18. Juliet
18
JULIET
F riday arrives, and I’m ready to chew my own arm off to get the hell out of my apartment—even if it means attending a shittastic party. When I still had my BMW, I used to just drive into the city for the weekend and get trashed at a club with Bran or Avery to unwind. Now, I have little else in the way of entertainment options other than Roquel’s party invite.
A week of dealing with insults from Megan and her crew and the childish pranks of trash in my locker, gum on my seats, and worms in my lunch have me strung so tight that I’m ready to beat someone to a bloody pulp. Yet, still, I haven’t made it back to Cory’s since seeing Giovanni Vargas there. My safe haven has become a place to avoid and I hate him all the more for that.
Nothing is sacred anymore thanks to the Scorpion Kings.
Lights flash from the parking lot of my apartment building, spearing into the thin window above my kitchen sink. Before Roquel can flash them a second time, I’m out the door and heading down the stairs leading to the parking lot. Unlike what I used to wear to Prep parties—heels, club dresses, and thousand-dollar diamonds—tonight I've opted for the fashion of a wallflower. A pair of ripped jeans, a black tanktop, and a black and gray flannel. My blue hair is pulled up in a high ponytail at the back of my head, swinging against my neck as I jog down the metal stairs and hit the pavement at a light run.
Roquel’s car—an older gray Toyota Camry—sits towards the back of the lot, pointed directly towards my building. I hit the sidewalk and make my way over, pivoting towards the passenger’s side door. I pop the handle and slide inside to find her touching up her lipstick in the cracked visor mirror before slapping it back up and tossing the Dollar Store brand tube into the console.
Her eyes widen when she takes a look at me. “Wow, Jules,” she murmurs, her eyes roving down my clothes with no small amount of dismay, “I was never invited to the Silverwood Prep parties, but … is this what the rich kids are wearing these days?”
I roll my eyes and gesture to the frayed jean skirt she’s wearing over fishnets and the ripped black band shirt tucked into the waistband. “It’s going to be cold outside,” I tell her, not bothering to answer the question. “You’re going to freeze wearing that getup.”
I slide my seatbelt on as Roquel backs out of the parking spot at the speed of light. My heart jumps against my ribcage as the seatbelt immediately constricts across my chest. Fuck.
“Get enough alcohol in me and I won’t even notice the cold,” she says.
“Aren’t you driving?” I remind her pointedly as I try not to focus on how close she gets to the curb as she speeds out onto the main road.
She shrugs, unconcerned. “You can drive back.”
I sit back, annoyance flaring to life. I hadn’t planned on drinking—there isn’t anyone I trust in this town to see me even remotely intoxicated—but I’d at least wanted the option. Roquel chatters on about the guy she’s hoping to see at the party. She says the guy’s name so many times I’m sure it’s ingrained in the back of my skull by the time she slows down and turns onto a dark street. I sit up a bit straighter and glance around as she shuts off her headlights and slows the car down to a stop halfway up the block. She puts the car into park but doesn’t turn it off as she lifts her phone from the console and swipes it open.
Confused, I glance from where she sits typing out a text to the dark street ahead. “What are you doing?” I finally ask.
Roquel finishes typing out her message and hits send before replying. “We’re picking up Madison,” she answers. “Her parents are…” Roquel grimaces and sighs before unclicking her seatbelt and turning fully to face me. “Madison’s parents are a bit strict,” she says. “Remember how I told you about last year’s fiasco with her old boyfriend? What he did?”
I nod and Roquel’s lips pinch together briefly before she continues. “She isn’t allowed out,” Roquel says. “Not to go to work, not to go to parties?—”
“Wait, but you got her a job at The Dionysus Lounge,” I remind her.
Roquel tips her head to the side. “Yeah, and her parents have no clue. She has to sneak out to go to work too. I doubt she’d ever say anything, but I’m pretty sure she gets into trouble every time they catch her gone.”
“Where do they think she’s going?”
Roquel shrugs. “Dunno. That’s her business.”
