Instructions for Dancing(31)

It’s Sophie and Cassidy standing right there in the middle of the staircase.

They’re kissing.

And I see.





CHAPTER 26





Sophie and Cassidy



SOPHIE AND CASSIDY outside Cassidy’s enormous house. It’s late at night. Cassidy is struggling to fit her key into the front door.

“Let me help you,” Sophie says. She tries to take the key away from Cassidy, but Cassidy doesn’t let go. Instead, she tries to pull Sophie in closer.

Sophie resists.

Cassidy says: “You’re so pretty. How come it took me so long to notice how pretty you are?”

Sophie’s dark eyes are hopeful and careful. “How drunk are you?” she asks, kind of teasing, kind of not.

Cassidy shakes her head. “You’re pretty when I’m sober too,” she says.

This time when Cassidy pulls her in, Sophie doesn’t resist.



* * *



—

Cassidy leading Sophie through the doors of the planetarium at Griffith Observatory. Except for a guard and a tour guide, no one else is there.

“How did you do this?” Sophie asks, excited and awed.



Cassidy shrugs. “Might as well use my parents’ money for something good,” she says.



* * *



—

This moment right now, them kissing in the stairwell like no one’s watching.



* * *



—

A late-night pool party in someone’s backyard. Christmas lights strung across the sky. Kids strewn across the lawn.

Cassidy stumbles, almost falls into the pool, almost pulls Sophie in with her.

“God, Cassidy, how much did you drink?” Sophie asks.

“Don’t be like that, Sophie,” Cassidy says. “Relax.”

Sophie looks down into the pool. It’s lit from inside, glows blue-green against the night. To Cassidy she says: “But I thought you liked me like this.”



* * *



—

The four of us at Surf City Waffle. Martin’s USA map is folded and tucked between the syrup bottles and the wall.

Sophie and Cassidy are next to each other but not touching.

Cassidy is looking out the window. Her face says she wants to be someplace—anyplace—else.

Sophie is looking at Cassidy. Her face says she wants the same thing.

Cassidy starts ripping pages out of her Road Trip USA guidebook.

She doesn’t look at Sophie, or any of us, as she leaves.





CHAPTER 27





The Ones You Don’t See Coming, Part 2



THE VISION ENDS, and I’m back in the stairwell.

Sophie and Cassidy aren’t kissing anymore. Instead, they’re waving at Martin and me with goofy, happy expressions on their faces.

Martin nudges my shoulder. “Shit,” he says. “You saw them, didn’t you?”

I’m too rattled to talk, so I just nod.

Sophie and Cassidy realize something’s wrong. They start walking down the stairs toward us.

I can’t stay here and pretend to be happy for them when I understand how much pain they’re going to cause each other.

“I have to go,” I say, and push my way out the door.

And it’s strange, because I’ve seen so many visions that I know to expect all relationships to end. But the ending of our friendship is a heartbreak I didn’t see coming.





CHAPTER 28





The Fall



I KNOW SOMETHING’S wrong as soon as I get home from school.

First of all, the sliding glass door that leads to our patio and the common courtyard is wide-open. Mom hardly ever opens those doors because she hates nature. Mostly she hates bugs, but bugs are a part of nature, so. Her back is facing the room and she’s gripping the doorframe, like she needs to steady herself.

I frown over at Danica. She’s on the couch holding her phone to her ear with one hand and tugging on the ends of her Afro with the other. “Okay, Daddy,” she says, using her usual happy-happy-joy-joy Dad voice.

I don’t have a voice like that for Dad anymore. If Danica knew the truth of why Mom and Dad got divorced, she wouldn’t either.

I spin on my heels, trying to escape upstairs and avoid talking to him.

Mom halts my escape. “Evie, your father needs to speak with you.”

I start to protest, but she looks so blindsided that I stop. “What’s going on?” I ask.



“Your father will explain.” Her Jamaican accent is so thick, she sounds like she just immigrated yesterday.

Danica holds her phone out to me.

I take the phone but don’t hold it to my ear right away. It always takes me a few seconds before I can say anything to him. Inside me are two Evies: the one that used to love him and the one that still does but doesn’t want to.

“Hi,” I say, using my flattest voice.

“Hi, sweet pea.” He has me on speakerphone. I hate speakerphone.

“I don’t like it when you call me that,” I say.

He sighs. I can picture exactly what he’s doing: pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and rubbing his palm across the back of his neck with the other. “I have some news,” he says.