I stand silent, a little stunned; she loads her purse and backpack over her shoulders. Finally, when she does hit the stairs, I speak.

“Are you crazy? I mean…like, should I be concerned that you’re actually crazy? Because that…whatever you just did there?” I mimic her wave between us. “That was kinda crazy.”

She points her finger at me, and her body is actually shaking a little. “Your ass stays home tonight,” she says. I salute her when she turns around, and when I hear her door slam shut, I can’t help but laugh, hard.

My mom comes down just as I’m getting ready to head to class for the day, and I can tell that questions are still begging to be cleared off her chest. But Leah’s here, so I let my daughter throw me a block on this one. And then I get an idea.

“Hey, are you home tonight? Book club or anything?” I ask, my mom’s eyes squinting as she nods.

“I’m home,” she says, her glance sideways and suspicious.

“Would you mind if I go out, for just a few hours, after bedtime? Paige is trying to mend some bridges with her sister, and I get the sense she kind of wants my support,” I lie. I just lied to my mom, and I swear to god she knows. My lips are twitching, and I’m about to ruin it with a smile, when my mom agrees.

“I’ll be home,” she says, moving beyond me and gathering her lunch together with Leah’s for their day at the church. “You should go out more, you know? I can help with things. And it’s good for you. Maybe…maybe wear something nice.”

I wince when her innuendo hits my ear. As many questions as my mom has, she also likes the idea of a girl catching my interest. Which must mean there’s something about Paige that’s okay with my mom.

“Thanks,” I say, leaving before we get into any more detail. I plan on looking good. But I’m not going because I’m full of hope—I’m going because Paige is going to be ticked as hell when I show up.

Which…gives me goddamned hope.

Paige

If there is one thing I’ve always liked about Cass’s boyfriend, it’s his willingness to help me get drunk when I need to. There’s a very loose ID policy at Sally’s, and when Ty orders up rounds, the questions never seem to come. He’s twenty-two—and he’s in a wheelchair. If he wants a pitcher for the table, nobody’s arguing with him. Wrong as it is, it’s still a fact. And I’m cashing in on it tonight.

I need to be drunk to have this conversation with Cass.

“So let me understand this better—Chandra basically kicked you out of the house?” Cass is shouting, and I can’t help but look around the crowded bar, sure someone heard her. I hate that I’ve become so paranoid.

“Yes,” I say, taking a big gulp from my mug, emptying it, and filling it more. Not drunk enough. Nowhere near drunk enough. “No,” I continue, waving down a cute guy walking by. He has four shots in his hand; I take one from him, then stand to kiss him on the cheek. It works, and he lets me drink another. “Yes, no, sort of,” I say, waving the guy away so I can get back to my sister.

“Sorry,” Cass shrugs at him over my shoulder. I turn around and the guy is still standing there—I stand up and kiss him one more time, a little sexier, but still on the cheek. Who knows, I may need him for more shots later tonight. It seems to make him happy, because he walks backward toward the bar and keeps his eyes on me. Like there’s a shot in hell of that going anywhere.

“Yeah, I’m way confused,” Cass says, shaking her head. She’s feeling her buzz; I’m jealous. “I thought you and Chandra were like…” she holds up her fingers, crossing them, and makes a clicking sound. “You know…tight.”

“We were never tight, Cass. Not really,” I say.

“Fuck that. You were tight enough to tell her my personal shit,” she bites. She’s been trying really hard to forgive me, but sometimes—it just comes out. I wish she wouldn’t try all the time. If I’m pissed at someone, I let it all come out. And then when I’m done, that’s when I go back to being nice to them. Wishy-washy isn’t me. I’m hot or I’m cold. Lukewarm is stupid.

I grimace at my sister, and take another drink.

“Anyway…” I say, knowing if Cass knew everything she’d drop the wronged act and start kissing my ass. “I saw some…things, and despite what you think, I’m not really happy about how she treats you, and I stood up to her. In my own sort of way,” I say. Part of me wants to just pull out my phone, show her the pictures of Chandra passed out, the drugs, tell her about the blackmail—I take another drink instead.