I sit back against the cheap faux leather seat. “I don’t blame them for being protective,” I murmur as a pit opens up in my stomach. “If some asshole released a sex tape of my kid, I’d fucking kill them.” Not that I’ll ever have kids. With parents like mine—a criminal and a coward—I doubt I’d be much of a mom.
The sound of Roquel’s scoff brings my attention back to her. “They’re not protective ,” Roquel mimics the last word as if it’s a filthy curse. “They’re controlling.”
“At least they care.” Unlike mine.
The reminder hits me in the chest. The numerous emails from my father’s lawyer asking me to see him aren’t the only things I’ve been avoiding. My dad’s best friend, Morpheus Calloway, is another piece of my past I don’t want to think about. He’s been emailing me a lot too, asking to meet up and practically begging me to reconsider his offer. Unlike my parents, Morpheus is a good person. He feels guilty for his best friend’s daughter—even if that best friend almost made him lose his entire business.
He’s the one person in this entire fucking town that doesn’t hate me and isn’t trying to use me. He just wants to make sure I’m taken care of, and it almost hurts that I won’t let myself rely on him. I can’t. No one gets my full trust anymore. Not even him, even if he probably deserves it. Anger curdles in my stomach, flaring to life.
“Just because some parents are around doesn’t mean they should be,” Roquel murmurs quietly—almost too quiet for me to hear, but I hear it. Slowly, I turn my head again to face her. She’s no longer looking at me though. Instead, her eyes are locked on a distant point through the front windshield. “Sometimes, leaving is the better choice. If all they’re going to do is ruin our lives and fuck up our futures, then they can get lost and leave us to our own devices.”
There’s obviously something there with her words, some dark past or maybe even present. Though a part of me wants to offer my condolences or even reassurances, I keep my mouth shut. If anything, my current predicament pretty much solidifies that I have no business trying to help anyone. I can’t even help myself. A quiet tension settles in the vehicle as we wait several more minutes and then a dark figure appears at the top of a fence two houses down from where we’re parked. My eyes widen as I lean forward and realize it’s Madison.
The girl is agile as she climbs and swings both of her legs over the fence before dropping down into a crouch. She stays hunched over and runs down the length of the first house and then the second before she straightens and slows her pace.
“Her house is another street over,” Roquel quietly explains. “She asked me to park here so her parents wouldn’t get suspicious and she just climbed her back neighbors' gates.”
“Damn,” I breathe. “She should be an athlete with those skills.”
That comment more than anything else, I think, breaks the awkwardness and Roquel flashes me an amused smile. “She is,” she admits. “She runs track and field.” Almost as soon as the words are out of her mouth, though, her lips twist into a scowl. “For people like us, you have to either be an athlete or a genius to get ahead. She’ll get a scholarship eventually and get out from under her parents’ thumbs.”
I nod my agreement as Mads gets closer to the vehicle, peers in, and then smiles and waves as she moves toward the back passenger door next to the sidewalk. The door opens with a metal creak and then thuds shut as she scoots inside and pulls on her seatbelt.
“All set?” Roquel asks as she flips her lights back on and buckles herself.
“Yup,” Mads responds, offering me a small smile.
Roquel does a three-point turn, forgoing pulling into one of the driveways, and soon we’re off, heading towards the edge of Silverwood.
I’m not one for small talk, but with Mads, she makes it easy. As Roquel drives us farther and farther from the town limits of Silverwood, I focus on Mads to keep myself from throwing up or grabbing the wheel from her fucking hands. If I’d known how bad of a driver Roquel would be, I don’t know that I would’ve agreed to come to this thing.
Mads and I chat about anything and everything. To my surprise, she’s not just good at hopping fences, but she’s a straight-A student. Makes me wonder how she came to have such a douche for a boyfriend or how he managed to take advantage of her last year. Then I think of Brandon and Avery and remember that I’d had the same kind of douches for both a boyfriend and best friend. Unwilling to let them take up any more space in my head, I push them out of my mind and focus on the passing scenery as Roquel’s Camry starts to slow, rattling as she turns onto a dirt driveway, splitting a line of dark trees.
