3. Saturday, September 2, 2023 #2
Once through the gate he texts his dad, went home, which feels weird because it doesn’t feel like home at all. It feels like someone else’s house surrounded by woods that creep even his dog out.
Polly
She watches Quinn escape through the gate and looks back at the group of kids he escaped from.
They don’t even notice his departure, but she’s not surprised.
He probably said something weird. Quinn’s too smart for his own good.
He uses words that most kids his age don’t understand, and his intelligence gives him an air of aloof superiority.
Basically, he comes off like an asshole.
He had a small group of friends from the old neighborhood, but only because they’d all been in school together since kindergarten.
A new school was going to be hell for him.
Normally, Lucy would step in and make it better for Quinn, smooth over his social awkwardness, but now Polly will have to figure out a different way to fix things.
Excusing herself from the girls who’ve already started to bore her, Polly saunters across the lawn to the group Quinn just left.
She knows the one kid is called Max. His sister was one of the girls who approached her earlier, pointing him out as an example of something they both had in common—annoying younger brothers.
“Hey,” she calls out when she’s only a few feet away. They all stop talking and give her their full attention. “I’m Polly. Quinn’s sister.” Some of them lift their hands in awkward waves and they all mumble some version of hello.
She points at the kid who looks just like his mother and sister—blond and generic.
“It’s Max, right?” He nods, looking skeptical, as if Polly’s there to mock him or do something his sister put her up to.
She smiles sweetly to disarm him. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” He looks shocked but quickly recovers with a nonchalant nod.
Taking the sleeve of his T-shirt, she gently pulls him away from the group. She’s learned that even the slightest bit of contact can go a long way. “I saw you talking to my brother, Quinn, earlier. I hope he didn’t say anything weird. He’s a bit nervous meeting new people.”
“Nahh, he’s cool.”
Polly knows for a fact that he’s lying. No one ever has called Quinn cool, which means her plan is already working. “That’s good,” she says, as if she believes him. “I just wanted to ask a favor of you.”
“Sure thing.” He flips the blond swoop of bangs out of his eyes.
“Maybe you can show Quinn around on the first day of school and hang out with him a bit?” He flinches a little, but she continues, “If you guys become friends, you and I might get to hang out too.”
His cheeks flush. “Ahh, sure, yeah.”
“Great.” She touches his arm briefly for good measure. “Thanks. You should come to our house for a swim sometime.” She knows she’s going overboard but wants to cement the deal for Quinn and thinks her in a bikini will do it.
“Come to the murder house?” he blurts, his eyes wide, the cool facade replaced with a look of terror. “No thanks.”
“What did you say?”
“That’s what everyone calls it.” Polly stares back at him. It’s worse than she thought. “But you could come here,” he quickly adds. “To my pool.”
She nods once and gives him a tight-lipped smile.
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Turning so quickly she flicks Max in the face with her hair, she heads for the gate.
On her way, she waves to the group of girls, who watch her leave, confusion about her sudden exit all over their tanned faces.
Fake faces. Acting like she didn’t just move into the murder house.
The shitty thing is, she actually likes the new house.
Her bedroom is outdated, but if she complains enough her mom will fix it up.
Having a pool is cool, and she can move into the cabin when her nana dies.
Win-win. She knows that of all of them, she needed the change the most. Her twin sister was everywhere in that house, and if they’d stayed there much longer, she would have gone fucking crazy.
She reaches their long, tree-lined driveway, deeply shadowed in the late-summer twilight, and is surprised that Quinn is nowhere in sight.
He must have booked it home. The woods push in on either side of the driveway and she notices how different the dark is here from the city.
It’s thicker, and the air is heavier, moister.
She can feel it settle on her skin. She can smell the earth, the grass, the trees.
Can almost hear how fast things are growing.
Suddenly, she’s really creeped out, and she’s not sure if it’s the murder-house thing or the fact that someone forgot to turn on the outdoor lights to guide her home.
Her phone flashlight does next to nothing, but at least she can illuminate the gravel at her feet to navigate the unfamiliar driveway, stumbling every now and then over small potholes.
