36
After it was determined thatI had sustained no major injuries, my parents decided to go out after all, as long as I promised to rest with ice on my head and allow my friends to make dinner and clean up. I thought it would probably be nice to be the guest for once.
Mila and I sit together on the hammock while Chase and Emily warm my mother’s patented homemade grill-top pizzas with smoked salmon, red onions, and capers in the kitchen. Ryan picks at his guitar out by the fire pit as the sun begins to lower in the sky, Chelsea brings us gemonades, and we try to avoid the awkwardness between us as we learn a little more about Mila. It actually isn’t that hard. It’s weird how sickness and injury erase bad feelings, or at least suppress them. My grandmother was the biggest bitch. She cut my father out of her will because she didn’t approve of my mom, and then suddenly she got really sick and everyone was devastated because all they could think about were the nice things she did in between emotionally manipulating everyone. P.S. She lied about cutting my father out of her will. One last trick from beyond the grave. Surprise! Here’s the money with which I tried to extort you out of true love. These are my last words to you. Remember me fondly.
Chelsea hands us our drinks and hovers over us awkwardly. “One of us should probably go check on Emily.”
I nod reluctantly. One of us just had a mirror smashed over our head. But sure. Check on super smash sister. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” She kisses my forehead gingerly, and I grit my teeth as pain radiates through my skull, and then she heads into the kitchen.
Mila eyes my head with a pitying look. “It just fell on you?”
“Pretty much.”
She shudders. “That thing looked solid.”
“It is.” I take a sip of my drink. I know it’s not the smartest idea to drink when I’ve taken a painkiller. But I can’t get the image of the girl standing in front of the mirror, inches away from me, close enough to touch, out of my head. I take another sip, desperate to push her away. “So. You’re from Islip?”
Mila’s expression relaxes and she leans back, dangling one arm over the edge of the hammock lazily. “Not originally. Iowa first, but I was born in Zagreb.”
I squint at her, geography class playing on hyperspeed in my head. “Croatia, right?”
“Yep. I don’t remember it, though.” She draws a heart on the condensation on the side of her glass. “Adopted as a baby. I don’t remember too much of Iowa, either, because we moved to the city when I was four. My mom works there. We moved to Islip around fifth grade so I would have a wholesome suburban Long Island childhood.”
“And?”
She grins. “And I corrupted them all.”
I smile back. “As one must.”
She takes another sip and shoots me a sidelong glance. “You realize we’re sworn enemies.”
I nearly choke on an ice cube. “Why do you say that?”
“Islip and Three Village,” she says seriously. “Our sports teams are deadly rivals.”
I let out a deep sigh of relief. I would feel so awful at this point if she knew how we’d looked at her when she first walked in the door. Like an intruder. The other woman. What kind of antiquated way of thinking is that anyway? It crosses the line from loyalty to something darker. I’m not sure the kind of loyalty Emily wants from us—or maybe sometimes demands—is right. Maybe loyalty isn’t even the right word for it.
“There’s no official cheer program for lacrosse,” Mila continues animatedly. This is obviously a subject she cares about deeply. “But cheer is immersive, right? Why should one sport be prioritized over another? It’s about spirit, not favoritism. So I went to the administration, I petitioned the board, I personally led the effort to expand the program to attend as many games as possible. Win-win, we increased school spirit, it doesn’t look terrible on my college apps, and I met Chase.”
“Smart. But of course you’re just having fun.” I study her for a reaction and she blushes.
“Sure. Because watching your boyfriend’s ex throw herself at him is a fucking riot. You would know, right?”
I stare at her, taken aback. “I’m sorry.”
She blinks. “No, no, I’m sorry. That was completely uncalled for. It’s a reflex. Defense mechanism. For a second I thought… But you’ve been really nice.” She offers a shaky smile, and I realize she’s not completely oblivious toeverything that’s been going on this weekend. Of course she isn’t. Anyone would have noticed Emily throwing herself at Chase. And probably Chelsea and I talking up Ryan. Although maybe—I desperately hope—we were more subtle than that.
“You’re really cute together,” I say. And I mean it. I really do.
“So are you and Chelsea,” she echoes. But she’s not smiling. And she’s looking over my shoulder.
I turn around with a sinking feeling in my stomach, to see Chelsea sitting next to Ryan in the backyard. Their heads close together, whispering urgently, Ryan’s body angled in toward hers in a way that makes me feel nauseous and dizzy that the pain in my head doesn’t account for.
I feel anger gathering white-hot in the pit of my stomach, but before I can rise to my feet, there’s a loud bang from behind me, and Mila and I whip our heads around in unison to see the cellar door smack against the wall and slam shut on the other side of the living room.
“Who did that?” Mila whispers.
I can hear Chase and Emily in the kitchen, talking and laughing over the sounds of clinking cutlery. Ryan and Chelsea are still outside. “The wind,” I say.