I Wish You All the Best(42)

When she’s done, there are five pairs for me to try on. “I don’t know about this, Hannah.” She shoves the pile into my hands and pushes me toward the bathroom.

“Come on, can’t be any worse than what you’ve got on.”

I would argue, but I have a sinking suspicion she’s right. I go for the black pair first, since those seem the nicest and most “party appropriate.” I try not to think about the fact that I’m nearly the same size as my sister, or that her old jeans apparently fit me really well, even if I do feel them sliding off my hips a bit. I eye myself in the mirror, focusing on the way they hug my legs. I turn, trying to see how the back fits me.

“Hannah?” I call for her.

She opens the door slowly, her eyes covered. “You’re not naked, right?”

“Right.”

Her mouth drops open. “Holy shit, Ben, you’ve got an ass. When did that happen?”

I turn to try and look in the mirror but can’t get the angle quite right. Never thought my sister would be telling me I have a nice butt.

“Seriously, man—” Her face goes cold. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

I stare at her. At least she knows she’s wrong, right? “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.”

I shrug. Now isn’t the moment to get angry with her. “Do you think these look good?”

“Yeah, with the shirt too, it’s nice. Just make sure your phone fits in. I can’t remember if that’s the pair with the fake pockets or not.” She bends over and picks up the folded stack of her other pairs. “See the wonders a decent pair of pants can do?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. And, Ben, I’m begging you not to drink tonight, okay? The medication is new and I don’t want you to take any risks.”

“I promise.” I wasn’t planning on drinking anyway. I’d read over the tiny orange bottle probably a hundred times, googling what different things meant. According to most sources it isn’t the end of the world to have a beer with the kind of dosage I’m on, but still, I’d rather not risk it.

Especially if it could make me feel worse than I already do.

“Good, I just want you to be safe.”

I nodded. “We will.”

“Okay.” She pulls me into a hug, which seems like a weird move, and it’s awkward with the pile of clothes between us, but I hug her back as best I can. “Now go have fun. And use a condom,” she teases.

“That’s really gross.”

She ruffles a hand through my hair. “Whatever, kid.”

I walk back to my room to make sure I have my wallet and my phone. By the time I make it out the front door, Nathan is already waiting for me in the driveway, right there in his shiny car.

“Damn, boy.” He rolls down the driver-side window.

I want to shrink. “Do I look okay?”

“Yeah! Kind of hot if I’m not lying. Girls will be all over you tonight.” He winks at me, and I resist the part of my brain telling me to run back inside and shut myself in my room for the rest of the night. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” I climb into the passenger seat and try not to imagine the worst.



Nathan drives the car down this really long dirt path, hitting nearly every pothole along the way. “You know you’re supposed to avoid those, right?” I ask after he hits another one. We’ve been driving for so long that I think we’re both convinced Sophie texted Nathan the wrong address.

“You didn’t see any turns or anything, did you?” Nathan asks, ignoring my commentary.

“I don’t remember one,” I say.

Nathan pulls out his phone just before I see some lights in the distance. “I’m gonna call Mel.”

“Wait. Maybe there?”

“Worth a shot.” Nathan keeps driving. The path curves before finally opening up. The yard is already filled with cars, lights glowing through the windows of the first floor of the house.

“This looks like the place where a group of teenagers gets murdered,” I say, eyeing it through the windshield. Nathan snorts as he pulls into the end of a long row of cars. “Half an hour?” I look at him.

Even from here I can see the crowds gathering on the front porch. People already look drunk off their asses, and it’s barely eight thirty.

“Half an hour.” Nathan glances at the clock on the dashboard. “Nine o’clock, and if you’re having a bad time, we can leave.”

“Okay.” I nod.

And he grins from ear to ear.

“Nathan!” Meleika shouts from across the yard. She sprints toward us, something vaguely bottle-shaped tucked under her arms. “Y’all made it.”

“Yes, my dear.” Nathan chuckles. “We were worried too. Thought maybe we missed a turn or something.”

“Yeah, this place screams murder house,” she replies.

“That’s what Ben said.” Nathan looks at me over his shoulder, still smiling.

I follow them both closely, climbing the front steps of the house with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, which isn’t saying a lot. I can already feel my stomach twisting with the beat of the bass, the floors vibrating so hard I’m shocked the pictures on the walls aren’t falling off.