Under the Lights (The Field Party #2) - Abbi Glines Page 0,66

because, seriously, if she was beating herself up over getting drunk and high, that was a touch overboard.

She nodded. “They do. But some don’t walk away from it. We didn’t. Not Poppy, not me, and not Quinn.”

Who? “Was Quinn another friend?”

“Quinn was three years old. She was Poppy’s little sister. I loved her smile and her laugh. She was always happy, and she loved me. That night . . . she’d been upstairs in her bed asleep. I hadn’t known. Poppy didn’t mention it, and normally she would say we had Quinn to watch. We didn’t drink or smoke when we had Quinn there. But that night . . . Poppy had thought it would be safe. Quinn was in bed, so she didn’t tell me. I had no idea. No one did. Until . . .” She paused again, and a sick knot formed in my stomach. I wasn’t being a pussy, but, dammit, if this story was going where I thought it was, Willa had a lot more that darkened her eyes than I had first assumed.

“I was lying on the floor after looking for cheese balls in the pantry. I had the munchies. I’d been too drunk to stand up. Then the scream . . . it was so full of pain, terror, and agony, I’ll never forget it. Poppy was screaming, and I scrambled up and ran outside toward her voice. I knew something was wrong, but I hadn’t been prepared to see Quinn floating in the pool, facedown and lifeless. I’ll—” She stopped and swallowed as a silent tear ran down her face. “I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never forget. And Quinn will never have a chance at life. Neither will Poppy. Four days later Poppy took her life. She couldn’t live with knowing Quinn was dead because we hadn’t been watching her. She blamed herself completely. I should have asked. I should have checked, but I didn’t. It wasn’t all her fault. When the paramedics came, so did the police. We were all arrested for intoxication, drug use, and possession, and then there was Quinn’s death. It was never proven to be murder because it wasn’t. But we had been left to babysit, and she’d drowned due to our drug and alcohol use. I spent the next six months after Poppy and Quinn’s funeral in a correctional center for girls. When I got out, my bags were packed and at the front door of my mother’s house. I had no one to call but Nonna. She bought me a bus ticket and brought me back here.”

Fuck.

Double Fuck.

How did I respond to that? Jesus, she’d been through hell over one night of partying. I’d partied many times with no repercussions other than a bad hangover. Her whole world had been tossed.

“I’ll never be able to forgive myself. For Quinn or Poppy. I don’t expect anyone else to.”

“Willa, nothing was your fault. We’re teenagers. We are allowed to make mistakes—it’s part of growing up. What happened to you isn’t fair. You didn’t know the little girl was there. How is her death your fault? It isn’t. Neither is Poppy’s. Poppy was at fault. She should have kept her head clear and watched over her sister. She couldn’t live with the fact she let her sister down. But not one part of this was your fault. You were a casualty.”

I believed every word I said, but Willa didn’t. It was in her eyes as she turned to look at me finally. She’d kept her focus on the lake while she spoke. “I should have asked. They left Quinn home often. I should have asked.”

“Quinn wasn’t your responsibility.”

She didn’t say anything as she lifted a hand to catch a new tear that had broken loose. “April the fifteenth was the night Quinn drowned. On March fifteenth she’d turned three years old. We had celebrated with a Sofia the First birthday party. Purple princess stuff everywhere.”

I didn’t have a clue who Sofia the First was, but she needed to talk about this. I had a feeling she hadn’t talked about it one time since it happened. All I could do for her was listen.

“She had dark brown curls like Sofia the First, and I always called her Princess Sofia to make her giggle. I’d pretend I got confused and thought she was the real Sofia the First. She’d say, ‘I’m Quinn, silly. Remember me?’ and I’d act surprised. That only made her laugh harder. They were my home. Quinn