Be the Girl(68)

“You have your phone?” My mom hands me my jacket.

“Of course.”

“Okay. Have fun. Remember, twelve o’clock or you’re a pumpkin.” It was easier to get her to agree to a later curfew than I’d expected.

Cassie laughs. “Hey! Just like Cinderella!”

“You’re right, Cassie.” My mom grins, the tension that normally floats around her missing. “And Aria?” Her eyes flicker to Emmett for the briefest second. “Make good choices.”





19





Mower’s family lives in a split-level house on a quiet street of older homes and large lots. We could hear the steady thrum of music all the way around the corner on our approach, and every time someone opens the front door, it blasts into the night.

“What are the chances someone’s going to call the police on us?” I ask as we turn into the driveway.

“The police are coming?” Cassie’s eyes widen with fear.

“No.” I forget that she takes things so literally. “Only if a neighbor complains about the music being too loud. But we won’t get in trouble. Don’t worry. They’ll just tell us to be quiet.” By kicking us out and shutting down the party, but I don’t need to get into those details.

Six people linger on the porch, laughing and puffing on cigarettes. A haze wafts up into the cool night air.

“They’re smoking!” Cassie hisses.

“Just like they do outside at school,” Emmett responds in a low, calm voice. “You’re going to see people smoking and drinking and doing other things here tonight, Cass. As long as you don’t do any of it and you act cool, you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” She stands taller, schooling her expression, her demeanor visibly shifting as if she’s making a conscious effort to blend in. Meanwhile, there’s a touch of wild panic flickering in her blue-gray eyes as they take in this new sight, unsure of where to land.

“As soon as you feel like leaving, let us know and we’ll walk you home.”

“Okay!” Her voice is full of irritation.

He sighs heavily, his hand settling on the small of my back.

The moment we step inside, I wonder if bringing Cassie here was a huge mistake. Maybe Mower’s plan was to have “a few people over” but the entire house is crammed with bodies—many faces I recognize from school, some I don’t.

And one—a beautiful face with a fake, sweet smile—that I’d prefer not to see tonight, or any other night.

At least Holly’s across the room. She’s leaning against the wall, fawning over Adam Levic, the guy Emmett punched out last year for being an asshole to Cassie, according to Jen.

I guess she’s found a guy more like her. Maybe this means she’ll move on from attacking me.

Heads turn toward us as we stand in the doorway. People watch Cassie curiously.

Cassie shrinks into herself, her shoulders curling inward, her eyes wide and unsure of where to look, the easily induced smile replaced by stony shock and discomfort.

She’s fully aware they’re looking at her.

I lean in. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head and shouts, “It’s loud!” She presses her hands against her ears. “It’s too loud!”

I look to Emmett. He nods to the front door.

“Okay, let’s go outside.” I hook my arm through hers. She stiffens, but she lets me lead her out. In moments, we’re back on the porch and Cassie is making a dramatic point of coughing and waving away the cloud of cigarette smoke that lingers, glowering at it.

“We’ll walk you home, Cass,” Emmett says softly.

“No. I don’t want to leave.” She shakes her head furtively, her jaw set with determination, even as wariness flickers in her eyes. “Where’s Zach?”

“Probably in there.” Emmett slips out his phone and sends a quick text. He watches his screen a moment. “Oh. Sweet. Okay, follow me.” He leads us farther down the driveway, behind the house, to a separate garage at the back of the property. “Go up,” he instructs, pointing for Cassie to lead us up a set of wooden stairs that end at a second-story door.

“Better?” Emmett asks as we step into the small apartment.

Cassie nods, her eyes zeroing in on Zach. She grins and Emmett’s shoulders seem to sink with relief. Zach is sitting with four other guys on a sectional around the flat screen, battling it out in a game of hockey on the PS4.

“Who lives here?” I ask, taking in the beige walls and basic furniture. A simple, all-white kitchen runs along one side. A small hallway leads off the other side of the living room, I assume to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Mower’s older brother, when he’s not up in Fort McMurray working.”

“Harty,” Zach croons, dragging the ending, barely glancing over his shoulder to add, “Beer’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks, man.” Emmett shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to a chair, then heads for the kitchen. “AJ?” His eyebrows raise in question.

I consider it a moment, my mother’s “Make good choices” lingering in my mind. Having one or two beers and walking home versus five or six and driving is definitely a good choice. As was grabbing that extra-minty gum. I nod, slipping off my jacket and setting it on top of his.