Chapter Thirty-One
‘How the hell?’ Elliott mutters under his breath, but I rush back into the kitchen before I can hear the rest. My body feels so light, I have to clutch the sides of the counter to stop my knees from buckling.
Avery is in the living room. Avery, in the champagne dress I have spent way too many nights imagining running my hands along.
We haven’t talked since the promposal. What is she even doing here, among the garbage peasants who are only good enough to kiss her collarbone in the darkness of a janitor’s closet?
My hands grope around my backpack’s front pocket.
It’s like muscle memory, needing to touch that last physical thing that connects me and Avery, that tiny slice of proof that there ever even was a me and Avery.
Her hairclip. It’s still here. My fingers close on the pearls, the puffy glue bubbling up around the edges.
Touching it brings a rush of memories, my mouth on Avery’s, her laugh against my skin as her lips pressed into the knobs of my spine.
But they’re not just warm memories, not any more.
Now, there’s a ring of anger along the outline, staining the image of Avery a sickly green.
‘Okay, let’s do this thing.’ Elliott bumps me with his hip, a red cup in either hand. He added the gin while I was melting down over Avery. If he’s noticed the state I’m in, he doesn’t say.
His head turns at the sound of new voices in the kitchen, but I don’t even have to look to know one of them belongs to Cassidy. She bustles into the room and throws a tote bag down on the counter beside me.
‘Rocco, which one do you want?’ she asks.
Rocco. Of course Cassidy’s weird old boyfriend is named Rocco.
From her tote, Cassidy pulls out handle after handle of liquor, as though the small square of canvas is actually some magical Mary Poppins bag.
Rocco, wearing a white tux and smelling so strongly of whiskey, I can’t tell if he’s drunk or just uses the stuff as cologne, reaches for the bottle of Jack Daniels Cassidy has produced and shouts to no one, ‘I’ve got next game on FIFA! ’
As though every inch of my skin is attuned to hers, without turning around I can feel the moment Avery enters the kitchen, the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight. She doesn’t even have to say anything. I know she’s staring at me, her eyes like twin nails puncturing the back of my skull.
‘Indie?’ Elliott says.
The sound of his voice startles me back into my body, where I realise I’m clutching Avery’s hairclip so tight, my knuckles have gone yellow-white. I drop it back in my backpack and clear my throat.
‘You – you go ahead,’ I say. ‘I’ll bring these ones out in a second.’
He fixes me with a look, a small line forming between his brows.
‘Okay, cool,’ he says eventually.
Elliott shuffles out to the backyard without another word, leaving Cassidy buzzing around me in a mist of peach-flavoured vodka and oblivious chatter.
‘Indigo,’ Avery says from behind me. ‘Do you know where the bathroom is?’
My hands curl at the sound of my full name on her lips.
‘It’s …’ I start to say, but my voice comes out gravelly and rough. I cough into my fist. ‘It’s upstairs.’
‘Can you show me?’
Slowly, inch by tiny inch, I finally turn around.
Avery stands in the kitchen doorway, one hip leaning against the frame and her eyebrows raised in question.
She looks staggeringly beautiful, her dress hugging every single curve as though her body created the fabric itself, her mouth stained a deep burgundy-brown and her cheekbones dusted gold.
She looks so casual and cool, her head tilted slightly, as though this is her party and I’m the one out of place.
As though she didn’t make me cry in a walk-in freezer.
Our eyes locking is all the acknowledgement Avery needs. She turns on her strappy heel and walks in the direction of the staircase as though I actually agreed to follow her, because that’s what she’s used to.
Sighing, I trail her through the hallway and up the stairs.
The stairwell is lined with photos, one wall crammed with pictures of Laura and my mom over the years, Laura’s family, me and my mom.
On the other side are school pictures of Elliott.
At the foot of the stairs is his kindergarten photo, his hair short and spikey, his smile gap-toothed.
The pictures ascend in age as I make my way up to the second floor, until finally, just below the top step, is Elliott’s senior picture, a baby-blue tie cinched tightly around his neck.
Just off the staircase landing is the open door to Laura’s bedroom. Avery immediately slips inside. At the end of the hall sits the bathroom, the door wide open and the light still on.
‘Uh,’ I say, forking a thumb over my shoulder. ‘The bathroom’s right there.’
But Avery ignores me, instead wandering over to the nightstand on the other side of the room and flicking on a small lamp.
I step inside behind her. The room is simply furnished, with a neatly made double bed in a rich brown-red wooden frame, a matching dresser and dressing table, and a single nightstand.
A few long gold necklaces and a pair of jade earrings hang on the wiry jewellery stand that sits on top of the dresser, while a single frame containing a picture of Laura and a toddler Elliott decorates the nightstand.
‘This is Elliott’s mom’s room,’ I say dumbly, as though it isn’t obvious. But what I want to say is, We shouldn’t be here.
Avery peers at herself in the mirror on Laura’s dressing table.
‘God, this looks so stupid,’ she says, ripping the crown from her head and discarding it amidst a vintage-looking lipstick organiser.
‘Did you hear about Shane.’ From the way it comes out, it’s not actually a question.
‘He’ll be lucky if he gets to walk at graduation. ’
I stare at her, not sure what she wants me to say. Am I supposed to join her in making fun of the guy she deliberately picked over me?
‘What’re you even doing here?’ I say.
It comes out sharply, but Avery just shrugs. ‘Shane’s friends with half the soccer team, so they invited him.’ Her eyes flit to mine as she ambles back over to me. ‘This was before he puked all over Mrs Banks’s shoes.’
Of course. She’s only here to follow Shane, even when he’s not around to follow. She probably only asked me upstairs because she wanted to see if I’d still come. And like a total moron, I did.
