I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,44

her head and her pink dress shimmering. She looked like part of the it, as if they’d specifically designed the theme around what she was wearing.

If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve believed that wholeheartedly.

Willow and I both had light brown hair and sometimes golden blonde hair. It ranged in shades—it all depended on the season or whether Willow had been to the hair stylist lately. She’d spent more time in the sun over the summer, and her hair was almost a normal blonde. It hung in curls down past her shoulders, extensions adding another six inches, and it looked good. She was like some sort of Greek goddess, owning the attention of everyone around her.

No, it was the way she wore it, the way she stood—as if she owned the entire gym. That was what drew everyone’s eyes.

Only a few might’ve realized it, but we were all living in Willow’s world.

She turned to look at me, her eyes haunted. “Don’t ask me.”

I stepped up next to her and looked down; I was wearing the same dress. I hated pink. I felt the crown on my head. I hated crowns. And I looked over my shoulder—my hair had grown and was a lighter shade than normal.

I was her.

I looked over the gym again. We were no longer at our old school. I didn’t recognize this one. It was new to me, like the question burning in my throat.

“Don’t. Please.” She began to whimper.

I looked at her. I mirrored her body posture—chin raised, shoulders back.

“Why did you do it?” I asked.

Black tears rolled down her face, her makeup smudging. “I can’t answer that.”

I tried a different question, the one I almost hated her for. “Why did you leave me?”

I bolted upright in bed screaming.

A hand clamped over my mouth and pulled me back down. Arms wrapped around me, and Ryan pushed me into the bed. He braced himself over me, and I could barely make out his eyes in the dark.

“Ssshh!” he whispered.

Fuck.

Reality flooded back. I was in Ryan’s room, Ryan’s bed, and this was my fourth week of sneaking over.

A door flew open down the hallway.

“Shit!” Ryan jumped over me, running to his door.

Feet pounded down the hallway.

“What are you doing?”

“Hide!” he whispered. Then he was out the door and running to meet his parents.

“Ryan!” his dad bellowed. “That sounded like your room.”

“It was Peach!” Ryan yelled back.

“It was Peach?” Their mom’s voice hitched up in worry. “That didn’t sound like one of her screams.”

Three sets of feet ran down the hallway and then another door opened and a light went on.

He’d said to hide, but I had to be quiet. Stealth. They couldn’t find me or this was over. Panic began clogging my throat. I pushed past it and started to slide from the bed.

“Peach? Honey?”

“Uh . . .what?” Peach’s voice was groggy.

“You screamed,” Ryan said.

“I did?”

“Honey, did you have a nightmare?”

“Uh . . . maybe? I must’ve.”

“Oh, honey.”

Their mother turned nurturing, and someone’s footsteps crossed the floor as another two sounded closer in the hallway, as if they were leaving the room.

“You acted quick,” Ryan’s dad said.

I almost squeaked. It sounded like he was walking Ryan back to his room.

Moving like a ninja, I lowered myself to the ground and rolled under the bed. This had been my move to hide from Willow if she decided she wanted to talk late at night.

Two shadows stood at the door.

“How are you doing? I know you and that Malcolm girl have become close.”

“What?” Ryan’s voice matched the slight hysteria I felt.

Shit, shit, shit. If they found out about me, if they told my parents, if this, if that—so many ifs ran in my mind. But they couldn’t. None of that could happen because then my parents would start watching me again. I wouldn’t be able to sneak out, and Ryan wouldn’t be able to sneak in, which was our pattern. We traded off unless we knew one of us absolutely couldn’t get away.

“I talk to Phillip every now and then at work. He’s struggling. I’d assume they all are. How’s the girl?”

“Uh, she’s dealing. I think.”

“Peach said you were close. Rose said she’s been over a bunch.”

“Oh! Yeah. I mean, yeah. She’s dealing. I mean, that’s all I can say.”

His dad sighed. “I suppose. Phillip said the littlest is at the gifted academy. He seems to be liking it a lot. They go down there four times a week to see him.”

They do? That was news to me.

“What about her?”