“I’m Nick,” the guy said, his eyes darting from Alex’s hair to her chest. The Alex Effect was clearly washing over him. “What’s your name?”
“Alexandria,” she said, twisting her long hair. “But you can call me Alex.”
“Okay,Alex. Do you go to Wellington High?”
Alex shook her head. “Nope.” Her mouth popped on thep. “Seminole Ridge.”
“Ah, a Loxahatchee girl.” Nick looked intrigued.
I listened as Nick and his friend Dylan chatted Alex up as the line to the Sbarro shortened. All of us were pretty used to Alex getting attention and lost interest quickly.
“ … so, Loxahatchee Alex. Can I get your number?”
I had tuned out most of their conversation while staring at the menu board as we waited, but this made me look up. Nick was grinning at Alex, his phone outstretched. He looked eager. Cassandra wasn’t paying attention, but Victoria’s eyes were locked on their sister.
Alex paused, her lips pursed as she considered Nick again, her eyes settling on his phone. I waited for her to smile and say,Sorry, I have a boyfriend.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she shrugged and reached for his phone, typing in her number. My mouth hung open in disbelief, and I felt an upsurge of anger. What was shedoing?
“What are you doing?” Victoria whispered to her, echoing my thoughts.
“Stop,” Alex hissed, scowling at her before she handed the phone back to Nick. Nick looked delighted.
“I’ll text you,” he told her, as he grabbed his tray and disappeared.
Victoria waited until they were far enough away to not be overheard before she rounded on her sister. “Did you give him a fake number?” she asked, her face accusatory.
Alex raised her eyebrow. “No. Why would I?”
Victoria blinked at her. “I don’t know, because you have a boyfriend?” she said, gaze drifting to me. “What aboutWill?”
It was written all over her face, the torch that Victoria carried for my brother. I supposed it made sense. Alex and Victoria were sisters. They looked alike. Of course they had similar taste in boys. Even Cassandra thought Will was cute. I’d always thought Victoria probably did too, but this looked like more than a little crush. Victoria’s face was filled with outrage and shock, as if watching what Alex had done had physically hurt her.
“What about him?” Alex followed Victoria’s gaze and noticed my stricken expression.
“Oh my god, Vicky. Look atherface. You really need to lighten up.” Alex rolled her eyes.
She turned to me. “It’s not a big deal, Rose,” Alex repeated, looking me dead in the eye, her tone firmer this time. It was clear she wanted me to agree with her. To deescalate the situation that Victoria was trying to create.“Right?”
It had felt gross to watch. To see Alex pushing out her chest and smirking at a guy who wasn’t my brother. It felt disloyal to absolve Alex of any guilt, to make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But both she and Cassandra were staring, waiting for me to say something.
“Right,” I repeated, but my mouth tasted horrible. Alex smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder, more relaxed as she ordered a piece of supreme pizza.
I wasn’t hungry anymore. All I could think about was that guy sitting there with Alex’s number, knowing he was going to text her, and knowing Alex wanted him to. Would she answer? Would they go back and forth, flirting, while my brother was unaware?
My gut soured.
8
I spent the rest of the day reading Hazel’s words, crammed into the spaces between my own, and ripping off a hundred pink Post-it notes covered in her thoughts. It was strange, seeing how similar her writing was to mine. The same phrasings that we used, a casualty of being raised by the same people, albeit a decade apart.
I had made it to the mall scene in the middle of the book. The beginning mainly painted a portrait of our family. The Sterlings (subtle, I know) were every bit as quirky and close-knit as we had been in real life, which was one of the things that angered people the most. They thought I had romanticized our upbringing. That I had repressed, or actively edited out, all the parts that had supposedly caused Will to snap. An honest account of a once-happy family didn’t suit their villain narrative.
But Hazel was the ideal reader I didn’t even know I had. She had delighted in my retelling. In the margins, she had commented on every happy memory, adding smiley faces next to any mention of the character Violet, her stand-in, and a little heart next to my character, Lily.
When I got to the scene where Angelica Smiley gave the random guy her number at the pizza stand, Hazel’s commentary was scribbled in aggressively.
