One of Us Is Next(24)

CHAPTER EIGHT




Phoebe

Friday, February 28

I send the texts to Jules rapid fire on Friday afternoon, one after the other.

You’ve been busy huh?

Feel like doing something tonight?

I have to work but only till 8.

Want to meet me there?

Then I sit on the edge of my bed, gazing around the room I share with Emma. It’s smaller than the bedroom I had to myself in our old house, and crammed with twice as much stuff. Mom got a worker’s comp settlement from Dad’s company when he died, and while she never talked about how much it was, I thought it was enough. Enough that she wouldn’t have to go back to work unless she wanted to, and we could stay where we were.

Now Mom works at an office manager job she hates, and we live here. When we moved last summer, she told us that downsizing to an apartment was about convenience, not money. But nobody except Owen believed her.

I get up and wander to Emma’s side of the room, which is pristine compared to mine. Her bed is neatly made, every wrinkle smoothed away from the scalloped white coverlet. There’s nothing on her desk except the laptop we share, a coffee mug filled with colored pencils, and a notebook with a Monet print on the cover. I have a sudden urge to open the notebook and scrawl a message in the most apologetic color I can find. Pale pink, maybe. Emma, I miss you. I’ve been missing you for years. Just tell me how to make this up to you and I’ll do it.

Emma is at the library, and even though we’re barely speaking the emptiness of our room almost tempts me to knock on Owen’s door and offer to play Bounty Wars. I’m saved by the chime of my phone and glance down in surprise to a return text from Jules. She’s been cool toward me ever since the Derek reveal, and I wasn’t expecting a quick response.

Is that thing tonight? With Cooper Clay and everybody?

Yeah, around 6. It’ll be packed, though. You probably want to avoid that scene and just come at 8 when I get off.

The pre–Ashton’s bachelorette party get-together at Café Contigo started spiraling out of control once people heard Cooper might be there. Dozens of Bayview students who don’t even know him are saying they’re going now, and I’m not sure the Santoses are ready for that kind of crowd.

Will Nate be there?

I sigh as I text back, Probably. Guess I’ll be seeing her a lot earlier than eight o’clock.

My phone rings, startling me. Jules wants to FaceTime. I hit Accept and her face fills the screen, grinning expectantly. “Heyyy,” she says, sounding like her usual self. “Do you have time for a wardrobe consult?”

“Of course.”

“Which of these says, I’m way more fun than your ex and I live right here? This…” Jules holds up a plunging sequined tank top and waves it for a few seconds, then drops it and picks up a black ruffled halter. “Or this?”

Ugh. I don’t want to encourage Jules in her Nate Macauley obsession. Even if Bronwyn weren’t still in the picture, I’m pretty sure he and Jules would be a terrible pairing. Jules likes to be joined at the hip with whoever she dates, and I don’t think that’s Nate’s style at all. “They’re both gorgeous,” I say. Jules pouts, so that’s obviously the wrong answer. “But if I had to choose, the black.” It’s a little less revealing, anyway.

“All right, the black it is,” she says breezily. “I’m going to watch some makeup videos and try to nail a smoky eye. See you tonight!” She waves and disconnects.

I toss my phone onto my rumpled comforter—it’s balled up in the middle of my bed because I’m such a restless sleeper, especially lately—and grab an elastic from my end table. I pull my hair into a ponytail as I stand and cross to the bedroom door. When I yank it open, Owen almost tumbles inside.

“Owen!” I pull my ponytail tighter and narrow my eyes at him. “Were you eavesdropping?” Rhetorical question; he totally was. The longer my cold war with Emma goes on, the worse of a snoop Owen becomes. As though he knows something isn’t right, and he’s trying to figure out what it is.

“No,” Owen says unconvincingly. “I was just…” A loud knock sounds on the front door, and he gets a total saved by the bell look on his face. “Going to tell you that someone’s at the door.”

“Sure you were,” I say, and then I frown when the knock sounds again. “Weird. I didn’t hear the intercom.” I’m assuming it’s some kind of delivery, but normally we have to buzz people through the front door before they can come upstairs. “Did you?”

“No,” Owen says. “Are you going to answer it?”

“Let me see who it is.” I cross the living room and press one eye against the peephole. The face on the other side is distorted, but still irritatingly familiar. “Ugh. You have got to be kidding me.”

Owen hovers beside me. “Who is it?”

“Go to your room, okay?” He doesn’t move, and I give him a gentle shove. “Just for a few minutes, and then I’ll come play Bounty Wars with you.”

Owen grins. “All right!” He scoots away, and I wait to hear the click of his bedroom door before undoing the deadbolt.

The door swings open to reveal Brandon Weber in the hallway, a lazy smirk on his face. “Took you long enough,” he says, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.