There are no streetlights out in the country, so the dual headlights at the front of the car are the only illumination—sending dusky yellow beams out over the dirt road. We travel several more minutes until the line of trees is disrupted.
I didn’t even realize that I’d been tensing up until the sight of an old, dilapidated farmhouse comes into view along with several bonfires situated around the property. There are dozens of cars all parked haphazardly around each other at various angles as if the drivers were either already drunk when they arrived or that was their attempt at making sure no one could box them in.
“We’re here!” Roquel crows excitedly, her little car slowing even more even though her body seems to be vibrating in the driver’s seat.
The Camry jerks to a stop and my chest slams into the seatbelt, knocking the air from my lungs. Before I manage to unbuckle myself, Roquel has already hopped out. Mads and I exchange a look before following her out of the vehicle at a much slower pace. The second we get out, the scent of cheap alcohol and gasoline hits me. My upper lip curls back in disgust and Roquel flashes me a warning look as she adjusts her top a bit lower.
“Don’t start,” she says. “We’re here for a reason—to have fun.”
“And to show Megan that Juliet isn’t scared of her?” Mads adds in a questioning but amused tone.
Roquel and I both turn to look at her.
She shrugs. “I’m not stupid. I knew that was the only way you’d convince her to come,” she says to Roquel.
“I don’t give a fuck about Megan.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms as a breeze drifts by. I’m glad I opted for the longer-sleeved flannel rather than something like Roquel’s outfit as she shudders and then turns to march toward the fires.
“Come on!” she calls over her shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink.”
Mads hesitates, glancing at me. “Isn’t she driving?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not planning on drinking,” I tell her. “I can drive us back.”
Mads considers that for a moment and then sighs. “Do you have her keys?”
My eyes widen when I realize I don’t, and Roquel is already halfway to the party, leaving the two of us behind. “Fuck,” I mutter and start to pick up the pace.
Soft, feminine laughter at my back has me pausing and glancing over my shoulder as Mads chuckles. “And that,” she admits, “is the real reason I came. Roquel’s pretty known for not being able to come to parties on her own, but then ditching whoever she’s with the second she gets here if they can’t keep up. She means well, but…” Mads shrugs as if to say there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
A groan rumbles up my chest. “Ugh, I really don’t want to do this,” I tell her, reaching up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “If I knew she’d ditch, I would’ve?—”
Sharp, squealing laughter echoes down from the top of the hill we parked on towards the farmhouse and bonfires. I cut myself off and glance up just in time to see Roquel rushing towards a beefy guy I think I’ve seen sitting around the footballers' table in the cafeteria at school. Hudson Grey—the guy’s name is stamped to my mind because of how much she talked about him from my place to Madison’s.
Hudson’s face scrunches up for a split second when he spots Roquel, but he doesn’t push her away when she dives for his arms and hugs him. I shake my head with sympathy. She’s obviously way more into him than he is into her, but like any teenage boy, he leers down at her low-cut top to the rounded curves of her tits. Then he cops a feel of her ass and she laughs, swatting at him playfully. I grind my teeth together until my molars ache in protest.
I’m not sure if we're friends or not, but there aren’t many classmates who have been as neutral as Roquel. At the very least, I appreciate the fact that she helped me get a job. I really hope that asshole doesn’t break her heart. The Silverwood Police Department would likely love nothing more than to arrest me for shattering his kneecaps with a baseball bat.
Mads sighs. “There she goes,” she murmurs. “We probably won’t see her again for the rest of the night.”
“Why did you bother to come if you knew she would act like this?” I ask, curiously.
She shrugs again. “I hate being left alone,” she answers quietly. “When you’re alone, especially when you’re surrounded by people, you just start to think about all of the ways you’re inadequate. I didn’t want you to feel like that.”
I stiffen at the insinuation. “I’m fine being left alone,” I say sharply. “In fact, I prefer it.” Jabbing the toe of my Converse into the dirt under my feet, I frown. “I didn’t want to come to this stupid fucking party and if I’d known Roquel would just abandon me the second I got here, I’d have resisted a bit more.”
Mads eyes me. “You came because you felt like you owed her.” She shrugs. “I’m the same. She’s a bit flighty, but she’s a good person.”
