But when everyone arrives back at her house and the designated drivers hand their sheets to Quentin, I feel relieved, grateful Road Rally is almost over. The teams stand huddled together in little clusters. It’s easy to spot the new friendships, little tethers extended between juniors and freshmen. These stories will become inside jokes months down the road, legendary in a few short years.
“Hey,” Jared says, out of breath. He knocks his shoulder into mine and when I look at his face, hovering a few inches above me, I see his eyes are dilated, his face flushed. “Wild, huh?” he says, grinning and raising his eyebrows.
He looks strange and off-kilter. “You okay?” I whisper, mybreath an icy cloud. But he’s already on his way back to his team, trotting like a wild horse left unbridled.
“Judges, assemble!” Nikki calls. I roll my eyes and drag my feet to where she stands with Quentin and Henry.
Henry swipes through the photos on Marla’s phone first, pointing out flashes of naked butts and beer cans, someone drenched in mustard, until he pauses on one image. Henry’s mouth falls open and he nudges me. “Uh, Jill...”
“What?” My head pounds harder than it did before, and the little area of skin above my eye begins to ache. He hands me Marla’s phone. A blur of flesh and platinum hair appears. A boy and a girl, with just a few bits of fabric in between. The photo was taken on the sand, which makes it hard to discern where the beach begins and the boy ends. The two are lip-locked, mid-passion, but there’s no mistaking who’s in the photo. Jared and Marla.
A flush creeps up my chest. My hands start shaking and I close my eyes but all I can see are naked bodies rolling around in the sand.
I swipe to see the next photo and find the tiny freshman Sierra McKinley in only a bikini, her eyes wide with fear. She’s standing in front of the ShopRite alone. I swipe again to find another girl, one I can’t make out, leaning down, meeting Sierra’s lips in an open-mouthed mess. The girl, some sophomore, I think, looks wasted, her hair stringy, her bikini bottoms sagging. But it’s Sierra’s face I fixate on. Her eyes are open, her fear obvious. She didn’t want this, not in front of everyone, not for their amusement. Her gaze is fixed on someone off to the side, hoping for an acknowledgment. I zoom in on the corner of the screen, trying to discern who she’s looking to for help. Jared’sface is instantly recognizable. I expect him to look uncomfortable, to at least avert his eyes. To stop Sierra’s humiliation.
But instead, he’s laughing, cackling, even, and throwing up a hand to high-five someone else. He doesn’t look like my sweet, kind baby brother. He looks like someone else entirely. He looks like a Player. I scan the circle for Jared. But he’s not there. Instead I find the easier target.
“What the hell?” I nearly scream, charging at Marla. All motion around us stops.
“What’s your problem, Jill?” she says, crossing her arms.
“My problem?” I scoff. “You hooked up with my brother! You can’t do that!”
She laughs. “Are you serious, Jill? It’s Road Rally. It doesn’tmeananything.”
“Marla, he’s mybrother.” I spit the word out like it’s poison. My head feels like it’s about to spin off my neck. A circle has formed around us. We have an audience.
“What is your deal?” Nikki screams. She’s come around to Marla’s side so they stand in front of me like a wall. “It’s ajoke.It’s not like she forced him. Right, Jared?”
The Players turn and face my little brother. There he is, standing at the back of the circle, leaning against the house, next to Nikki’s side door. And for the first time I see him for what he is becoming, just like all the others. He is tall, broad-shouldered, and flushed, awakened to what he’s been missing. He aches to expend all that pent-up, furious energy, just like the rest of us. But why does it have to be likethis?
Jared smirks. I wonder if this is when he decides that maybe his big sister Jill Newman isn’t so great after all. That he doesn’t need to keep up with me or play by my same rules. Hecan create his own without worrying about the consequences. “Yeah,” he says. “Just having fun.”
“See?” Nikki says. “Stop being dramatic.” I swear I can feel my heart break. My chest throbs and my throat tightens. And, then, suddenly, I don’t care. About the Players, about Nikki or Marla, or any of this. None of it makes sense. None of it is real. I see everything so clearly now.
“Jesus, Nikki,” I say. “Take a look at yourself. Gallivanting around like yourunthe Players, like yourunGold Coast. You know the only reason you’re class president is because Shailadiedand you took her place. If she were still alive, if we hadprotectedher, she’d have gotten elected sophomore year. And junior. And senior! She’d be Toastmaster. And you’d just beregular.”
Someone gasps and the air around us grows still and tense. Nikki’s eyes are wet and black, full of rage and fury. Her fists are clenched but she doesn’t say a word. She knows it’s true. I’ve struck a nerve and I can’t go back.
I know what I have to do.
I steady myself. “You know what?” I say slowly. I scan the circle, meeting eyes of people I’ve doused in ketchup, forced to perform vile skits, goaded into doing bitch work, into cheating on exams. Something deep inside my chest bursts into a million shards. “This is all bullshit.”
I pause and close my eyes, breathing in the cold night.
“We’re all just following rules and we don’t even know where they came from. We’re just trying to feel alive, to run away from everything. But none of this matters. It’s all made up. It’s all a lie.” I pause, realizing tears and snot are dripping down my nose. “We said this year was going to be different.” Asnort escapes me. “But Shaila is still dead. Graham is off somewhere claiming innocence and we’re all just...” Gasps ring out around the circle and I catch myself. No one knows about the blood, that someone else could be guilty.
Someone here, even.
I turn my head to the sky. It’s cloudy now, ominous and foreboding. I can’t see a thing. No one says a word and the only sounds come from the ocean crashing violently on the sand behind Nikki’s house. It beats like a heart. For the first time in a long time I am totally sure of the words that are about to come out of my mouth.
“I quit.”
They’re quiet but echo into the night. Nikki’s eyes narrow and she takes a step back. Marla’s mouth drops open in shock. Only Quentin speaks and when he does, he just lets out a slow, low “Whoa.”
I avoid looking at Henry, whose reaction I can’t quite stomach. I wait a beat and turn, walking slowly to the road, away from all this.
I quit.
