They Wish They Were Us(47)
He’s right. Everyone at Gold Coast knows. They’re in on it, but they just let it lie. It’s kids being kids. They’re just blowing off steam. The hands-off approach to our social lives kicked into overdrive sophomore year, when our grades were steady, a miracle after what had happened.
By the time midnight rolls around, I am ready for this whole night to be over. My head is pounding from a few too many Jell-O shots, taken at the Mussel Bay tollbooth while we watched Jordana Washington pierce Raquel Garza’s soft, fleshy earlobe. Raquel bit down on an orange and winced while the rest of her team howled in delight, checking off one more item on their list.
Nikki’s all in on her Toastmaster role, clutching her phone and waiting for updates to come in from Marla and Robert, who volunteered to lead two of the teams. “They’re not fucking responding,” she says as we barrel back toward her house. “They know they’re supposed to check in with me every thirty minutes. This is ridiculous.” Nikki crosses her arms and grabs at the bottle of vodka between her feet on the floor of the car.
“Chill, Nikki,” I say softly, rubbing my temples where a sugary headache has taken hold.
“I don’t need to hear that from you,” she says, her tongue a whip.
Henry and Quentin exchange a look in the front seat but stay silent. I fight back tears and clench my fists together, trying to remind myself that she’s just stressed. She just wants this night to be fun.
But when everyone arrives back at her house and the designated drivers hand their sheets to Quentin, I feel relieved, grateful Road Rally is almost over. The teams stand huddled together in little clusters. It’s easy to spot the new friendships, little tethers extended between juniors and freshmen. These stories will become inside jokes months down the road, legendary in a few short years.
“Hey,” Jared says, out of breath. He knocks his shoulder into mine and when I look at his face, hovering a few inches above me, I see his eyes are dilated, his face flushed. “Wild, huh?” he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows.
He looks strange and off-kilter. “You okay?” I whisper, my breath an icy cloud. But he’s already on his way back to his team, trotting like a wild horse left unbridled.
“Judges, assemble!” Nikki calls. I roll my eyes and drag my feet to where she stands with Quentin and Henry.
Henry swipes through the photos on Marla’s phone first, pointing out flashes of naked butts and beer cans, someone drenched in mustard, until he pauses on one image. Henry’s mouth falls open and he nudges me. “Uh, Jill . . .”
“What?” My head pounds harder than it did before, and the little area of skin above my eye begins to ache. He hands me Marla’s phone. A blur of flesh and platinum hair appears. A boy and a girl, with just a few bits of fabric in between. The photo was taken on the sand, which makes it hard to discern where the beach begins and the boy ends. The two are lip-locked, mid-passion, but there’s no mistaking who’s in the photo. Jared and Marla.
A flush creeps up my chest. My hands start shaking and I close my eyes but all I can see are naked bodies rolling around in the sand.
I swipe to see the next photo and find the tiny freshman Sierra McKinley in only a bikini, her eyes wide with fear. She’s standing in front of the ShopRite alone. I swipe again to find another girl, one I can’t make out, leaning down, meeting Sierra’s lips in an open-mouthed mess. The girl, some sophomore, I think, looks wasted, her hair stringy, her bikini bottoms sagging. But it’s Sierra’s face I fixate on. Her eyes are open, her fear obvious. She didn’t want this, not in front of everyone, not for their amusement. Her gaze is fixed on someone off to the side, hoping for an acknowledgment. I zoom in on the corner of the screen, trying to discern who she’s looking to for help. Jared’s face is instantly recognizable. I expect him to look uncomfortable, to at least avert his eyes. To stop Sierra’s humiliation.
But instead, he’s laughing, cackling, even, and throwing up a hand to high-five someone else. He doesn’t look like my sweet, kind baby brother. He looks like someone else entirely. He looks like a Player. I scan the circle for Jared. But he’s not there. Instead I find the easier target.
“What the hell?” I nearly scream, charging at Marla. All motion around us stops.
“What’s your problem, Jill?” she says, crossing her arms.
“My problem?” I scoff. “You hooked up with my brother! You can’t do that!”
She laughs. “Are you serious, Jill? It’s Road Rally. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Marla, he’s my brother.” I spit the word out like it’s poison. My head feels like it’s about to spin off my neck. A circle has formed around us. We have an audience.
“What is your deal?” Nikki screams. She’s come around to Marla’s side so they stand in front of me like a wall. “It’s a joke. It’s not like she forced him. Right, Jared?”
The Players turn and face my little brother. There he is, standing at the back of the circle, leaning against the house, next to Nikki’s side door. And for the first time I see him for what he is becoming, just like all the others. He is tall, broad-shouldered, and flushed, awakened to what he’s been missing. He aches to expend all that pent-up, furious energy, just like the rest of us. But why does it have to be like this?
Jared smirks. I wonder if this is when he decides that maybe his big sister Jill Newman isn’t so great after all. That he doesn’t need to keep up with me or play by my same rules. He can create his own without worrying about the consequences. “Yeah,” he says. “Just having fun.”