Chapter 10
Then
nicky
Nicky opened his bedroom window so his mother wouldn’t smell the weed, and propped his phone on his pillow next to him on the bed so he could see Maggie’s face properly. ‘You gotta come, babe,’ he said. ‘I’m not going if you’re not gonna be there.’
‘But it’s a family thing,’ Maggie said.
‘C’mon. You’re basically family.’
‘Ewww,’ Maggie said, pulling a face. ‘Now you’ve made it weird.’
Nicky rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, still studded with glow-in-the-dark stickers from his star-gazing phase when he was, like, nine. ‘Finn’s gonna be there,’ he said. ‘So Mom won’t even notice if I go or not.’
‘That’s not true,’ Maggie said, too quickly.
Nicky loved Finn like a brother, but he kinda hated him at the same time.
His cousin was a jacked, photoshopped version of himself: better skin, better hair, squarer jaw, bigger pecs.
Nicky couldn’t give a shit about any of that, but when Finn was in the room, it was like his mom didn’t even see him.
He and Finn had been born just six days apart – his mom had a shit-ton of photos taken side by side with Aunt Iris, the two of them showing off their baby bumps.
But after his aunt had had Finn, she’d got postpartum depression.
Like, real postpartum depression, the kind of crazy shit that made women drown their babies or stick them in the microwave.
Finn’s dad had been some married loser who’d skipped town before he was born – his sister Rose came along after Aunt Iris married Uncle Jesse – so Nicky’s mom had taken Finn in while Aunt Iris had gone away to some sort of nuthouse to get better.
She’d raised the boys together basically like twins for more than a year, and Nicky didn’t think she’d ever really got over having to give Finn back.
It would’ve been easier if his cousin had been a dick so Nicky could’ve straightforward hated him, but Finn was chill: smart enough not to need to make other people look small so he could feel big.
Sure, he was a bit of a jock, like his stepdad, Uncle Jesse – hockey, football, star of the school swim team – but he didn’t take himself too seriously.
His grades were good but not in-your-face, Ivy League stellar, though he’d got a pretty sweet scholarship to U Pitt next fall, his ticket out of Stowefuckbury.
If Finn hadn’t been Finn, that would’ve been enough to make Nicky want to punch his lights out right there.
But he loved his cousin. Everyone did. It was impossible not to.
He was basically every parent’s dream kid.
Whereas Nicky was basically . . . basic.
‘Of course your mom wants you to be at her party,’ Maggie said now. ‘It’s her birthday. She’ll be super upset if you’re not there.’ She tugged the scrunchie off her wrist, and scooped her long black hair – her best feature – into a neat ponytail. ‘You know I’ll come, if it’s OK with your mom.’
Nicky knew how much Maggie hated parties. He suddenly felt bad for asking her to come, especially when Finn’s girlfriend, Ashley, the original Mean Girl, would be there.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘you don’t have to—’
‘I want to.’
Maggie was ordinary, like him. She didn’t like being the centre of attention; most of the time she dressed super low-key, in grey track pants and sweatshirts, no make-up. Nicky didn’t mind that; in fact, he loved that she was real and unfiltered and genuine, unlike some girls he could mention.
She was also crazy beautiful, even if no one but him could seem to see it. And when Maggie smiled – man, when she smiled, she lit up a room.
‘I’mma get going,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I gotta meet someone.’
‘Where’re you off to?’
‘Just out,’ Nicky said vaguely.
Maggie put her middle and forefingers together in the shape of a heart. ‘OK. Later.’
Nicky let out a long exhale as he ended the call.
He felt kinda bad lying to her about the party at Raylan’s place tonight.
Maggie liked Raylan, but she wasn’t too keen on the stoner crowd he hung with, and Nicky didn’t want to upset her.
She’d never snitch, but he couldn’t chance her letting something slip to her mom by mistake; Kate had a mouth on her like the Grand Canyon, especially when it came to gossiping with his mom.
After the stunt Raylan had pulled on the roof, Mom would freak if she knew Nicky was going to one of his parties.
Kate’d be on to her in a minute and the last thing he needed right now was his parents getting up in his mix.
It was bad enough being the kid of a teacher, but having his mom crawl out on the roof like some kind of superhero was beyond cringe.
His dad said he should be proud of her, but it was like his parents had forgotten what a snake pit high school could be.
It was going to take him forever to live down what his mom had done.
‘I’m just going over to Maggie’s,’ he called out, running downstairs and jumping the last three steps in one bound. ‘Don’t wait up.’
‘Text me and let me know you get there safely,’ his mother shouted from the den.
As if.
The party was at a cabin Raylan’s parents rented out to fancy-ass East Coast skiers in the winter. It would’ve taken Nicky thirty minutes to drive there by road on a busy Saturday night, but if he cut across the ridge on his mountain bike he could be there in less than ten.
He zipped up his hoodie; it might be the beginning of June, but up here on the ridge, the temperature still dropped close to zero some nights. Near the top of the mountain, there were even patches of snow.
He was soon sweating with effort, standing on the pedals to get traction on the steep mountain trail.
It was pitch-black in the darkness below the tree canopy; the moonlight couldn’t penetrate here, and gnarled roots snaked across the path like tripwires.
But Nicky knew these woods; he’d grown up with the mountain as his backyard.
Panting, he soon reached the crest of the ridge, and then ducked his head low over the handlebars to avoid branches as he hurtled down the trail to the cabin.
As he got close, he could hear the sound of voices and laughter over the thump of Tupac’s “Hit ’Em Up”.
Car headlights flickered through the trees as more people arrived.
Nicky hoped Raylan’s dealer buddy, FedEx – when it absolutely, positively has to be there on time – was already there.
He could really use a bump right now. The weed wasn’t cutting it.
He needed something stronger to help him get through everything that was going on at school.
He swerved to avoid a muddy, rutted section of track, and then suddenly he hit something – a rock, a root – and next thing he knew, he was pitching forward over the handlebars.
It took him a few minutes to right-size things again.
His ears were ringing, and the metallic taste in his mouth told him his lip was bleeding.
He pushed himself up on his elbows, the wind knocked out of him, and examined his bike.
It was fucked; the front wheel was crumpled like tinfoil.
Shit. He was gonna have to walk home tonight.
He got to his feet, wincing.
Only then did he realise he wasn’t alone.
There was a figure hidden in the trees, perhaps twenty feet up the steep slope from the bike trail, shadowed by the dense pines. Whoever it was had their back towards him, bent low over something – someone – on the ground.
The someone wasn’t moving.