I don’t know what makes a good person anymore, but I certainly know that I’m not. I turn away.
“Are you going to leave?” Mads calls after me.
Pausing, I pivot back to face her and catch sight of the worry on her smooth face. She bites down on her lower lip as her eyes dart from me to the top of the hill and back again.
“I can’t even if I wanted to,” I remind her as I gesture around us and then up the hill. “Roquel’s my ride too, and she still has her keys. I doubt we can get a rideshare this far out here.” Not that I could afford to waste the money on one right now, but I don’t say as much.
My words seem to comfort her as the tightness in her face eases a bit. Mads’ shoulders slowly lower back down.
“Why don’t I go grab her keys?” she offers, taking a step back. “It’s probably better for one of us to hold on to them anyway. I can grab us some drinks too—soda, of course.”
“You don’t have to stay sober,” I remind her. “I said I’d drive us back.”
Even as I’m speaking, Mads shakes her head. “Nah, it’s no fun being the only sober one in a group of drunk people.” She hops back and grins at me. “Soda is good with me—better even. My parents won’t be able to say I was out drinking if they test me.”
“Test you?” My brow creases as Mads freezes where she stands, half-turned to race up the hill toward the crowd gathered around the bonfire. It’s clear from the look of shock on her face that she hadn’t meant to admit that much.
Sympathy unfurls in my chest, an old emotion I hadn’t expected to feel again after everything that’s happened. Somehow, though, Mads brings it all back. Drawing in a breath, I let the question go and don’t press her to answer it. Instead, I glance up towards the farmhouse and the laughing Silverwood Public kids drinking and dancing to someone’s old radio with shitty and static-filled music.
“Actually, do you mind if I stay down here?” I ask. “I’d rather avoid those crowds and just…” I don’t know how to end my request, the sentence trailing off awkwardly. Like me, she’s wearing longer pants and sleeves. Even if we’re far from the bonfires, we won’t freeze, so I hope she says yes.
Mads’ expression shifts into one of relief and then amusement. “Sure,” she agrees easily enough. “I’ll go grab Roquel’s keys and some sodas. We can hang out by the cars and chat until she’s ready to go.”
I nod, thankful, and then stand there, watching, as she makes her way up the hill. A feminine shriek that sounds too much like one of the girls from the parties I used to frequent—a sound that’s faked outrage—echoes down towards me. A girl is lifted into a big guy’s arms and he jostles her up and down as if he’s lifting weights, her tiny skirt flying in all directions and revealing that if she’s wearing anything underneath it’s not covering much.
My gaze switches back to Mads as she slips between the other students as easily as breathing. She disappears into the masses and no one even seems to notice. Interesting. Where I’m a pariah and Roquel is a partier, Madison Torres is like a ghost. An obviously lonely one if she thinks being my friend will do her any good.
I pivot back towards the Camry, intent on hunting through Roquel’s backseat for a blanket, when the sight of two broad-shouldered guys with a girl between them catches my attention. The three of them form a pattern of swaying shadows as the guys urge the long-haired girl between them towards the treeline, each of them reaching for her arms.
The girl stumbles and giggles lamely, her hair flipping over her shoulder as she glances back and up at them. A familiar look of unease crosses her face but then she gags and cups a hand over her mouth as her features morph into one of panic and disgust.
“I’m gonna puke!” she warns them just before she stumbles and races between the trees.
Let it go , I order myself. It’s none of your business, Jules . I grit my teeth and drag my eyes back to the Camry just a few short feet away. When I turn back, though, the guys are following her into the darkness.
Ice floods my veins as one of them, the shorter of the two with an uneven jaw and a tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt, looks over his shoulder and up towards the hill. It’s not the look of someone wanting help, but the careful observation of a predator making sure no one is watching.
Fuck. I close my eyes and once again, try to remind myself that whatever happens between the three of them is none of my business.
Somehow, though, my feet don’t get the memo because when I next open my eyes, I’m already moving away from the Camry, back up the hill, and towards the treeline to the place where they all disappeared.