even recognize you. I’m just worried.”
Her eyes fill with tears, but she holds them back.
Tears of rage, I know that much. She always cries when she’s furious.
Her face distorted, she grabs her bag and pulls out her wallet.
It’s still the pale pink Hello Kitty one I gave her for Christmas when she was thirteen.
Her cheeks are starting to turn red as her chin trembles, and she pulls out a clump of bills.
“I’m doing this for us!” She tosses the money at my feet.
“You think I like going to school without having slept, and then going to Dan later on at the ski hut, and then attempting to do my homework before going back out again?”
“Where, Mila? Where have you been going? What the hell have you been up to?”
“You know what I’ve been doing, Wy.”
“Stripping.”
“Dancing.”
“You dance around, half-naked, at parties. That’s stripping.”
“No, it’s dancing! I don’t take off my clothes for anyone!”
“I know that that’s what you do, Mila. You did that in the past already, and…”
“The past isn’t today!” Her glance is firm.
“Just because in the past we did things that we aren’t proud of doesn’t mean that they stay that way forever.
People change, Wy. And it’s fun, okay? I’m passionate about dancing.
Dancing is… But ever since Mom and Dad…” She raises her arms in a desperate gesture, her eyes shimmering.
As angry as I am, the look on her face makes it all disappear. Standing there, her mascara running, her lipstick pale, tears in her eyes, porra, all I can see is my hurt little sister.
“Listen…” I say. “I don’t want to say that stripping is not okay. It’s a job, and if you like it, fine. But do it when you’re twenty-one. You’re still in high school, Mila. You’re not even allowed in those clubs.”
She stares at me, still mad.
I sigh. “I don’t want the authorities to say I’m unfit to take care of you.”
I move to take her in my arms, but she pushes me away.
“No, leave me alone, Wyatt. Just leave me alone.”
“Mila, please. I’m sorry. I’ll sort everything out and even get some office job or other, or…”