“Give her a job? To replace the one you took?” I’m yelling now, my voice too loud for the small car. It’s a good thing I’m not driving because if I was, we’d all be dead. I’d have lost control and smashed into whatever was closest, burying Ivy’s words in an explosion of glass and metal and shattered bodies. I’m angry enough for that to almost sound good. “My mother built that place up from the ground, Ivy. It was her life. It was all our lives. Now Autumn and I are working five jobs between us, and Ma can barely work, and all day you’ve been acting like none of that has anything to do with you. Just Oh, that’s too bad, sucks to be you guys.”
Ivy swipes fiercely at her wet cheeks. “I didn’t mean—I feel horrible about it. It’s why I told you, even though—”
“Even though what? Even though you turned my cousin into a drug dealer?”
Ivy’s face crumples, and a corner of my raging brain knows that was too far. But all I can think about now is Ma’s expression when she got slapped with the DeWitts’ lawsuit. “Overwaxed lane,” she’d said numbly, dropping heavily into a chair. Her knees had already started to bother her then, but we didn’t know yet that it was going to be a permanent problem. “And the thing is—they’re right. It was slippery. But I don’t understand why. I didn’t do anything different that day. I don’t know what happened.”
Ma wasn’t mad about the lawsuit, even though Patrick’s shoulder healed fine and the DeWitts were overreacting assholes with their It’s important to take a stand against irresponsible businesses crap. She felt guilty. Like she deserved to lose everything.
Then she did, and my cousin got backed into a corner enough that she made the worst decision of her life. When I think about the domino effect of Ivy’s stupidity, I almost can’t breathe. My entire life would be different if she’d minded her damn business and kept that baby oil in her bag where it belonged.
Baby oil. Jesus. Of all the possible ways to get your world destroyed, that has to be the most pointless.
“I’ll make it up to you—” Ivy starts.
“Oh yeah? How’re you gonna do that? Build a time machine and go back a few months to keep yourself from being an asshole?” I rub a hand across my forehead, hard, wishing I could scrub the entire story from my brain. “You know what the worst thing is, Ivy? It’s not only that you basically ruined my mother and were too cowardly to admit it. It’s that you were so goddamn petty. That was your big idea, huh? Your brilliant plan for getting back at Daniel. Who wouldn’t even be a problem if you could’ve managed, just once, to get your head out of your ass and not treat a stupid joke like the end of the world.”
The car falls silent. I can barely spare a thought for Cal, but the small part of me that’s not consumed with rage pities him for being trapped in this car. Then again, if it weren’t for Cal, none of us would be here, so fuck him, too.
“For what it’s worth,” Ivy finally says in a low voice, “I hate myself just as much as you hate me.”
“Not possible,” I spit out. “In case it’s not clear, Ivy—I’m done with you. You’re pathetic, and I don’t want to see or speak to you again for the rest of my life.”
She drops her head. “Oh, it’s clear.”
There’s nothing else to say. I almost can’t remember why we’re headed to Carlton High anymore, but as soon as we get there, I’m out. Cal and Ivy can both go to hell.
And I hope she burns there.
CAL
I wish that invisibility shield had been real. And soundproof. You wouldn’t think I’d need it anymore, since Mateo and Ivy have been silent since their fight. But it’s the kind of silence that fills your ears with a dull roar that’s somehow worse than screaming. By the time I pull into the parking lot at school, my head is throbbing from the pressure.
The lot is nearly empty except for Ivy’s car and a few other stragglers. Before I can even shift into park, Mateo brusquely says, “Can you pop the trunk?” When I do, he gets out of the car, grabs his backpack, closes the trunk, and leans into the still-open rear-seat door. I’m half-afraid he’s about to go off on Ivy again, but all he says is “Later, Cal.” Then he slams the door and takes off across the parking lot toward the back fence.
“Well, shit,” I say, gazing after him. “I didn’t think he was going to leave.”
Ivy slumps in her seat. “He can’t stand the sight of me.”