sleep and maybe not wake up.
I glanced up as Dad closed his suitcase and moved toward the door.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said. “Lock the door behind me, and don’t leave the room.”
Before I could remind him that I wasn’t six years old, he was out the door.
I got up and paced, thrashing around for something else—anything else—to think about. I spotted my laptop bag, then glanced at the clock on my phone. I still had two hours before my earth science summaries were due. I could sit down and start working.
But as soon as the thought of homework occurred to me, it seemed ridiculous—rearranging those deck chairs on the Titanic. I glanced down at the comforting glow of my phone. The icon for my messaging app sat there in the corner. Against my better judgment, I tapped it and reread my last text to Liam:
If everything works out, I’ll be in LA in four days. Are you still down for In-N-Out?
It had been over twelve hours, and he still hadn’t replied. Even if his battery had died, or he’d left his phone at home, he should have texted back by now. I should tell him exactly what I thought of him. I should make him feel as small as I felt. I typed out a new message:
What the fuck, Liam? Do you even care? Or were you just trying to get in my pants?
But I knew the answers. Liam was a good guy. He’d had several opportunities to get more physical with me in his Mustang—and I probably would have let him—but he hadn’t. Which meant he wasn’t using me. He probably had wanted me on some level, but my behavior had pushed him away. What kind of girl gets horny when her dad collapses? Probably, he had been disgusted by me. I was disgusted.
I deleted the fuck-you text and typed:
I miss you.
I clicked Send and immediately wished I could take it back—but a second later, the phone rang. I stared at it stupidly, as if it were a rock that had suddenly come to life in my hand. It rang again. The name on the display was Liam Miller. I snapped out of it and answered.
“Liam?” There was a long pause on the other end, then:
“Who are you?” It was a girl’s voice. Low-pitched and husky.
My body stiffened. “Who is this?”
“I’m Liam’s girlfriend.”
Heat spread up the sides of my face.
“You need to stop texting him,” the girl said, her voice shaking. “Delete his number. Now.”
The line went dead. I sat there with the phone pressed to my ear, and then I let it drop to the mattress.
I should have known. I should have known. I should have known.
Sobs overtook me. I fell facedown on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. Of course he had someone else. I was so stupid. My shoulders shook. My stomach muscles spasmed.
From the corridor outside, I could hear footsteps and laughter passing my door—
And then the tears just stopped, like someone had shut off the faucet. The heat drained from my face, and the fist around my midsection let go. I felt flat. Hollow. Like a sleepwalker, I stood up, not knowing where I was going, my legs moving on their own.
I stood in front of the sink. The counter was stained with rust. The cold tap squeaked as I turned it, and I listened to the pipes moan as the basin filled. Then I turned off the water and plunged my face under the surface.
As the water rose over my ears, sound faded to silence. The red circles of my eyelids grew dimmer, taking on a sickly green tint. Slowly, I expelled the air from my lungs. Gently. Calmly. The last of the bubbles tickled my face as they floated to the surface.
Underwater, I could hear my own pulse, hear the shoosh-HOOSH, shoosh-HOOSH of blood squirting through the small vessels in my ears. Somehow, the quiet and the dark made everything louder. Brighter. Clearer.
Green bled into black at the corners of my vision. Stars burst across my field of view. I felt my head go light and my knees get weak. I counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty.
At forty, I gave up.
I pulled my face slowly out of the water, feeling the surface tension break, one pore at a time. Then I gasped, sat down on the toilet lid, and reached for a towel.
CHAPTER 14
I WAS IN BED WHEN I heard Dad’s footsteps approaching the door