Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
IN HINDSIGHT, I SHOULD’VE ASKED one or two questions about the gig Mikey’s band booked, but I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that when she said it was a friend of a friend of a friend’s Cowboys vs.
Aliens Fourth of July party, I’d end up standing outside Starr and Leni’s house in a space cowboy costume.
My silver cowboy hat is paired with a hot-pink jacket we thrifted this afternoon, and as if I wasn’t already sweating from the layers, the stress sweat starts up in earnest at the sight of the familiar front door.
This is the closest he’s been to me all day.
By the time he dragged himself out of his room late this morning, I was already being pulled out the door by Felicity for our big costume-thrifting mission, and we didn’t return until the afternoon.
We worked on our costumes in a group, Jamie at one end of the living room, me at the other, and Sawyer between us like the world’s most annoying chaperone.
Now Jamie brushes his knuckles against mine, and my racing heart gives a sudden leap.
I turn my head away, almost fully facing Felicity as emotions battle it out in my chest—Completely Terrified vs. Downright Lovestruck, donning their boxing gloves.
“I’m fucking baking in this thing,” Felicity says, tugging at her collar.
She’s wearing a jumpsuit under a utility vest, which she borrowed from Jamie, to be Will Smith in Independence Day, which she claims is both cowboy and alien adjacent: aliens, because alien invasion, and Will Smith, because Wild Wild West. “Who the hell let me wear a long-sleeved jumpsuit tonight? Are you guys even my real friends?”
“Hey, I warned you,” Andres says, coming up on her other side. He’s in a cow pajama onesie, the hood pulled back.
It’s like there’s a physical force field keeping me from crossing the property line, and everyone else has stopped beside me, single file.
“Why are you all just standing here?” Sawyer asks, pushing his way between Jamie and me as he shoves his alien sunglasses up onto his head—the most he was willing to do for a costume, even though it’s nearly sundown already.
“This is Starr and Leni’s house,” Jamie says.
Sawyer pulls a face. “Gross. Do we have to go?”
“Shut up, Sawyer.”
He swings around to look at me. “Oh, that’s an interesting attitude coming from you right now.”
I flip him off, holding my middle finger in his direction as I stomp up the side yard to the open gate Mikey directed us to use. I drop my arm as I pass through it, slowing so the others can catch up.
The backyard is early-stage crowded, clumps of people milling around, too sober to socialize outside their respective friend groups.
Mikey and the band are at the back of the yard setting up, and there’s a keg by the house, manned by a few guys I recognize from the day I saw Starr and Leni on campus with Izzy.
I think one of them is Izzy’s boyfriend.
I freeze as the sliding door bangs open and Starr totters out in a pair of sky-high heels.
She’s in a silver leotard and matching alien antennae, her body painted with blue-purple shimmer.
She’s holding a cup in one hand, already a little sweat-wilted and hazy-eyed, but when she spots me, her posture snaps straight.
I turn to the others, catching Jamie’s concerned gaze before forcing my eyes past him. The last thing I want to do is set off my brother right now, and he’s clearly already suspicious, if the way he keeps shoving himself between us is any indication. “I’ll be right back.”
I start across the patio, bracing myself as Starr goes rigid and defensive.
“Hey,” I say, aiming for casual, despite having not spoken to her in weeks. It’s the longest we’ve ever gone without talking, even during our worst fights.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her words sharp despite the fact that she’s clearly buzzed.
“My friend is in the band. I didn’t know where the party was before we got here, or I would’ve texted you and Leni,” I say, surprised at my steadiness. “I’m just going to stay until they’re done playing, and then I’ll go. Is that okay?”
The last time I saw Starr, I felt gutted and powerless, everything in me knotted up with anxiety. But I feel like I’m the one in control right now. Maybe because I care less today than I did back then.
Starr glances around, her mouth tightening. “It’s not up to me. Leni’s house, Leni’s rules.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, backing away from her. “I guess I’ll find Leni?”
Starr shrugs, stalking off.
I do a scan of the yard, but I don’t see Leni anywhere, and I don’t feel like tracking her down.
It sounds like they might be in an argument—maybe Leni did the big bad of asking Starr to pick up her nasty gym shoes from the entryway before everyone arrived or something else benign—but it’s not like it could be serious enough that Starr won’t tell Leni I’m here.
And if they’re fighting, it’s nothing I want or need to involve myself in.
