But I realize as we sit there laughing about the night, reliving the reckless, stupid stunt we just pulled, stuffing our faces with way too many calories to count, that I’m happy. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I wouldn’t change a thing about this moment. Because in this moment, I’m not a mafia daughter or a girl who intentionally broke the heart of the boy she loved; I’m not the Darling Dog, a Dolce Daughter, or the Whore of Faulkner. I’m just a normal sixteen-year-old girl hanging out with her besties, laughing, and consuming obscene amount of sugar. And because I know the moment can’t last, because I know it’s not real, that it’s just a tiny bubble of joy and not my reality, every bite tastes that much sweeter.
ten
Crystal
When girls say they only have guy friends, or they don’t get along with other girls, I feel so incredibly sad for them. Sure, my brothers are some of the best friends a girl could have, friends who protect me and have my back. But there’s a magic in female friendships, something indescribably intoxicating, a secret ingredient that even we can’t name. When we’re together, we become powerful, unstoppable. We become magic.
I feel sad for girls who miss out on that because they’re too busy trying to prove they’re better than everyone. Who would want to be different from other girls, when other girls are such amazing, badass people?
I get home a few hours later, realizing as I wave goodbye to Dolly and make my way along the front walk to the house that my life feels almost normal. Not perfect, but I have friends who drop me off after a night of hanging out with the girls while my brothers party it up after the game. I even sort of cheered at halftime. It’s the first time since I left New York that I want that kind of life again. I made mistakes, yes, but I liked having friends, brothers who played football, and even King checking in a couple times to make sure I was okay. Maybe, just maybe, I can still make a better life for myself here. Keep the good parts and learn from the bad.
It’s only a little after eleven when I open the door and step inside. Dad’s a bit of a night owl, so I’m not surprised to find a few lights on. The house is spotless, thanks to the staff Mom hired while she was here. I’m halfway to the stairs when a voice stops me.
“Where have you been?”
My hand flies to my heart, and I spin to see my brother sitting alone in the darkened living room.
“What the hell, Royal?” I say. “You scared me to death.”
Light filters in from the next room, but he’s not watching TV or doing anything, just sitting in the dark like a creeper. “Answer the question,” he says.
“I was out with Dolly and Dixie,” I say. “I told King that, and that I was safe. I thought you were with him. Why aren’t you at the postgame party?”
“I don’t want to party,” Royal says, standing and prowling toward me. “I want to know why my sister’s still fucking the guy who did this to me.”
“What?” I ask, taking a step back, my heart beating faster in my chest.
“You and Devlin,” he says, stopping in front of me, his dark eyes ferocious. “Tell me you’re not still fucking him, Crystal.”
“I’m not,” I say, my throat tightening.
His gaze bores into mine, and I force myself not to look away. But Royal’s my twin. He’s always been able to tell when I’m lying.
“Bull. Shit.” He grits out the two words, glaring back at me. But I’m his twin, too. I can read him as well as he reads me. And it’s not the anger in his eyes that breaks my heart. It’s the hurt he hides beneath it.
“What did he do to you, Royal?” I whisper, my heart still hammering. “Tell me.”
Royal’s hands ball into fists, and he steps even closer, his voice menacing. “Tell me why you left school with him today if it wasn’t to fuck?”
“It wasn’t,” I snap. My own anger rises, and I welcome it. I know why he’s pissed. It’s so much easier, so much safer, than pain. “I left school because you and King were being assholes, and I needed to get away. I’m so sick of being told what to do, and how to dress, and who to be. I just want to be myself, Royal. The same as you get to.”
He laughs, but it’s not the laugh I know and love. It’s a horrible, twisted, black thing snaking out of him like a barbed tentacle. “You think anyone in this family gets to do whatever the fuck they want?” he says. “You think I went through all this because I fucking wanted to?” His voice rises as he speaks until he’s shouting, his eyes furious, his fists shaking with rage.
“No, but—”
“You’re the only person in this family who thinks she can do whatever the fuck she wants,” he yells. “And here I was, thinking I was protecting you. I went through that shit foryou, Crystal. So you wouldn’t have to. So they couldn’t get to you. And all along, you were spreading your legs for him—willingly. It was all for fucking nothing!”
His fist shoots out so fast I barely have time to duck. An involuntarily little scream escapes me as I cower away from my brother, my twin, my better half. The boy who has protected and sheltered me with his presence, who would hold his umbrella over me when it rained so I’d stay dry, even if it meant he’d get soaked. The boy who anchored me and grounded me and made me feel safe and calm when no one else could.
But I couldn’t do the same for him.
And now this boy is someone else. He’s not a boy who has never tried to hurt me in his life, a boy who has never made me feel scared or unsafe.
He’s breathing hard as he yanks his hand back. A puff of plaster dust sinks to the floor.
“What’s going on out here, you two?” Dad asks, his footsteps thudding in the hall as he approaches.
Royal and I stare at each other, neither of us moving. My heart is racing as he looks from me to the hole he put in the wall as if he can’t comprehend how it got there.