Trust(42)

“It’s like I told you, vodka helps with creativity. It unleashes the artist within.”

“Obviously.”

“My brother is not going to be happy that I stole that bottle out of his room. Though I really don’t drink that often. Still, we should hide the evidence and not tell him. And we should definitely not let my parents find out.” Her cell chimed again and she grabbed it off the bedside table. You had to admire the girl’s ability to multitask. Who knew how many different people she’d been carrying on text conversations with tonight? “Oh, that’s nice. Carrie and Sophia’s dinner with Sophia’s parents is going well.”

“That’s good.” I sighed. “Everyone should be happy and in love and shit.”

“Hmm. Either that, or drinking and sending boys imaginative and angry texts.”

“Yeah.”

A pounding noise came from the front door. We both sat up, startled, then we began laughing for some reason. I don’t know, it made sense at the time.

“My brother must have forgotten his key.” Hang climbed off the bed and I followed because curiosity, but also bathroom break time. Fortunately, we hadn’t changed out of whatever clothes we’d worn to school. No one would be meeting me in my pajamas, for a change.

The house was a long, low-set brick ranch, the walls covered in big, bright, beautiful canvases. All of the paintings done by Hang’s dad. If he’d been my parent and I’d been into art, I’d be intimidated too. He was good.

More pounding on the front door.

“Patience,” called out Hang, flipping the lock and swinging the door open.

“Ladies.” Anders filled the doorway, his smile wide. “You were wrong, JC. They’re not messily drunk at all.”

Something inside of me—my stomach, my pride, I don’t know—sank lower than the floor. I grabbed Hang’s arm, whispering, “You told them we were here?”

“Anders tricked me.”

I frowned. “How?”

“He asked me where I lived.”

“H-how is that a trick question?” I asked, bewildered.

Hang flailed.

The boy in question, however, chuckled his ass off. Jerk.

John pushed him aside, striding into the hallway. He was not happy. “Any particular reason you sent me the address for every STD clinic in the state?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “Well, you know, that’s actually really useful information for anyone to have.”

He remained unconvinced. “And you want my tiny, useless dick to shrivel and fall off why?”

“Man,” Anders laughed. “That one cracked me up. Though they were all pretty good.”

Hang grinned. “We did half each.”

“Nice work.” He held up his freakishly large hand and they high-fived. Awesome.

Meanwhile, a vaguely homicidal expression filled John’s eyes. “Edie?”

“Like you don’t know,” said Hang, all goodwill and joy now gone from her face. “Turncoat.”

John just looked at her, brows drawn tight.

“Erika,” she spat at him.

“Erika?” John turned to me. “What about her?”

I looked elsewhere. The floor, the walls—these were all super-interesting things greatly deserving of my immediate attention.

“Beside your locker this afternoon,” said Hang. “After all that shit she said to Edie. How could you?”

Anders whistled, leaning against the wall, getting comfortable.

“She was so upset, she ditched school for the first time ever,” Hang continued, standing tall. “Her education is ruined. Because of you.”

Smite me now please, baby Jesus.

John bent over, getting into my line of sight. “Edie, she came up to me and I told her to get lost. Is that what you need to know?”

“I . . . You did?” I asked. “But you let her grope you first?”

“Christ. I told her to get lost, okay? She just took a while to get the message.” He straightened, pulling the usual rubber band out of his pocket and tying back his hair. “Plenty of girls out there. Why would I mess around with one who insults my friends?”

I didn’t get to grope him, so why should she? Still, in the end he’d done the right thing. I sighed in relief, ignoring the quick jab of jealousy. “Oh.”

“Well, this is awkward,” whispered Hang.

John stood in front of me, waiting.

“Sorry,” I said, grimacing. “But you have to admit, it looked really bad.”

“We dating? We together or something and I didn’t notice?”

“What? No.”

“Well then?”

I frowned.

Arms crossed, he said nothing.

“Okay, so the insult texting . . . we got a bit carried away. I, um, I promise in the future I’ll only use your number for good instead of evil.”

“I’d appreciate it.” His eyes, they still weren’t happy. Couldn’t really blame him, either.

“Okay kids.” Anders clapped his hands together, rubbing them. “We’re here now. What entertainment can you offer?”

“Want to watch a movie?” asked Hang, closing the front door.