Fury (19 page)

“At a florist’s. That’s where they met,” Zach said, his handsome features looking pinched. “He was picking out some bouquet for this
other
woman he was dating at the time. My mom was looking around, and he said that this one particular flower perfectly matched her lips. And she fell for it! She fell for that line.” He looked nauseous. “So anyway, this fucking smarmy real-estate guy in some random flower store hits on my mom and
boom!
I got a stepdad. And you want to know why she was there, why
she
was at the florist’s?”

Em wasn’t sure that she did, or why he was telling her all this in the first place. Zach went on: “She was
picking out flowers for my dad’s funeral service
.”

He stared at her as if he wanted applause, or a reaction, or for a lightbulb to go on over Em’s head. When she still didn’t say anything, he sighed. “I guess I kind of stopped believing in all of it after that—love, commitment, all that bullshit.”

But Gabby’s face hovered in Em’s mind, her big blue eyes and dimples. How trusting she was.

Em struggled to control the trembling of her voice. “Zach, I’m sorry that your mom moved on so quickly. But . . . But . . .” She could feel the tears swelling again.

Zach sighed. He didn’t look tortured anymore. He just looked tired. “Em—I don’t want to be in this position. I don’t want to have to choose.”

“You don’t want to
choose
? Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you
kissed
me. You kind of
chose
then.” In a fit of snapping rage, she felt her palm slap the wall for emphasis. “Don’t you get it, Zach? You hurt me. You fucked with my head. And Gabby’s. Gabby’s even more than mine. And you obviously have
no idea
how much you’ll hurt Gabby if she finds out.”

He took an unconscious step back and blinked a few times. Then he narrowed his eyes.

“
I’ll
hurt Gabby? Just me? You were involved in this, too,
you know.” He laughed coldly. “You weren’t exactly pushing me away.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Zach,” she said, feeling like the words were sharp edges, shredding her. She was hysterical now, gulping back tears and shame. He was right, she realized as she swung around. He might be the lying asshole, but this mess was as much her fault as his. She slammed his bedroom door behind her. Forever.

She was disgusting. She was a terrible friend. She was totally unworthy of a real relationship. As she walked toward her dad’s car, she took a few deep breaths, trying to stall the tears she knew would come. But it worked only until she got into the BMW. Her crying became faster and more out of control as she drove—not toward home, she couldn’t face that—but down roads she rarely took and around corners she’d never turned, until she knew she had to pull over. Her sobs were blurring her vision. She needed to collect herself. On the side of the road, Em put her head on the steering wheel and sobbed.

She didn’t even bother to conceal her misery when she came home, ignoring her parents’ concerned faces and inquisitive murmurs. “Are you hungry?” her mom asked.

“No,” Em said. She stomped up the stairs, closed and locked her bedroom door, and threw herself on top of the bed. She thought about what else she could have said to Zach and how
bad she felt about blowing up at Chase. And Gabby. Gabby. Should Em tell her? Would Zach? She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it—let him trick her into thinking he really cared. The worst part of it all was that if he asked her to come over now, if he begged for her forgiveness, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

No. The worst part was that he wouldn’t ask for her forgiveness.

Beep-beep-beep.
A text. Em barely wanted to pick it up. Whoever it was, it was someone she didn’t want to talk to—Gabby? Ugh, not now. Zach? Even worse. Chase? She couldn’t deal with him, either. She picked up a pillow and smothered her face until it felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Finally, she flipped open her phone and looked at the screen. It was JD.
Babysitting emergency. Can you bring over some Dr Pepper?

Somehow the normalcy of that text, the easiness of it, made her cry all over again. Em knew that this was JD’s way of breaking the ice after yesterday’s argument, and wished the mess her life had become could actually be fixed by something as simple as soda. With a heavy sigh, Em rolled over onto her side and forced herself out of her bed. Maybe hanging out with JD would help. Everything felt so innocent over there.

Em gripped the banister as she headed downstairs, feeling like if she let go, she might just tumble all the way down. She stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed four cans from the fridge, and headed next door. She didn’t even put on shoes—just
stuffed her feet into woolen slippers while shouting upstairs, “I’m going to JD’s!” As she scurried across their snow-covered lawns, feeling the cold bite into her toes, she looked up at the night sky, cloudless and starry. Despite the blackness of her mood, she couldn’t help but appreciate its beauty.

