She Drives Me Crazy(35)

10


The night is quiet and bare: a vacuum of sound. It must be chilly, but I don’t notice it, either because I’ve been drinking or because my blood is boiling, or maybe both. I hold Irene’s hand until we make it past Charlotte’s front walk. She stops cold and pulls her hand away.

We square off, facing each other. Her chest is heaving; her eyes are daggers.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

She glances away. “Like I said.” Her voice is eerily calm. “You’re arrogant to think you understand my enemies better than I do.”

I swallow. “You’re right.”

Danielle and Honey-Belle catch up to us at the car. Honey-Belle falls all over Irene, petting her hair and asking if she’s okay.

“I’m fine,” Irene says flatly, holding Honey-Belle at arm’s length. “Please stop smothering me.”

“Charlotte Pascal is trash,” Danielle says. Her eyes take on that destructive look she gets on the basketball court, but she looks unexpectedly at Irene. “You’d better be sincere about being gay, though. You can’t fake liking girls for votes.”

“Of course she’s sincere,” Honey-Belle snaps. “You don’t know the process she’s gone through—you can’t imagine the internalized homophobia—”

“My best friend is gay, too, Honey-Belle,” Danielle says loudly. “So you’ll understand if I want to make sure she’s not being led along by this whole thing.”

Irene snorts derisively. She falls back against the car, shaking her head. “‘Led along.’ That’s an interesting way to put it.”

“What does that mean?” Honey-Belle asks.

Irene and I lock eyes. I prepare for her to throw this whole arrangement away, and in that moment, I almost want her to. This scheme has caused more trouble than it’s worth. For both of us.

But as usual, she surprises me.

“Nothing.” She sniffs. “Let’s just get out of here. I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of acting.”

Honey-Belle nods sympathetically. Danielle sets her mouth, but she glances toward me, deferring.

“Okay,” I say, trying to anchor myself. “Let’s go. But someone else needs to drive.”

“I can,” Honey-Belle says. “I didn’t drink anything.”

I nod, hand her my keys, and slink into the back seat. When Danielle slides in next to me, I meet her eyes sheepishly. “Did you tell the boys we won’t be back?”

“Yeah,” she says shortly. She was getting such good quality time with Kevin, but she gave it up to check on my fake girlfriend and me. Not for the first time, I feel unworthy of her friendship.

Irene tucks herself into the passenger seat in front of me. I watch her expression in the side mirror as we pull away from the curb. She looks utterly defeated. I know it’s not directly because of me, but I still feel the weight of it.

It wasn’t your fault, Mom said the day of the accident, but it’s still your responsibility.

I speak before I can think twice about it.

“Maybe we should keep hanging out, just the four of us.”

Danielle stares at me like I’m malfunctioning. Irene maintains her stony silence. But Honey-Belle, God bless her, gasps with delight.

“I love that idea! Like a girls’ sleepover?” She gasps again. “We could have a self-care night in my Jacuzzi!”

Danielle’s interest piques. “Wait, hold on. You have a Jacuzzi?”

“Yeah, with seven types of bubbles and color-changing lights!”

Danielle bites her lip. She’s always loved Jacuzzis. I catch her eye, and she sighs in resignation. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Great!” Honey-Belle trills.

“Irene?” I ask hopefully.

Irene clears her throat and shifts in her seat. “Fine.”

Honey-Belle cheers and spins the car in the other direction.



* * *



The Hewett house is very much what you would expect of the Grandma Earl Christmas Emporium heirs. It’s like a gingerbread house come to life, with swirls of color and light. I can hear the thrill in Mrs. Zander’s voice when Danielle calls to say we’ll be staying here tonight.

“Is it true they have a hidden library?” Mrs. Zander asks. Danielle hastens to click the volume down on her phone, but we can still hear her mom’s excited voice. “Teddy wants to know if they really have a ball pit in the basement!”

“We do!” Honey-Belle beams. “Your brother can play here anytime!”

Danielle blushes and hastily tells her mom goodnight.

After that, it’s a matter of figuring out swimwear for the Jacuzzi. Irene has her own bathing suit she keeps at the Hewetts’ house—it’s as red as the devil, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest—and Honey-Belle has a flowery bikini she’s outgrown that fits Danielle’s petite frame well enough.

But as for me?

“How about this top, Scottie?” Honey-Belle asks, handing me a flaming orange racerback that clashes horribly with my hair. It looks too big for me, but maybe the racerback will keep it in place. I pull it on and turn around to show the others.

“You look like a carrot,” Irene says, snorting. Her hands are at her hips, her bare stomach shining in the lamplight. I catch myself staring and turn toward Danielle instead.