The Telling by Alexandra Sirowy Page B

herself queen. Duncan doesn’t seem to notice. He’s unshaven, giving him an older, dangerous look. His feet are squared and he’s swaying like someone winding himself up for a fight. Duncan with his hard and shiny exterior, a glittery Easter egg of a boy, doesn’t seem like someone who cracks after seeing the body of a dead girl he knew only superficially.
    Becca cups her hand around my ear. “Not everyone can deal,” she whispers. “Seeing a corpse.” With her face this close, she looks like shedid when we were ten and she used to whisper secrets about her dad’s affair and her parents’ fighting.
    Willa and Carolynn are at the breakfast nook, each facing away from the other. I throw my arms around Willa and even though she’s not a hugger, she squeezes me back. “I called you three times,” I tell her.
    Her features look naked without glasses, and by the gentle squint of her eyes I know she isn’t wearing contacts. “I saw. Sorry. I wanted to think through some stuff before we talked,” she answers quietly. Tiny blue plastic barrettes I haven’t seen in years pin her bangs. Willa’s angry with me. Why else would she avoid my calls, need to think through what she wanted to say, and then show up for a face-to-face?
    â€œJosh,” Becca squeals brightly. He’s all smiles, bobbing head and waving hand like he’s a small-town mayor greeting voters. He dodges a group of soccer players calling him over for shots. He delivers hellos to us as the kitchen goes quiet.
    Only Duncan’s raised fist gripping the bottle is visible over the sea of heads. “Here’s to my best buddy, Josh, who always has my back, even when it gets him a broken nose and a split lip ’cause I talked shit about some senior d-bags frosh year.” Applause fills the kitchen.
    A strange noise comes from Carolynn’s throat, and then in a deep, flat pitch meant to imitate Duncan’s, she says, “Here’s to Josh, who throws house parties so I can drink my face off like some alcoholic Neanderthal.” Josh reaches to take Carolynn’s hand.
    â€œDon’t get your panties in a wad.” She holds her hands up in a state of embarrassed agitation. “I’m just messing around, okay?” She hugs herself and cuts a straight line, the crowd parting for her.I watch Josh as he watches Carolynn escape into the backyard. He isn’t himself tonight either. His tan skin isn’t as warmly hued. There are twin frown lines between his brows. And there’s something less tangible that’s off, like his usual aura of well-being is calibrated wrong. He meets my eyes. They are light blue like the shallows of the sea. Infinitely compassionate.
    â€œShe’s freaked out from yesterday and it’s just easy to take it out on Duncan,” he explains.
    â€œEveryone is so bumming me out,” Becca says, giving a little stomp of her heel. She digs through her purse, unceremoniously pushing Winkie and Twinkie aside until she comes up with the flask of schnapps. She jiggles it, is reminded that it’s empty, and without a word, veers toward a group of popular junior girls passing around a bottle. Within seconds she’s surrounded, the girls enraptured by her guest appearance. Becca beams, motions to her shoes, and gestures as she recounts some exploit. Her fans laugh, delighted, each made to feel special with a brush of an arm or a compliment. Becca smiles blissfully when she’s given a bag of miniature marshmallows and control of the bottle. The natives lay sacrifices at their priestess’s feet.
    Willa mutters that she needs to lie down. Josh produces a key from his jean pocket. “I lock my bedroom so I don’t end up with random couples in there,” he says in an apologetic way. “You can use it, though.” Willa starts toward the rear staircase. I should follow. She’s my best friend and she looks like