“Come on. There has to be something. We won’t tell. You’re a Player now. Or... you might be. We’re all in this together,” Jake said. Adam nodded along but didn’t meet my eyes. “How about... what’s your biggest fear?”
The wind had picked up and I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I thought for a second, tilting my head to the sky. It was covered in blinking, bright stars. Adam’s porch light was on, but we didn’t need it. I found the dippers, sitting like nesting dolls, just below the North Star. I took a deep breath.
“I’m scared of the dark,” I said finally. I tried to laugh but the sound that came out was chalky and strange. “That’s why I love astronomy so much. There’s no such thing as absolute darkness in the night sky.”
Jake didn’t laugh. Neither did Adam. And I finally felt calm. Like I had passed a test. Jake leaned forward. His eyes were black and wide and they held my gaze with a ferocity that scared me. He put his hand on the swing to stop us from moving. “Where does that come from?”
“What are you, a shrink?” I asked. But no one chuckled. I took another sip—rye whiskey, I’d decided—and just said, “I don’t know. My dad introduced me to the constellations when I was a kid and they always made me feel safe. I even have those stupid glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. Can’t fall asleep without some light, you know?”
“Go deeper, Newman,” Jake said. His eyes narrowed and he leaned in further so his fingertips grazed my knees.
“Maybe...” I started. “Maybe it’s because I’ve always felt inferior.” The words were bubbling now. Things I never evenlet myself think, let alone say out loud. “Like I don’t belong at Gold Coast Prep. Like I have something to prove. Like I have to be perfect.” I thought of my anxiety nightmares, the ones that started after I came to Prep and now ruined my sleep on the nights before big tests or presentations. How the thought of not measuring up to my brilliant peers made me want to run and hide.
Jake leaned back into his chair, seemingly satisfied. But I felt like he needed more.
“I know I’m not good enough but I’m scared everyone else will find out.”
That made him smile. “Do you think other people feel that way, too?”
I turned over the question in my mind, thinking of Nikki and Shaila. “I don’t know. I guess everyone’s scared of something,” I said. “Like Shaila, you’d think she’s not afraid of anything. But really, she can’t do heights. Not at all. She wouldn’t even go on the Oyster Fest Ferris wheel with me.”
“Oh yeah?” Jake asked.
I nodded. “She’s a baby when it comes to that stuff. We’re all scared of something, I guess. Maybe she has some deeper reason why, too.”
Adam kicked the ground again and sent us rocking back and forth. Neither of them said anything for a while and I tilted my head to stare up at the blanket of stars in silence.
After a few minutes, Adam finally spoke. “I’m hungry, dude. Should we get a pizza?”
Their conversation continued as they debated the merits of Mario’s and Luigi’s, the two competing slice spots in town.
But I stayed quiet, turning over what I had just revealedabout my own shortcomings, and, inadvertently, Shaila’s. She would have her own meeting like this, too. Everyone would. What would she say about me? Would it be by accident or on purpose? Had I said too much?
I tried to push the guilt down into the pit of my stomach, to convince myself that I hadn’t betrayed Shaila’s trust. But I knew, somehow, that I had just given the Players ammo. And they would use it. I just didn’t know when. Or that it would somehow lead back to Shaila’s last night alive.
—
I’m sluggish and tired all week, my thoughts scattered. Marla was probably right about pretending everything’s fine, but I’m still thinking about Rachel’s text, the one I left unanswered, and about the look in Nikki’s eyes as she grew more vicious during the Show. When Henry texts me on Friday night, it’s exactly what I need to take my mind off things.
Date night? My place?he asks.
A few moments pass.
The parentals are gone.
I bite down on my lip and smile. Henry has been extra sweet since the other night at Nikki’s, finding the easiest pops for Jared to complete and looking after him at the all-boys nights. He’s the only one of us who refuses to talk about college acceptances—or rejections—which come in next week. Says it’s too stressful and we should all just freakin’ chill. Seeing him would be such a welcome distraction from Rachel and Graham and Shaila, too. They’re all characters in my nightmares these days. I could use a night without them.
Plus, Henry’s soobviousin a way that’s easy, comfortable,reliable. He can so quickly shift between newsboy prodigy and all-Americanboy. His only real fault is the never-ending need to please his parents. That’s what he used the Files for, to get those math study guides. It’s his weakest subject, but he knew he needed A’s in calc, stat, and econ to get into Wharton. And even though he sneers at the idea of working for “the man,” just like his father, we all know he will.
Sometimes I look at him and I think I can see his entire future: a business degree, a fancy internship, a spacious apartment in the city. He would be riddled withwhat ifs, consumed by the fact that he gave up on his dream of reporting on the front lines to work until midnight worrying about spreadsheets. But he’d still have it all: the wife with big tits and impeccable taste, the mansion in Gold Coast and a place out east. Sometimes I wonder if that wife will be me and if we will stay together forever simply because of Shaila. How could I be with someone who had not known her? How could you make a life with someone who never knew a whole chunk of you?
But then again, the thought of that life, of having everything pre-prescribed, makes my stomach spasm. I push the idea of grown-up, unfulfilled Henry out of my mind and read his texts again. I only have to think about theright now, that’s all.My mouth twitches into a smile.
Tonight, when everything else seems to be a question mark, hanging at Henry’s for a while isn’t my worst option. At least I won’t have tothinkabout the freshmen, or Graham, or Rachel, or whose blood stained an ugly shirt three years ago.
Be over at 7, I respond.
Yes!he writes.I’ll order sushi.
