She Drives Me Crazy(8)

“We’re sorry we couldn’t be at the demo game,” Dad says, ruffling my hair. “We know it’s been a tough semester. It hasn’t been easy for you without Tally.”

“Losing your first love is excruciating,” Mom adds sympathetically.

I’m not sure my parents ever liked Tally. They were sure to smile and hug her whenever she came over, but I always got the vibe that they were doing it for my sake rather than because they actually liked her.

“I promise it’s going to get better,” Mom coos. “But that doesn’t mean you can lose sight of everything else going on in your life. You’ve got your whole senior year ahead of you, with basketball and college applications and your wonderful friends—”

“I know, I know.” Tears spring into my eyes. I try to swallow them down, but they drop onto my chicken. “I really am sorry about the car, you guys.”

“Okay,” Mom says quietly. “We’ll let it go for tonight. Go upstairs and watch a movie. Daphne will take care of the dishes.”

Doing the dishes alone is a pain—we usually split the cleanup—but the wonderful thing about Daphne is that she would never argue in a million years. She nods and clears everyone’s plates, tossing me a small smile, and I take the stairs to my room without looking back.



* * *



I’m notorious for taking the longest showers in the family, but tonight is really something else. For a while I just stand there under the water, my aching muscles grateful for the heat. I wash my hair, loofah with Daphne’s vanilla sugar body wash, and scrub my face after a good long cry.

Normally I would blow-dry and straighten my hair so it looks good for school tomorrow, but tonight I don’t have the energy. I wrap a towel around my wet hair, change into my favorite long-sleeve tee and joggers, click on the string lights Thora got me last Christmas, and curl up in my bed. For the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.

Mom was right to tell me to watch a movie. Aside from playing basketball, watching movies is my favorite thing to do. Tonight I queue up 10 Things I Hate About You, the king of teen rom-coms. I can recite parts of it in my sleep.

A few minutes into the movie, Thora barges in. She’s still in her bartending outfit, and her keys are in her hand, which tells me she literally just got home. She drops onto my bed, squeezes me tight, and fusses like I’m a poor kitten she’s come across in the road. Daphne scurries in behind her, crawling up on my other side.

“Who hurt you?” Thora asks, still squeezing me. “Who do I have to kill?”

“Nobody.” I laugh. “I’m fine. How was work?”

“The opposite of stimulating,” Thora says, picking at the pink tips of her hair. “Seriously, how are you feeling?”

“It was a shitty day,” I admit. “We played Candlehawk in a demo game. They clobbered us. Then my car got clobbered.”

Thora winces. “Candlehawk means Tally, huh?”

“Yeah. Their new star player. She gave me my button back.”

My sisters trade a loaded look.

“What?” I ask, even though I know what they’re going to say.

“She sucks,” Thora says, rolling onto her back. “Like, really, really sucks.”

“She didn’t always suck. Not until she transferred to Candlehawk.”

“I think she sucked before that,” Daphne says. “Remember when she got mad at you for posting that pic where her hair was frizzy?”

“Remember when she didn’t speak to you for a whole day because you refused to sneak into that concert with her?” Thora adds.

Here’s the thing: I know Tally was tough sometimes, but it makes me uncomfortable to hear it from other people. It makes me question my judgment, because for a while there, I was so happy with her. Was I just oblivious? Or, worse, did I convince myself she cared about me when she really didn’t?

“I know, I know,” I say, dragging my hands down my face. “I promise she wasn’t always that bad.”

There’s a pause where my sisters are clearly holding back their words, until Daphne says, “Well, I think she’s an eff-head.”

Thora busts out laughing, and I can’t help but smile a little.

“Daph, you’re a national treasure, you know that?” Thora says. Daphne beams.

“Can we watch the movie now?” I ask.

“Sure,” my sisters say, and they snuggle up on either side of me.



* * *



Maybe an hour into the movie, my phone rings with a local number I don’t recognize. I reject the call, assuming it’s a telemarketer.

A moment later, it rings again.

“Scottieee,” Thora whines.

“Sorry!” I fumble for the phone and answer it impatiently. “Hello?”

“Scottie?” a brittle voice asks. “It’s Irene.”

What the fuck.

I sit bolt upright, scrambling to pause the movie. My sisters stare at me, but I wave my hands for them to be quiet. Why the hell is this girl calling me? How did she even get my number?

“Hey,” I say into the phone, trying to sound casual. I switch on the lamp and swing my legs off the bed. “I didn’t expect you to call—”

“Didn’t you, though?” she asks brusquely. “We have to plan for tomorrow. You know, since I have to carpool with you.”