The Truth About Keeping Secrets(42)

‘Sydney, stop. I have no idea what this is, I –’

‘The texts.’

‘What texts?’

‘Please don’t lie.’

I didn’t mean to, but staring daggers at her made me see her as she was two years before, when I cared about her; I felt a pang of sympathy for the girl in front of me now. What was I doing?

‘I’m not.’

‘Then why have you been acting so weird? Since my dad –’

‘I’m so confused, Sydney.’

‘Why have you been acting weird?’

She sighed a big, full-bodied sigh. ‘I’ve felt so guilty.’

‘What?’

‘I’m – I’m so sorry. For what happened. Seeing you the way you were, it just – made me feel awful, so, so awful, and I didn’t know how to apologize. It just, like, hit me … and I wanted to come to the funeral but since I’d never made amends, I …’

‘So you’ve just felt guilty? You’ve been acting like a freak because you felt guilty?’

‘Yeah.’ We were quiet. ‘I’m so sorry for everything. I was gonna apologize but it never seemed like the right time, and I wanted to talk to you here … but what were you talking about? Is someone harassing you? I –’

I turned on my heel and left.

My compromised brain had no idea how to process any of this.

So it acknowledged the information, felt very, very angry, and then promptly threw it away.

Later, June and I shared the corner of an L-shaped sofa. Normally I would have treated the gap between us like it might electrocute me if I touched it, but now, I collapsed into her, and she collapsed back and didn’t push away, and our hips brushed against each other every time one of us shifted or laughed.

And in the moment, this was the most important thing. I had forgotten about Bea completely.

I was aware of the conversation the way you’re aware of your nose: I knew it was there but I didn’t care to focus on it. I mostly paid attention to my nerve endings; the fact that June and I were so close to each other that the only motion required to kiss her would be to turn my head slightly to the right. I worried someone could read my mind, or that it was all too obvious. But no. They wouldn’t know. This was a completely innocent, sleepover sort of contact.

My ears perked up when I heard my name.

‘It’s so weird to see Sydney drinking.’ The statement came from Greg, who spoke with this sleazy smirk that I didn’t like.

I smiled and said, ‘Sorry, who are you?’, half because I was drunk, and half because I honestly didn’t know anything about him at all. It was funny enough to not be cutting, apparently, because the group laughed.

June asked on my behalf. ‘What does that mean?’

He proceeded to talk like I wasn’t there. ‘Like, in school, I guess. She’s just kind of quiet.’

June shifted. ‘You guys just don’t know her well enough. She’s a fucking loudmouth.’

I looked at her with faux outrage and elbowed her in the ribs, which resulted in her shrieking and spilling her drink; she kind of half-caught some of the liquid with a cupped hand. And I don’t know what came over me, I seized her wrist and licked her palm like I’d been dared to stick my tongue on a frozen flagpole, and June giggled like crazy, the sting from the alcohol and her laugh and the sheer publicness of it all blending into a moment that was almost euphoric. I watched as Greg leaned over to Heath and said loudly enough that we could hear but quiet enough that he could claim he didn’t mean us to: ‘Threesome just waiting to happen.’

We both stiffened, I think, but probably not for the same reasons. ‘Hey, man,’ Heath said, serious.

Greg smiled again. ‘Come on. You can’t blame me.’

Heath stood up, towered over Greg. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

‘Dude, come on, I –’

That was when June left, and stormed up the basement stairs, polished wood creaking beneath her feet.

I followed her. I don’t know what else happened with Heath and Greg, because I followed her.

Up one set of stairs, then another.

June slinked into a room off the main hallway, and I shouldered myself in to find her sprawled out on what I assumed was Heath’s bed, going by the Yale pennant that hung above it.

June tensed up, then relaxed when her eyes met mine. ‘God,’ she said, ‘you scared me.’

‘I’m sorry!’ I said, too loud, too quick. ‘I followed you up here.’ I held on to the doorknob to make sure the force of my words didn’t knock me over. ‘Do you want me to leave you alone?’ The roles had been reversed, I realized; now it was me, interrupting June in the middle of the night.

June sniffed. Scooted over on the bed. ‘No. Come on.’

I sat down beside her slowly; any quicker and I think I might have toppled on to her. A wave of nausea rolled through me. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah, don’t worry. I was just feeling sick.’

Ugh. Her saying the word sick made my stomach rumble in the worst way. I tried to play it cool.

‘Oh. OK.’ I promptly flopped over on to my back, and she lay down next to me, hair spilling around her face like oil.

I was too drunk to press her about anything. My mind urged me to move on to the next thing.