When she saunters back, she flips her platinum ponytail over one shoulder. “I ordered your drink for you.”
I stare at my drab shoes. She’ll hold this over me somehow. “You didn’t need to.”
Quinn rolls her eyes. “How else are you going to party with me all night if you don’t get your fix?”
“I’m not going to a party, Q. I just need to catch my breath, and then I’m going home.”
“You can’t sit home and mope for the rest of your life.”
The barista calls her name, and she’s gone again.
Now I’m tired, the adrenaline rush evaporated. Mope? Is she serious? I didn’t fail a chemistry exam. My. Mom. Died.
She returns with drinks in hand and passes me one.
I should stand up to her, tell her exactly where she can take her snide comment. Instead I say, “Thanks, but I’m really not in the mood for a crowd tonight.” I sip and sigh. How can someone who makes me feel worse about myself most of the time know me so well after only a few months? The three-sugar soy latte is perfect.
“Oh, enough sulking. What you need is a little fun.” She drinks her customized iced chai through a green straw, leaving an imprint of red lipstick when she pulls away.
“I’m not sulking. It’s been a long week.” I let the words hang. I shouldn’t have to explain myself.
“You’re coming with me, and that’s final. You owe me for the drink anyway.”
Why am I even friends with her? She latched onto me the moment we met and hasn’t left me alone since. I’m a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I know I don’t have any risk of heartbreak with Quinn. Either way, with or without her, I’m miserable.
I open my mouth to protest again, and the last person I expect to see traipses through the door. His hands hide within the front pouch of his navy Yankees hoodie, and his shoulders nearly touch his ears.
Joshua’s gaze locks with mine. His shoulders fall. Is he relieved? Angry? I can’t tell. He walks over. His slow gait gives the impression of uncertainty. “Hey. I thought you were asleep.”
Quinn speaks first, as always. “You wanna come with us?” She’s made it clear she disapproves of Joshua, so her invite is out of place.
“Where to?” His eyes never leave mine.
“A few parties. Maybe a club or two. You in?”
Joshua doesn’t even peek at her. “Did you walk here?” Does he think we’re the only two people in the conversation?
I level him with a deadpan gaze. Keep it together, El. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I needed your permission to leave the house.”
He inches closer. “You could’ve been hurt.” He has no clue how true his statement rings. “I would’ve walked you if you’d asked.”
“Is that your job now? To chaperone me everywhere?”
For once, he doesn’t have anything to say.
“Am I missing something here?” Quinn steps between us. “Did you two break up?”
Ugh. She has no filter.
“We’re just friends.”
Don’t feel. Don’t care. Don’t love. Don’t let him see how much his words affect you.
Quinn narrows her eyes. “Whatever. Are you in or not?” She plants her hands on her hips, almost knocking the silk rose loose, and taps her peekaboo toe against the tiled floor. Lips pinching, she sweeps her glare over him. She doesn’t really want him to join us, so why is she inviting him?
“Maybe another time.” Joshua scarcely looks her way and then addresses me alone. “Come back with me. There are some things we need to discuss.”
I should. I need answers. Does he know if Makai is my dad? Where did they want to take me tonight?
I almost say yes, but I can’t be around Joshua right now. If I go back with him, we’ll argue. I’ll break down. Then he’ll leave for sure. He already told Makai to “find someone else.” Which is exactly why I need to figure out who Makai is and how he’s linked to me. And I need to find out on my own.
“Like Quinn said, we’re going out.” Did I just agree to do the thing I don’t want to do?
She grabs my hand, pulls me toward the door, and waves at Joshua. “See you, Josiah!”
I don’t even bother correcting her.
The air in the cab is drenched with the stale smell of body odor and exhaust fumes. The contents of Quinn’s Coach bag pile between us on the bench seat: lip gloss, mascara, an antique compact, a half-eaten roll of Life Savers, a pocketknife, and a faded receipt. She opens her compact and begins retouching her already flawless makeup job.
I rest an elbow on the window ledge. Lean my face against my fist. I made Quinn tell the driver to take us back up my street first. But it was already too late. Mom’s sketchbook was gone. Now we take West Side Highway all the way downtown. As we near the insomniac area of the city, the Hudson illuminates. Like yellow brick roads, columns of light create golden paths along the surface. If only they led someplace over the rainbow. A place where even an ugly girl could catch a break.
“What are you wearing under that potato sack?”
I glance to my left. Quinn gathers her things, returns them to her bag.
“You mean my sweatshirt?”
She nods.
“A tank top. Why?” I suck in my cheeks. I have a feeling I know her answer. Whatever she says to persuade you, just say no.
“Lose it.”
I cross my arms. “Are you joking? It’s freezing outside.” How can she stand to go out in November wearing clothing no thicker than lingerie?
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re not going to be outside, are we? Now take it off. I’m not walking into the party with a mannequin from Old Navy.”
“My hoodie’s from Aéropostale.”
“Whatever. Blake Trevor’s the most popular guy in school. We can’t walk into his party looking like rejects. His college friends will be there.”
I stifle a groan. Blake Trevor? The guy has made my life a living purgatory since freshman year.
“Your rack is your best feature, El. Flaunt it.”
I loosen my clenched jaw. Is she serious? She hasn’t asked about Mom’s wake or how I’m feeling. What am I doing here anyway? Once we drop her off, I’ll take the subway back. Except . . . ugh. My MetroCard is in my wallet at home. No way am I wasting money on a return ride to the Upper West Side. A girl’s got to have principles. And double no way am I asking Quinn for cab fare—just one more thing for her to hold over my head. I’ll have to deal. It’s only a few hours, right?
Her face relaxes a smidge. “Look. I know you’ve had a hard day, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’m just trying to help you get your mind off it. Okay?”
No. It’s not okay. But I nod anyway.
She smiles. “Good. Be happy. You know I heart you.”
I offer a semigrin in return. For all her faults and selfishness, Quinn has stuck by me even though I’m not exactly the most popular choice for company. Besides, she helped Mom make her first big art sale. For that I am indebted indefinitely.
“I heart you too.” And despite everything that’s happened today, I almost mean it. But how can I face a roomful of Blake’s jerky friends? The cab slows and my stomach acid roils. Maybe I should’ve eaten the granola bar after all. At least then I’d have something to throw up.