tenses. No one is going anywhere near Rachel.
No one.
Chapter 16
Rachel
HE NEVER CALLED. I WAITED. And he still never called. What I have a hard time comprehending is why I grieve for something that obviously was never mine to begin with.
A few tables away, my brothers laugh. Each of them holds a bottled beer. In order to hide our youngest brothers’ involvement in underage drinking, Gavin and Jack stand in front of West and Ethan. Cold air drifts into the bottom of the large white tent housing the hundreds of guests and chills my ankles. The overhead heaters keep me warm, but the alcohol keeps my brothers warmer.
A votive candle floats in a crystal bowl full of water and translucent rocks. My hand hovers over the single flickering flame. Every white-cloth-covered table contains one of these centerpieces. I’d bet I’m the only guest wondering how close I can place my hand to the flame before I get burned.
Seated at the table farthest from the couples slow-dancing in front of the stage, I cross one leg over the other. It’s a continual fidget meant to keep my limbs from falling asleep, and each time I move, I smooth out the material of my golden gown as if wrinkles will be the death of me. I think I look kinda pretty tonight, which is why every time I glimpse my reflection in the mirror my eyes water. I wanted Isaiah to see me this way.
“Would you like to dance?”
My heart beats twice and I glance up, hoping and praying that somehow Isaiah has found me, even though I’m at an exclusive New Year’s Eve party at the Lieutenant Mayor’s house. I mean, it’s possible. At least it’s possible in the daydreams I’ve had since I sat at this corner table over an hour ago. I force a wannabe smile when I find Brian Toddsworth staring down at me. A month ago, I would have loved for him to ask me to dance. Today... Why didn’t Isaiah call?
I shrug my bare shoulders while shaking my head. Heat flushes my face when I realize I have yet to answer and that I’m conveying so many different body language signs that it probably appears I’m having a seizure. “No, thank you,” I barely whisper.
Brian belongs in a different realm of popular than me, and the thought of saying the wrong thing and becoming a laughingstock makes my insides squirm. As if he’s shocked by the response, Brian’s head rears back. “Are you sure?”
“Nice party, Brian.” My twin, Ethan, moseys over from his seat with my brothers. All of whom are watching Brian and me closely. Sort of like how vultures watch the last twitch of roadkill.
Brian extends his fist to Ethan and they knuckle bump. They’ve been friends since kindergarten. Brian and I’ve been friends since never.
“The party’s awful,” says Brian. “Everyone from school is at Sarah’s. Spending New Year’s schmoozing for my parents blows. Part of me hopes Dad loses the primary next spring.”
Ethan jerks his head in my direction as if I’m a five-year-old who can’t follow a conversation. “Whatcha doing with Rachel?”
Brian’s cheeks redden. “Your mom mentioned to my mom that no one was talking to Rachel, and you know what happened last weekend, so I’m not in a position to disagree.”
Wow, Brian didn’t even try to pretend I wasn’t a pity dance. When my heels click on the temporary wooden floor of the tent, the pair evidently remembers my existence.
Ethan gestures at Brian then to me with his beer. “Can you try to have some tact when it comes to Rach? She is my sister.”
Twin.
I prefer the word
twin.
Gavin, Jack and West are my brothers. I feel a special connection with Ethan. Brian acknowledges me with a glance. “I meant no disrespect. My parents grounded me when they found my pot, and if I do what Mom wants she’ll back off.”
I stare at my hands laced in my lap. I’ve always wanted to be told that dancing with me is a punishment reserved for the severest of offenders. Brian, I guess, rethinks his words and backtracks. “It’s not that
No one.
Chapter 16
Rachel
HE NEVER CALLED. I WAITED. And he still never called. What I have a hard time comprehending is why I grieve for something that obviously was never mine to begin with.
A few tables away, my brothers laugh. Each of them holds a bottled beer. In order to hide our youngest brothers’ involvement in underage drinking, Gavin and Jack stand in front of West and Ethan. Cold air drifts into the bottom of the large white tent housing the hundreds of guests and chills my ankles. The overhead heaters keep me warm, but the alcohol keeps my brothers warmer.
A votive candle floats in a crystal bowl full of water and translucent rocks. My hand hovers over the single flickering flame. Every white-cloth-covered table contains one of these centerpieces. I’d bet I’m the only guest wondering how close I can place my hand to the flame before I get burned.
Seated at the table farthest from the couples slow-dancing in front of the stage, I cross one leg over the other. It’s a continual fidget meant to keep my limbs from falling asleep, and each time I move, I smooth out the material of my golden gown as if wrinkles will be the death of me. I think I look kinda pretty tonight, which is why every time I glimpse my reflection in the mirror my eyes water. I wanted Isaiah to see me this way.
“Would you like to dance?”
My heart beats twice and I glance up, hoping and praying that somehow Isaiah has found me, even though I’m at an exclusive New Year’s Eve party at the Lieutenant Mayor’s house. I mean, it’s possible. At least it’s possible in the daydreams I’ve had since I sat at this corner table over an hour ago. I force a wannabe smile when I find Brian Toddsworth staring down at me. A month ago, I would have loved for him to ask me to dance. Today... Why didn’t Isaiah call?
I shrug my bare shoulders while shaking my head. Heat flushes my face when I realize I have yet to answer and that I’m conveying so many different body language signs that it probably appears I’m having a seizure. “No, thank you,” I barely whisper.
Brian belongs in a different realm of popular than me, and the thought of saying the wrong thing and becoming a laughingstock makes my insides squirm. As if he’s shocked by the response, Brian’s head rears back. “Are you sure?”
“Nice party, Brian.” My twin, Ethan, moseys over from his seat with my brothers. All of whom are watching Brian and me closely. Sort of like how vultures watch the last twitch of roadkill.
Brian extends his fist to Ethan and they knuckle bump. They’ve been friends since kindergarten. Brian and I’ve been friends since never.
“The party’s awful,” says Brian. “Everyone from school is at Sarah’s. Spending New Year’s schmoozing for my parents blows. Part of me hopes Dad loses the primary next spring.”
Ethan jerks his head in my direction as if I’m a five-year-old who can’t follow a conversation. “Whatcha doing with Rachel?”
Brian’s cheeks redden. “Your mom mentioned to my mom that no one was talking to Rachel, and you know what happened last weekend, so I’m not in a position to disagree.”
Wow, Brian didn’t even try to pretend I wasn’t a pity dance. When my heels click on the temporary wooden floor of the tent, the pair evidently remembers my existence.
Ethan gestures at Brian then to me with his beer. “Can you try to have some tact when it comes to Rach? She is my sister.”
Twin.
I prefer the word
twin.
Gavin, Jack and West are my brothers. I feel a special connection with Ethan. Brian acknowledges me with a glance. “I meant no disrespect. My parents grounded me when they found my pot, and if I do what Mom wants she’ll back off.”
I stare at my hands laced in my lap. I’ve always wanted to be told that dancing with me is a punishment reserved for the severest of offenders. Brian, I guess, rethinks his words and backtracks. “It’s not that
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