“If I’m going to be forced to watch
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
for the one millionth time, I need some Dr Pepper,” JD said as soon as he opened the door, rolling his eyes. Em almost resented how comfortable—how unmiserable—he looked in a bright red sweatshirt and gray sweatpants that had the word
TINY
emblazoned down the leg.

But when JD saw Em’s puffy red eyes, her dark hair in a huge, ridiculous tangle, he stopped smiling. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Em nodded—she couldn’t bring herself to talk about it just yet. Instead, she held up the soda cans.

“You’re a savior,” he said, taking them from her and letting her into the house. “A savior whose feet must be freezing.”

Em came into the familiar Fount home, its faint smell of lemon-scented cleaning products and ginger tea washing over her, making it a little easier to breathe. “Hey, Mel,” she said as she walked into the TV room, where caramel popcorn (a shared favorite among the Fount-Winters kids) and Mrs. Fount’s minicracker-pizzas were arrayed on the coffee table. Em’s stomach growled as her appetite came rushing back.

“Hi, Em!” Mel leaped up to give Em a big bear hug. Melissa was freckled and brace-faced, and her hair smelled like berries. She was the closest thing that Em had ever had to a sibling, someone to love and pick on (sometimes simultaneously). Em found that she was smiling into Melissa’s hair.

“The movie’s halfway over, but you should watch with us,” Melissa said, plopping back down onto the couch. She had a tiny pizza-sauce stain around her lips.

“Oh, good. I forget what happens at the end,” Em said, gushing while filling a bowl with popcorn. She felt like she could eat the whole bowl. It was amazing how much lighter she felt already, now that she was in the Founts’ home. It was like falling into clean sheets in a big bed at the end of a long day.

But then Melissa sat up, suddenly, with an expression of panic on her face. “Oh my god, what time is it?!”

JD looked at his watch—a pocketwatch he kept clipped with a chain to whatever pants he was wearing. “It’s eight thirty-six,” he reported.

“Ohmygod I’m supposed to text Jake!” Melissa was halfway out the door before Em could even get the words out:

“Who’s Jake?”

“My
boyfriend
,” Melissa shouted disdainfully, already halfway up the stairs to her bedroom.

“Her
boyfriend
?” Em gawked at JD, while stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Of course. My eleven-year-old sister has a male companion,” JD said dryly. “She gets more action than I do—even if it’s just holding hands.”

Em laughed a little, slapping his shoulder.

JD coughed, his face softening. “I’m sorry about the other day, Em.”

“It’s okay.” Her throat was too tight for her to say more.

“No, really. I was a jerk,” he said, shifting on the couch, “and I’m sorry.”

“I . . .” She trailed off. Remembering the fight with Zach made her head pound and kind of erased her memory of the fight with JD. It was all blending together in a huge, blurry, tear-stained mess.

“It’s just that I don’t know Zach very well, you know? And I just . . . I think you deserve so much more.” JD kept crossing and uncrossing his arms, kind of holding one elbow and then grabbing the other. “I know that sounds lame.”

It occurred to Em that JD was nervous. For that matter,
she
was nervous. Her pride was more than wounded. It was maimed. “It’s really okay, JD. . . . The thing is . . . Okay, can I tell you something?” She sighed deeply again.

“You can tell me anything. Really. I won’t . . . I don’t need to be so opinionated all the time. Just tell me, whatever it is.” His eyes pleaded with her.

Em picked at a hangnail on her right pinkie. “The thing is
that you were right. You were totally, stupidly, right.”

“What do you mean?” They were facing each other now, on the couch, each with one leg folded beneath them and one leg hanging over the edge, foot on the floor.

“You were right about Zach, about him being an asshole.” She inhaled sharply; the words cost her a huge effort.

“Okay. How so?” He was obviously trying not to push her too hard. She appreciated it, especially since she hated saying the words out loud. It was like as soon as they left her mouth they would be true.