“How’d that go?” Felicity asks when I reach our group again, which has dwindled down to her, Jamie, and Sawyer. The air between the latter two is thick with tension, like they’re each willing the other to disappear.
“Well, she didn’t throw me out, so…”
On the stage, Mikey taps the main microphone, wincing as it squeals. The band is dressed like space pirates, which I only know because Mikey told me so before she left. Without the context of a ship or space, they really just look like they love a flowy shirt.
The drummer taps out a quick beat, testing all her equipment, and I’m distracted as someone catcalls. I follow the sound.
“Who are they?” I ask, nodding at the group across the yard, which includes a dark-skinned girl in a silver minidress and a sun-kissed blonde in full green spandex.
The latter is the source of the noise, and when the drummer taps out another beat, she whoops again, grabbing the cowboy hat off the tall, tan guy beside her and waving it in the air.
He snatches it back, glaring at her as he replaces it on his head.
The other guy with them slides his arm around the blonde’s waist, pulling her in. He’s the only one not in costume.
“Oh, those are Tallulah’s friends,” Felicity says.
“Who’s Tallulah?”
Felicity laughs. “You’ve met Tallulah! The drummer!”
I look to the stage. The girl behind the drum set, with her dark hair and sullen expression, looks more like a Drucilla or a Hestia. Tallulah is such a flowery name. This girl looks like she eats human hearts for breakfast.
But then the girl in the minidress breaks from the group, rounding the stage with a bottle of water and what looks like a packet of cookies, and Tallulah breaks into a grin that lights up her face. She tilts her head up, and they kiss.
“That’s her girlfriend, Lucy,” Felicity says.
“The other one’s her stepsister—I don’t remember her name; it’s a mouthful.
That guy she’s with—her boyfriend—he does that webcomic, The Green Wave?
About the giant wave that engulfs Florida, and then the sea creatures take over the state and because it’s still part of America, they start running for office and stuff?
And they elect a siren who pushes these super radical environmental policies that end up sweeping the country? ”
“Wait, he writes that?” my brother says, sticking his head between us.
I whip around to stare at him. “You read that?”
He gives me a look like I’m the dumbest person on the planet. “It’s about a hot mermaid.”
“Don’t let him lie to you,” Jamie says. “He only read it because he was trying to date a poli-sci major last year, and the comic is all about environmentalism and voting in the interest of the greater good, even if it doesn’t serve you personally.”
At the sight of my confused expression, Sawyer explains, “In the season two finale, the wave recedes and people start reinhabiting Florida again. So the siren gets removed from office, but by then there’s enough trash on that one trash island in the Pacific Ocean that the sea creatures claim it as a nation, and they establish a government and join the UN with the siren as their president.
But there’s a scheming octopus who’s trying to start a civil war so they can establish states, because what the siren wants doesn’t align with everyone’s needs, and some of them are still pretty pissed they lost Florida. Also, stop talking to my sister.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s addressing Jamie, because he doesn’t pause or even turn his head as he delivers this final line.
“I’m going to say hi,” Sawyer says, starting across the yard.
“O… kay,” I say to his retreating back.
“Your brother is cracked,” Felicity says. “And I say this as someone who takes two SSRIs.” She sighs, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m gonna see if Mikey needs anything. Am I allowed to leave you two unchaperoned?”
I flush, unable to look at Jamie. “Well, you heard my brother. Jamie’s not allowed to even speak to me.”
Felicity narrows her eyes, looking between us. “Okay. I don’t like that, but—fine, whatever.” She flaps a hand at us, walking off. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
“I thought we were her monkeys,” Jamie says.
“You certainly are,” I reply.
His mouth kicks up in a half-smile. This is a new side of Jamie. When he dated Lyric, I saw a roller coaster of emotions, but never this. Never cute. Not even with Juana, his more normal relationship.
But maybe this Jamie is just for me. The thought gives me butterflies that I have to bite my cheek to quell.
“Stop,” I say.
“Stop what?”
“You know what.”
He tilts his head.
“Trying to be cute,” I hiss.
“So you think I’m cute.”
“Did I not establish that well enough last night?”
He leans closer. “Don’t talk about last night.” At my surprised look, he grins. “I’ve only got about thirty percent of my self-control left, and I’m using it all not to kiss you right now.”
My face goes nuclear. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he says, his grin turning teasing.