She’s awake, luckily, and is just pulling a hoodie on over her head when I enter. It doesn’t take long for her gaze to sharpen into a glare. “Did you know there’s this thing that exists called—oh, I don’t know—privacy?”
I close the door behind me and tilt my head to one side, studying her. She’s obviously still mad at me from last night. “Here’s your stuff,” I mumble, feeling awkward as I dump her clothes down on the end of her bed. Then, I fumble around in my pockets for her phone, stepping forward and offering it to her. “And your, uh, phone.” I can’t meet her eyes, but I like to think it’s because I’m tired andnotbecause I feel ashamed.
“Thanks,” she says bluntly.
The tension is almost unbearable as she stares at me, inscrutable but most likely judging me for every single action I took and every single word I spoke last night. I feel so scrutinized by her that I turn to leave her room, but then I remember that there’s something I’m forgetting.
“Look,” I say, turning back around. “About last night—”
“I already know that you’re a jerk and you do drugs and that you’re pathetic as hell,” she cuts in quickly. Even in that low voice of hers, the words cut straight through me. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”
At least she knows who Tyler Bruce is. He’s a jerk, yeah. He gets high, yeah. He’s pathetic? No, wait. That’s not Tyler Bruce. That’s me, and suddenly I feel exposed, almost like she can see straight through me. But I don’t know how that’s possible. “Just—just don’t say anything.” God, I evensoundpathetic.
Eden crosses her arms over her chest, and her gaze softens a little. She looks at me for a while, almost with amusement, and then says, “Are you asking me not to snitch?”
“Don’t tell my mom or your dad or anything. Just forget about it,” I beg, and I really do feel like a fucking loser. Here I am, begging some girl I barely know not to ruin my life even more than it already has been.
“I can’t believe you’re involved in that stuff,” she says quietly, dropping her eyes to her phone and then throwing it onto her bed. Her gaze meets mine, but I can’t remember what color her eyes are. She’s too far away to be able to tell. “Why do you even do that? It really doesn’t make you look cool if that’s what you’re trying to do.”
I do a lot of things to look cool, to look like I have everything figured out, but getting stoned isn’t one of them. If only she knew I did it to numb myself from all of the bullshit I have to deal with, to forget about everything Dad did. “Not even close.”
“Then what?” she asks, frustrated. I still don’t know why she cares so much.
“I don’t know,” I answer. As if I’m going to tell her the truth. I don’t intend to ever tellanyonethe truth, and if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be Eden. She’s a stranger. “I’m not here for a lecture, okay? I just came to give you your stuff back and to tell you to keep your mouth shut.” I run my fingers through my hair and look at the door. I need to get out of here. I need sleep.
And then, just as I’m about to leave, I hear Eden almost silently ask, “Why do you hate me so much?”
My eyes flick back to hers. Is that what she thinks? That I hate her? Nothing I have said or done to her is anything personal. It’s just me being Tyler Bruce. Maybe I come across as hateful, and that’s because I am, but not toward her. “Who said I hated you?”
“Um. You kind of insult me every chance you get,” she tells me, furrowing her eyebrows as though she doesn’t know why she even needs to explain it, like it should be obvious. “I get that it’s weird having a stepsister all of a sudden, but it’s weird for me too. We got off on the wrong foot, I think.”
“No.” Laughing, I shake my head. Incredible. She thinks I act this way because I’m not used to having a stepsister? She’s so wrong. I act the way I do because I have no other choice, because it’s a defense mechanism to save myself from becoming vulnerable and exposed. That’s something she’ll never, ever understand. “You don’t get it at all.” I don’t want to talk anymore, so I finally spin around and head for the door.
“What don’t I get?” Eden asks, raising her voice. It’s firm, demanding. She wants an answer.
I don’t even turn around. I just say, “Everything.”
15
Five Years Earlier
“How’s that homework going?” Dad asks me late Sunday afternoon.
I glance up from my desk, my legs numb with pins and needles from sitting cross-legged on my chair for so long, and my hand is beginning to cramp. Dad is at my door, leaning back against the frame with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and flannel shirt, and he hasn’t shaved. He never does on Sundays. That’s why I love the weekend, because Dad is always much more relaxed and easygoing without the stress of work looming over him. It’s like the weekend rolls around and suddenly the pressure to be perfect, both him and I, disappears for a short while.
“Um,” I mumble, swallowing as I look down again and run my eyes over the work in front of me. I’ve spent the afternoon working on an assignment for my history class, but even when I wrapped it all up, I was too scared to take a break. “I finished it an hour ago. I’ve just been going over the notes I took in class.”
“Good job,” Dad says. His mouth transforms into a smile and he gives me a nod of approval, then he quickly straightens up, removes his hands from his pockets, and rubs them together. “Alright, put downthat pen. You’re done for the day. Come on, there’s something I want to show you outside.”
I stare blankly at him, mostly wondering if I’ve heard him right. Did he just say I was done for the day? No more studying? I’ve only done a couple hours. It doesn’t seem like enough.
“C’mon!” Dad says, clapping his hands together, urging me to hurry up.
I don’t dare challenge him, so I throw my pen down onto my desk and scramble off my chair, feeling lightheaded as I stand up too fast. Despite the numbness in my limbs, I make my way toward him, and he throws his arm over the back of my shoulders, pulling me in closer against him as he guides me downstairs.
“What’s outside?” I ask quietly. Maybe I shouldn’t question it, but I’m curious. And besides, Dad is in a good mood, so I don’t think he’ll mind me asking questions.
“You’ll see!” he answers, and when I steal a glance up at him out of the corner of my eye, he’s beaming down at me with a wide grin. It’s definitely not a first, but it’s still a rare occasion.