“Like . . . it’soverwithmeandZach.” She let the words tumble out. “Whatever it was is over.” Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes. “And I can’t believe I did this, to Gabby. To myself.” Em blushed.

He reached out, grabbed her hand, squeezed it.

“Em . . . I’m—I’m sorry. Even though I’m not sure if that’s what I’m supposed to say.” He kept squeezing. “Em. You know I wasn’t, like, judging you, right? I was just . . . concerned. I think you’re amazing, you know?”

Em stared at him, his hair sticking out in every direction, like usual. With him everything felt so natural, so necessary.

“You don’t think I’m a terrible person?”

“Of course not.” He reached out to touch her arm and left his hand there, his thumb rubbing her elbow.

“I just feel like I don’t deserve much of anything,” she said,
trying to swallow back the tears. “I can’t believe I did this. It was so
stupid
.” She leaned back and dropped her head onto the back of the couch, willing herself not to cry.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” JD leaned forward to brush away a tear that managed to leak out despite her efforts. Even after years of shared tents on camping trips and wrestling matches, Em thought this might be the closest they’d ever been. She could feel his pulse through his hand, which was still hovering on her cheek. He opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but he just took a breath instead.

In her gut, Em knew he was about to kiss her. She swallowed. JD was going to kiss her. She was terrified. And yet she didn’t flinch or move away.

But in an instant, the moment was over. He reached past her to grab the remote control.

“No more traveling pants,” he said, fumbling with the remote. He hit several buttons at once, accidentally switching to a Spanish-language channel before managing to find the guide. “Must start being the one to
wear
the pants around here and not watch teenage-girl crap anymore. Ooooh,
Real World
reruns! Yes?”

“What season?” Em felt a little dazed.

“Hawaii.”

“Is that the one with the crazy girl?”

“They’re all the one with the crazy girl,” JD said. “Hey,
I have an idea.” He got up and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with two tall glasses and a bottle of his parents’ rum. “Just a splash. They won’t be back until tomorrow, anyway.”

A yummy, sweet,
strong
drink sounded like exactly what she needed. And so they settled in with rum and Dr Peppers.

“Drinking game!” Em proposed, giggling. She was still feeling a little disoriented.
JD almost kissed me.
It was impossible. “Anytime anyone makes out with anyone, take a sip.”

“Okay. And anytime anyone does a drunk confessional, take another sip.”

“We’re going to be wasted.” Em laughed, the cathartic, sneezy laugh that comes after a good cry. Despite everything, she felt about a million times better than she had two hours ago.

They watched four episodes, giving up on the drinking game after they realized that their livers couldn’t handle it. Em finished the mini-pizzas. (“Jeez, did you not eat for days?” JD asked as she scarfed down the last one.) At some point, Melissa yelled down that she was going to sleep. By eleven, they were horizontal on the L-shaped sofa, heads almost touching, empty glasses in front of them.

“I’m just going to close my eyes for a little bit,” Em said between yawns. She grabbed both afghans from behind the couch, throwing one to JD and keeping one for herself. “Then I’ll go home.”

“Whatever you say, sleeping beauty.” He reached over his head to tousle her already tangled hair. And they fell asleep just like that, JD’s fingers just skimming the top of Em’s head, Em curled into the back of the couch, nose against the soft brown leather. For the first time in days, she fell asleep quickly, dreamlessly.

A few hours later, though, she woke with a start. She had no idea what time it was, and the clock on the DVD player was blinking
12:00
, clearly stuck on reset. She shivered, sat up, and pulled her hair back into a knotty ponytail. Her mouth felt thick with the sweet rum and soda. The moon came in through the sliding door, and she looked over to see JD sleeping silently, his mouth slightly open, his hand still stretched out above him. His cheekbones looked angular in the dark. It was like he was a whole other person—not the boy she’d grown up with, but some guy with a strong jaw and weird hair. Some guy she had just met and wanted to get to know.

Just then she had the strangest feeling, like someone was watching her. But the house was heavy with silence. She scanned the room, her eyes falling on the TV, the lamp, the empty popcorn bowl, the maroon tapestry hanging on the wall. And then she gasped. There, in the sliding-glass door, was a face. A girl. Blond, glowing a little, smiling menacingly.