she doesn’t hang up on me, so at least there’s that.
“Your mom,” I’m saying, “she does that kind of stuff, right?” Mrs. Adams has a reputation in the community for being both a badass lawyer and a soft heart for charity cases.
“Yes,” Gwen slowly says. “But this isn’t usually how it works. Usually there’d be a public defender, and then—” She pauses abruptly, voice changing. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. This guy is a friend, right?”
“Boyfriend.” I haven’t had many occasions to actually use that word, and it comes out stilted, unfamiliar on my tongue. My eyes lurch to Emory, who’s flopped back on my bed, grumpily prodding his bruised jaw. Upon hearing the word, his head jerks up, eyes narrowing. I narrow mine right back, and when I say, “He’s my boyfriend,” there’s nothing stilted about it.
“Huh.” There’s a stretch of silence. “Isn’t this the guy who… uh, you know. With the accident?”
My jaw tightens. “Isn’t Hamilton the guy who tormented you all throughout school?”
Silence, and then, “Fair enough.”
“Look, I’m sorry, there are just… circumstances.”
“No,” she replies. “I get it, I do. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
I tell Gwen about the pills. The addiction. Reyn taking them from me. Getting caught. It’s not a nice story and I don’t like telling it—especially when Em is there on my bed, watching me—but if it can help Reyn, then I don’t care. I don’t care what Gwen thinks about me, and I don’t care if Emory disapproves. Gwen hums along, making quizzical and consoling sounds in all the right places. I can hear rapid typing in the background, and I won’t lie. It’s sort of pissing me off. It’s like she’s not even paying attention to me.
Then she says, “Mom’s telling you to keep your mouth shut. Don’t admit to anything. Don’t say anything to anyone.”
My breath escapes in a shocked exhale. “That’s it? I can’t help him, at all?”
“I didn’t say that,” Gwen answers. “This is just damage control. Part one. Keep your mouth closed.”
I prop my forehead on my palm, staring unseeingly down at my desk. My eyes fill with tears, blurring my vision. “Is there a part two?”
“Yep.” There’s a few more clicking noises before Gwen adds, “Part two is where my mom kicks ass and takes names.”
Emory snorts when I relay this. “Told you so.”
I slide the phone away, rubbing a hand over my face. “So I guess we wait.” I hate it. Who knows where he is right now or what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. Freaking out, probably.
Emory pushes himself up, groaning just as painfully as Reyn had this morning. “This is fucking stupid. What the hell were you two thinking?”
I glare at him. “Us? Just what the hell were you thinking with that stuff last night?”
“What stuff?”
I fling a gesture at his face. “The fighting, you idiot! You two going at it like that? That’s what’s fucking stupid.”
He rolls his eyes, wincing because of aforementioned idiocy. “This is what guys do, V.”
“No, it’s what children do.” I add, “Actually, I know children who manage to settle their differences more maturely than that.”
“Had to happen.” He flexes his bruised fist, head shaking. “Reyn broke the bro code. If he really wanted you, then he had to fight for you. So that’s how it went down.”
“Well, when you say it like that…” On second thought, “Nope, still sounds idiotic.”
“Whatever,” he scoffs. “You got duped by Sydney Prescott and that baby hag of hers. You weren’t exactly operating on all cylinders, either.”
Well, not much I can say to that.
“Em,” I start, remembering Reyn’s missive from earlier, before everything imploded. “About Reyn and I…”
Emory groans, flopping back on the bed again. “You two are such a pain in my ass, I swear to god…”
I smile sadly. “I know you think it’s… how did you put it? ‘Stupid schoolgirl puppy-love’?” He must hear the hurt in my voice—the same hurt I’d felt when he’d said it—because he cuts his eyes to me, confused. “But it’s not. I really do love him.” I don’t say what I’m thinking. Reyn and I didn’t pick one another; fate, tragedy brought us together. It’s going to take a lot more than that to pull us apart.
He looks away, reaching up to rub at his temple. “Sometimes I wish...”
When he trails off, I prod, “Wish what?”
He answers, “I wish we could just be a normal brother and sister,” and I almost have to laugh. How many times have I had that