Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(24)

When we get to the row of houses, light spills out of the one in the center, along with the thump of music. Seb finds a patch of grass to park on. I barely wait until he turns off the car before I’m slamming the door shut and stalking across the lawn. It’s a chilly night, the start of October turning from golden days to autumn, but I suppose it’s hoping against hope that my sister came to this party dressed in a parka.

At the door, a bored looking kid wearing glasses and a tweed jacket glances at us. “Names?” he asks.

“Fuck off,” I say as I shoulder past him. I’d rather go to a frat with an open keg than beg for a watered-down rum coke from a philosophy major high on shrooms. This first room must be the dance floor, because we walk straight into a knot of sweaty bodies.

“Want to split up?” Seb calls over the beat.

I jerk my head to the right. “I’ll go down this hallway. You check the dance floor.”

I wriggle past a couple getting handsy and slink down the hallway, peering into each room. There’s a group of people sitting in a circle around what looks like a Ouija board, the makings of a threesome, a couple of guys passing around a joint. One of them holds it out to me, but I shake my head. I’m not strict about not drinking during the season like James is, but I only touch weed when I’m off duty in the summer.

“Hey,” I say, “you see a girl here? Tall, dark hair, blue eyes? She’s probably wearing a necklace with the letter ‘I’ on it?”

“You’re the hockey player,” one of them says, blinking at me with all the urgency of a sloth.

“Yes,” I say impatiently. “Have you seen that girl?”

“Upstairs,” another says, coughing dryly. “You sure you don’t want a hit, man? It’s primo shit.”

“Nah, thanks.” I fight back the little hook of panic trying to reel me in. Upstairs at a house party usually means one thing. I’m not na?ve, I know my sister has probably had sex before and that it’s not my business to forbid her from it, but what if she does something she regrets? She’s a relationship girl. She’s been heartbroken ever since some jerk at the club down at Kitty Hawk stood her up for the date they planned in Manhattan. If she found someone new to date, I would have heard about it by now.

I take the stairs two at a time, calling her name. The lights are dim up here, the music muffled, the air filled with the sour smell of weed, undercut with incense. My eyes water as I push past someone at the exact moment they blow out a smoke ring. I start opening doors, which is a dangerous proposition, but I’d rather walk in on her than miss her entirely.

At the end of the hallway, I finally spot her. She’s on a bed, thankfully fully clothed, laughing as a girl—Victoria, I think—whispers something in her ear. Sparkles cover her midnight blue dress, and the gold-and-diamond initial necklace Mom and Dad gave her during one of her middle school era Izzy Days glitters as well. When she spots me, she shrieks, jumping up from the bed and wrapping me into a hug. She smells like booze and weed, but it’s not like I give a shit about that. Her eyes are clear enough, which means she’s not roofied.

“Hi,” she says. “You’re here! This is so cool! Where’s Sebby?”

“Downstairs.” I pull away and look at her. “What are you even doing here?”

“Victoria’s cousin invited us.”

“You’re only a freshman.”

“I know, right?” She reaches up and pets her hands through my hair, like I’m a fluffy dog instead of her older, taller brother. “Sooooo cool!”

“Iz, we saw you on Snap. That sort of stuff can’t get back to Mom and Dad.”

She just waves her hand. “They went to college too.”

“Let’s go home.”

“What? No way, you just got here! Let’s go find Sebby and dance!”

I pull her hands out of my hair. “You’re drunk. Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“Not until the evening,” Victoria says. She hangs over Izzy, swaying them both slightly.

“Oh my God, you had a game,” Izzy says. She reaches up again, but I block her hands. “How did it go? Did you win?”

“Yes,” I say shortly. I wish I could go find Seb for backup, but I’m afraid if I leave, she’ll disappear into the crowd again. I check my pockets, but of course I left my phone in the car. “Now let’s…” I trail off as I see a flash of red hair out of the corner of my eye.

Penny.

This time it really is her; she’s looking hot as fuck in a tight sweater dress and tall boots, her hair half-up, half-down, braids framing her face like a crown. She’s hanging on the arm of some random fucking guy, letting him push her up against the wall as she laughs with a cute snort.

I can’t breathe for a second. I thought I was on edge before, but now I’m on the verge of fucking losing it. I wish I could rip the image of her in that dress out of my mind. Or save it for later, but without that prick in the picture. Her eyes widen as she notices me, and something shifts in her expression as she takes in the scene; Victoria hanging over Izzy, and Izzy hanging over me.

She definitely doesn’t know that Izzy’s my sister.

I don’t recognize the guy, but my guess is he’s a senior, maybe even lives here in Haverhill House. I got the sense, given the hand job walk-through, that Penny isn’t all that experienced. Does he know that? Did she tell him? Is she planning on hooking up with him?