‘Cool, well, have fun,’ I say, turning.
Avery’s soft hand closes around my bicep, holding me in place. ‘Can you stop avoiding me for like, two minutes?’
Her nails rest against the surface of my skin, loose enough not to bite, but close enough so that it’s clear they could. I shake her off.
‘I’m not avoiding you,’ I say. ‘You can’t avoid someone you have nothing to say to.’
Even I can hear how thin my voice sounds, stretched against the lie. Avery gives a half smile.
‘Wow,’ she says. ‘Did you practise that in front of the mirror?’
Teasing like this used to give me a flush of want, but now, staring at Avery and how amused she is with herself, all I feel is annoyed.
‘There are people downstairs I actually want to hang out with,’ I say, stepping away again.
But her hand is back on my arm, tighter this time. ‘Can’t we just talk?’
Every cell in my brain is urging me to run, but the rest of my body is starved for the answers I’ve been missing, some explanation for why what Avery and I had, what I gave her, wasn’t good enough.
She takes my pause as a silent agreement not to flee and reaches one arm up over my shoulder.
I freeze, waiting for her hand to land on the side of my face, the back of my neck, but instead, she pushes the door shut behind me so it closes with a soft snick.
‘Unbelievable,’ I say quietly.
‘What?’ Avery says, close enough now that I can feel her breath on my face.
‘You’re still embarrassed to be seen with me,’ I say, throwing an arm towards the door. ‘To even talk to me.’
‘Oh, please,’ she says. ‘You were just as shady about hooking up with me.’
‘I asked you to prom,’ I fire back.
‘I know,’ Avery says, her voice suddenly dropping. ‘And I should’ve said yes.’
Outside, the stairs creak as someone makes their way to the second floor.
Avery and I both stand still, our eyes locked.
I grope around my brain for a reason as to why we’re in Laura’s room.
But whoever’s on the stairs moves quickly beyond the bedroom door towards the end of the hall.
At the faint sound of another door shutting, I let out a long breath.
‘Look,’ Avery says quietly. Her forehead is only a few inches from mine, her tongue poking through her full lips.
‘You’re right. Mostly. I wasn’t embarrassed, just …
scared. But I’m not any more. Prom with Shane was such a waste of time.
It made me realise that everything I was so worried about before – none of it actually matters.
You can do everything to make things look a certain way, and it still gets screwed up.
I’m sick of walking down the halls at school pretending like I don’t know you. ’
She tucks a chunk of my hair behind my ear, her fingers whisper-light. ‘I made a mistake, okay? I shouldn’t have gone to prom with Shane. I should’ve gone with you.’
There it is. All I’ve wanted to hear from her, spoken so plainly and softly, as though it were easy. But instead of filling me with triumph, or even a smug sense of satisfaction, I feel the same way I did when I watched the video of Shane’s promposal – hollow.
Avery’s attention is suddenly too much, our closeness suffocating. I turn away but she’s fast, her hand on my chin, pulling my face back towards her.
‘Did you hear me?’ she says, manoeuvring her head so I have no choice but to look at her. ‘It should’ve been you.’
Her mouth is on mine before I can answer.
Within an instant, she eases against me, the hand that was once on my chin now pressed to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.
It feels so familiar, her body slotted against mine.
My mind goes blurry around the edges, the desire to just submerge myself in the cloud of rose perfume wrapped around us almost too strong to resist.
‘I lied just now,’ Avery whispers against my lips. ‘I didn’t come here for Shane, I only came to see you.’
‘How did you know I’d be here?’ I say, my voice slurred from the combination of alcohol and Avery.
She chuckles. ‘You’re not as mysterious as you think, Indigo.’
Indigo.
The sound of my full name on her lips feels like a slap.
My mouth goes slack, but Avery doesn’t seem to notice as she takes my bottom lip between her teeth and gently bites down.
She knows me, that this is what usually reduces my insides to caramel.
But instead of my lower half flooding with warmth, a single image hits my brain, bright and electric: Max, biting his lip when he’s trying not to laugh as I fail to open another can of chickpeas at work.
It’s this that sets my heart pounding, my lungs collapsing like crumpled tinfoil.
Avery trails kisses down my neck, smiling when I swallow so hard, my throat makes a sound.
Nothing about being with Avery feels right, how it should.
Not comfortable, how it feels with Max. Not fluttery, how it feels with Max.
Not exciting or surprising or easy. I can’t believe I ever even considered doing this with Elliott.
Avery doesn’t want to be with me; she only doesn’t want to be with Shane, not after he yacked all over prom.
And I don’t even care because, for the first time, I don’t think I want to be with her either.
My head collides with the door as I step backwards, the sudden space like emerging on to a sunny street after spending an hour in the cold, dark fug of the Metro.
Avery’s eyes blink open, her mouth dropped in an O.
She stumbles backwards and lands on the bed with a thud, turning so her back is to me.
As I reach for the door handle behind me, Avery lets out a strangled cry and caves her body forward so her chest rests against the tops of her thighs, her shoulders shaking.
‘Are you …’ I start to say, then swallow. ‘Crying?’
I didn’t even know Avery could cry, much less that I could be the one to make her do it.
She keels forward, landing on the carpet and out of sight, hidden around the corner of the bed. The situation dawns on me all at once: she was in the same Twisted Tea-infested limo as Shane. Now she’s going to be the one to puke.
‘Oh my God,’ I say, scrambling to reach her and falling to my knees. ‘You can’t throw up in here. Laura will—’
But it’s not Avery that I find on the other side of the bed. Crouched down on all fours, skin a leathery grey-blue and with talons whose pointed ends look needle-fine and lethal, is a beast.