She’s only halfway to the house when she hears a rustling in the bushes beside her. She freezes and holds her breath. A figure suddenly appears on the driveway in front of her and she screams and throws her phone at it.
“Fuck off, Polly!”
The familiar voice stops her mid-spin.
“What the fuck, Quinn?” She puts a hand over her thumping heart. “Why would you scare me like that?”
He holds her phone out to her. “Lucky I caught it. And for the record, an iPhone 14 is not a very effective weapon.”
She grabs the phone from him and cuffs the back of his head. “Next time I’ll have pepper spray, promise.”
“What are you doing here anyway? You’re normally the last one to leave a party.”
They start walking up the driveway together, and despite the scare, she’s glad for his company. “It was boring,” she says. “Everyone’s fake here in good old Merrymont.”
“Such a stupid name for a town,” Quinn says, full of his usual disdain. “Why the fuck did Mom move us here anyway?”
“She thought it was for the best. That we needed a change after everything that happened.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t. Couldn’t she at least have waited until I finished high school? She only cares about herself.”
“Mom’s a lot of things, like totally neurotic and annoying, but she’s not selfish. She really thinks she made the right decision for all of us. Maybe you wanted to stay, but I couldn’t.”
Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, and she knows it’s because he hates when she defends their mom. When they get to the house, the thought of them going off to their own rooms makes Polly feel unbearably lonely. “I’m going to smoke a joint on the back deck. Do you want to keep me company?”
Quinn scrunches up his face in surprise. Then he scratches his head, something he always does when he’s thinking, like some cartoon character. “Only if I can smoke too.” His response shocks her. She never thought of him as the pot-smoking type.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Quinn. You’re only fifteen and Mom would kill me.”
Quinn puts out a hand to stop her. “You sound like Lucy right now,” he says, as if it’s some kind of insult.
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I didn’t mean it that way. She was protective, and that was nice and all, but I thought you were cooler than that. Like you’d get it that I want to try it. Wouldn’t it be better to do it first with you rather than alone or with some kids I don’t really know?”
Polly lets out a deep sigh. She hates being put in this position, but she’s the one who brought it up, and he’s not wrong. It’s safer to try it with her than anyone else. “Okay, fine, but if Mom finds out we’ll both be in major shit.”
“Good.” He bobs in place like a goofy kid. Like he’s trying not to pee his pants.
“All right then,” she says, pulling the joint and a lighter from the pocket of her jean shorts. “Let’s hope it mellows you out for both our sakes.”
They go around to the back of the house to sit on the deck. She sparks up and inhales slowly and gently. Passing the lit joint to her brother, Polly hears her dead sister’s voice in her head: And the Big Sister of the Year Award goes to… What are you going to introduce him to next? Acid?
Polly hums to drown out the voice in her head, ignoring the look Quinn gives her.
She and her sister were identical in looks but not in behavior.
Lucy was the athletic one, the smart one, the good one.
She smoked weed occasionally and drank at parties, but she never got out of control.
Polly was the wild one, getting in trouble at school and at home, famous for her bad decisions.
She was the one who took things too far, puked at parties, did whatever drugs were on offer, woke up in strange beds.
Their parents had abandoned any expectations of Polly long ago and mostly tried to manage her self-made crises.
Getting Quinn high for the first time was very much in keeping with her brand.
Quinn barely inhales and then coughs all the smoke back out. She laughs and gently takes the joint from him. “Like this,” she says, taking a long, smooth inhale and holding it in her lungs before exhaling.
“Why don’t you just get a pen like a normal person?” he asks, taking back the joint.
“I have one, but I prefer joints. I’m old-school. Now, try again.” Quinn mimics her and is able to hold in the smoke a few seconds before coughing. “That’s better,” she says encouragingly.
They pass it back and forth in silence for a little while, Quinn getting better as he goes. Polly glances over at him at one point and he’s leaning back in the deck chair, his arms loose at his sides, looking up at the stars in the sky. He looks truly relaxed for the first time in his life.
He’s probably going to be an addict now, she hears her sister say.