Ricochet (Addicted #1.5)(3)

I’m just getting used to this new impulsive Daisy. Who, Rose informed me, has apparently been around for the past two years. When we moved into our new house, we invited Daisy to help decorate. On her tour through the four-bedroom villa, she spotted the pool in the backyard. No mind that it’s still winter. A mischievous smile warped her face, and she climbed out of Rose’s bedroom window, onto the roof and prepared to jump in the water from three stories high.

I didn’t think she would do it. I told Rose, “Don’t worry. It’s probably just an attention thing.”

But she stripped into her underwear, took a running start, and splashed into the pool. When her head popped up, she wore the biggest, goofiest “Daisy” grin. Rose almost killed her. My jaw permanently unhinged.

And she floated on her back, barely even shivering.

Rose said when our mother isn’t around, Daisy tends to go crazy. And not the I’m going to drink my sorrows away and snort some coke rebellion. She just does things that our mother would condemn, and Daisy probably knows we’re more forgiving. When Rose saw that Daisy survived the jump without a bruise, she simply called her stupid and then let the issue drop. Our mother would have ranted for a solid hour, flipping out over any injuries that could have ruined her modeling career.

More than anything, I think Daisy just wants to be free.

I guess I was lucky enough to escape my mother’s strict scrutiny. But maybe not. I didn’t turn out perfect. One could even say that I am royally fucked up.

We climb the stairs to the highest floor, and Daisy turns the doorknob, the biting cold prickling my bare arms. The roof. She took me to the roof.

“You’re not planning on jumping are you?” I immediately ask with wide eyes. “There are no pools for you to land in this time.”

She snorts. “No duh.” She lets go of my hand and sets her beer on the gravel ground. “Do you see this view?”

Skyscrapers light up the city, and people even explode fireworks off other buildings, the colors crackling in the sky for tonight’s celebration. Cars honk below, kind of drowning out the majestic atmosphere of the night.

Daisy extends her arms and inhales deeply. And then she screams at the top of her lungs. “HAPPY NEW YEAR, NEW YORK CITY!” It’s only ten thirty, so technically it’s still New Year’s Eve. Her head turns to me. “Scream, Lil.”

I rub my hot neck, anxious. Maybe it’s the lack of sex. Or maybe sex is the one thing that’ll help me feel better. So…is sex the cause or is it the solution? I don’t even know anymore. “I’m not a screamer.” Lo would disagree. My cheeks flush.

Daisy faces me and says, “Come on, it’ll make you feel better.”

Doubtful.

“Open your mouth wide,” she teases. “Come on, big sis.”

Am I the only one who thinks that sounded perverted? I look over my shoulder. Oh yeah, we’re alone.

“Scream it with me.” She bounces on her toes, preparing to say “Happy” but she stops when I don’t share her enthusiasm for the holiday. “You’ve got to loosen up, Lily. Rose is supposed to be the uptight one.” She grabs my hand. “Come on.” She leads me closer to the ledge.

I take a glance down. Oh God. We’re super high up. “I’m afraid of heights,” I tell her, shrinking back.

“Since when?” she asks.

“Since I was seven years old and Harry Cheesewater pushed me off a jungle gym.”

“Oh yeah, you broke your arm, didn’t you?” She smiles. “And wasn’t his name Chesswater?”

“Lo made up his nickname.” Good times.

She snaps her fingers in remembrance. “That’s right. Lo put a firecracker in his backpack in retaliation.” Her smile fades. “I wish I had a friend like that.” She shrugs, as though that time has passed for her, but she’s still young. She can always grow closer to someone, but then again, with our mother dragging her every which way, she probably has less time for friends than any of us did. “Okay, enough Lo talk. He was supposed to be banned from the conversation tonight, remember?”

“Forgot,” I mumble. Most of my childhood stories involve him. I can count very few where he isn’t present. Family trips, he was there. Reunions, he was there. Calloway dinners, he was there. My parents might as well have adopted him. Hell, my grandmother bakes him her special fruitcake for no reason at all. She’ll mail it to him every so often. He charmed her somehow. I still think he gave her a foot massage or something nasty.

I squirm. Ew.

“Let’s play a game,” Daisy suggests with a giddy smile. “We’ll ask each other questions, and if we get them wrong, then the other person has to take a step towards the ledge.”

“Uhh…that doesn’t sound fun.” My fate will rest in her ability to answer a question.

“It’s a trust game,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Plus, I want to get to know you better. Is that so bad?” Now I can’t say no.

She’s testing me, I think.

“Fine.” I’ll make the questions easy so she’ll know the answer and I won’t have to feel my heart pop out of my chest.

She positions us so we stand maybe four feet from the ledge. Shit. This isn’t going to be fun. “What’s my birthday?” she asks me.