Chapter Seven
‘Peggy, you idiot, I swear to God …’ comes a voice from over the fence.
Avery’s arms are crossed. ‘She’s right here, Mrs Shriner,’ she calls flatly, her eyes never leaving mine.
Something brushes against my right foot. When I look down, the snake’s head is slipping over my loafer, dragging its thick body across the grass.
I curl my hands at my sides, biting down a shriek and trying my best to stay still lest I spook Peggy and she sinks her teeth into my foot. She doesn’t seem bothered, though; the snake flicks her tongue at the inch-high blades of grass, her head weaving from side to side.
The latch on the door leading to the alleyway rattles and the woman in the apron appears, a look of playful exasperation on her face.
‘You little jerk,’ she tuts as she leans over to scoop up the ginormous snake.
She guides her head down to roughly where Peggy’s middle is, then drapes the snake around her neck and struggles up to standing under the heavy weight.
Mrs Shriner turns to Avery and sighs. ‘Sorry about this, girls. Somebody,’ she gently jiggles the snake, ‘saw the bag of mice come out of the freezer and thought they’d break out for an early dinner. ’
Mrs Shriner leaves through the alleyway door. Only when she’s gone does Avery turn her attention to me.
‘And what, exactly, are you doing in my backyard?’ she says.
I gesture lamely to her house. ‘I knocked.’
‘And you thought when no one answered, you’d break in?’ Avery lifts a lock of wet hair and drops it back on to her bare collarbone with a slap. ‘I was in the shower,’ she says. ‘And you were …’
She lets the sentence fade, giving me space to fill in the blank, but my thoughts are like a whirlpool in my head.
Avery is still Avery. Standing here in front of me in shorts that are so small, they’re more like underwear.
But how is Avery still Avery? I know I should be relieved, and I am, but more than that, I’m confused.
Avery lifts an eyebrow, waiting. Suddenly everything I’ve been thinking about for the last few hours comes cascading to the front of my brain: the library, my mouth on her neck, the look she gave me before she left.
‘I wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me,’ I blurt. ‘After, you know … in the library.’
Her forehead scrunches. ‘What about it?’
‘When I … I …’ I swallow. I need something. Anything. ‘When I said I didn’t vote for you for prom queen nominations.’
Avery throws her head back and laughs. The sound is so much like glass breaking, I cringe.
‘Are you serious?’ she says, taking a step towards me.
‘Do I think you’re annoying? Yes.’ Another step.
Two. ‘Am I mad? No.’ She reaches for my hand, twines her fingers with mine.
She’s close enough now that I can feel the moisture from her hair, cool against my skin.
‘Aww, look at you, caring what I think.’
‘I – no, I don’t,’ I say, trying to scoff, but we both know I’m lying. I wouldn’t be here right now, breaking into her backyard and talking to a freaking snake, if I didn’t care.
But Avery’s still herself, which means I’m not in love with her.
Not yet. An unexpected flush of anger warms my hands as I ball my free one into a fist again.
Avery is right, and I hate it. I hate that I care about her more than I should, more than I swore I ever would.
I might not be in love with her, but I hate that I’ve come so close.
And that because of this stupid curse, doing so will never be the source of normal stuff, like happiness or joy or even excitement – but panic.
‘My dad took my sister to basketball and my mom’s still at work,’ Avery says, her mouth suddenly just millimetres from my neck. She plants a kiss above my collarbone, one hand reaching around to touch the small of my back. At the feel of her lips, my eyes squeeze shut. ‘You could come upstairs.’
I swallow so hard, my throat clicks. I know, in my bones, that this is the part where I run away.
Where I tell Avery that I don’t actually care about this, about her or whatever it is we’re doing.
That no matter how often I may think about the times I’ve put my palm on her chest and felt the way her heart flutters as I gently bite the skin of her hip, I am not in love with her.
Then I go to the cave and spend my night picking leaves out of Tyler’s fur, feeling strong and grateful that I’ve dodged this bullet, avoided catching feels before it’s too late.
No, I say in my head. I’m good.
‘Okay,’ I say out loud.