“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She exhales. “It’s just been a long day. I think all the adrenaline from everything caught up to me.”
Three patrol cars are lined up against the side of the bridge ahead, lights flickering rapidly. It’s hard to see past the glare. I hold my hand up to shade my eyes and that’s when I see it.
The light blue 1960s VW Bug.
There’s only one in town.
I glance over at Kenley. Her face is pale.
Cops surround the VW, gesturing for us to keep moving. I press my nose to the window, a strange sensation building in my chest. I can’t really tell what’s going on, but I do see flashlights pointed down over the railing, and one thing is perfectly clear: there’s no sign of Rose.
6
Kenley
My second-story bedroom window mirrors the one next door. When Finn moved in, it became a constant comfort knowing he was so close. We had a literal window into one another’s worlds. A place that no one else could touch. In the third grade, we moved our desks under the window and would sit across from one another and do our homework. When he broke his leg playing Pop Warner and was stuck in his room for two weeks, we rigged a line and pulley between the houses, and I’d send him notes and candy. It was a literal life-line; him for the candy, me for the companionship.
Until Rose did what she did, and I pulled down my shade, never opening it again. He was part of what happened that night. I may have to face him at school, but I refuse to do it from the sanctuary of my room.
When I get home after the bonfire, I toss my keys on the little table by the door and head to my bedroom. I don’t want to talk about seeing Rose’s car on the bridge. It could be anything. The car is old—an antique. Maybe it broke down? Maybe she ran out of gas. Knowing Rose, she’ll burst into school tomorrow and suck all the air out of the place while she reenacts the dramatic tale.
I change, tossing the smoky clothes into my hamper, and reach for my backpack, annoyed that one day back in school and I already have homework. I sit at the desk and that’s when the strangest compulsion comes over me. Before I think twice, I open the shade. I do it fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
I’m not exactly surprised to see him there—sitting right across from me, like he’s never moved. Our eyes meet, and a flicker of emotion passes through his. Worry? Anger? Distress?
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. It’s from our AP Lit group chat.
Did you hear about Rose’s car?
I glance up and see that Finn is reading the same
text.
A flurry of responses comes through, each one vibrating in my hand. I don’t take my eyes off of Finn though, not until he reaches out and pulls the shade, taking the glow of light and a million questions with him.
Existing in the same orbit as Rose Waller is like basking in the sun on a clear day with the rays casting over you. She had the ability to make everything feel warm and full of possibility. But imagine a world where the sun vanishes, and a gray pallor takes over, leaving you cold and lost.
That’s what it was like when Rose turned on me.
The Wallers aren’t just a normal family. They’re a family built on a mythology. It’s self-created, but with vine-like roots, dug deep and twisting into the thick clay that makes up the foundation of Thistle Cove.
Ask anyone and they’ll tell you how Regina and Brice Waller met. It was during the homecoming dance. Brice was on the football team and class president. Regina head cheerleader and on the debate team. They saw one another across crepe paper and the mirrored disco ball and realized that the one they’d been looking for was there all along. There was no Thistle Cove High royalty bigger than Jason Chandler and his girlfriend Monica, but Brice came close. He dropped football after graduation and focused on politics. That drive took him all the way through college and graduate school, then back to town where he ran for city council. He did it all with the support and guidance of the rock that stood by his side, Regina.
They bought a magnificent home in Thistle Cove overlooking the water. They had a child. They were the power couple, who weren’t just blessed with intelligence, but wealth and a perfect family. How did I know they were perfect? Because they told you so, anyone that would listen, and, as Rose’s best friend, I witnessed it first-hand.
Rose was fun. Silly. Generous. She was an only child, so it was natural she’d want company around, and for years and years that company was me. We played dress-up and tea party and climbed trees. Her father had a life-like play cottage built for us, deep in the woods that backed up to his property, and we spent hours there planning our lives together. And we had plans. Big ones. We’d go to the same college and be roommates. We’d both meet perfect boys, fall in love, have amazing sex, and when we’d sown all our wild oats, we’d get engaged. Our weddings would be together, with matching dresses and sparkling tiaras, but we wouldn’t wear heels, just sneakers underneath.
Even though I knew some of it was ridiculous and that no, we probably wouldn’t have a joint wedding—or even go to the same college—I did think we would always be best friends. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.
Until Juliette moved to town.
And the Wallers and the Chandlers reclaimed their friendship from Thistle Cove High.
And Rose didn’t just leave me behind—she betrayed me.
And that’s when I learned that people aren’t perfect, and that mythology isn’t real; it’s a clever way of mixing reality and desire. Truth and fiction. A way of proving to the world around you that you’re bigger than everyone else.