LITMIR.BIZ

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my skin? “Nothing. I’m not stupid.”

      “I know you’re not. Sometimes I think you’re too smart for your own good. Your intelligence isn’t the problem. Your impulsiveness is. Your anger is.”

      I snorted. “Don’t you lecture me on anger. I was there when you went after Drew. I know what you would’ve done to him if those guys hadn’t pulled you off. And I know what those guys would’ve done to you if there hadn’t been an audience.” I remembered how bruised and bloody he’d been, and how much worse Drew had looked. Most people went through life not knowing whether or not they could kill somebody, but Gabriel knew.

      “You’re not going without me.”

      “Fine. I won’t go.”

      “Good.”

      We stared at each other, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. I was lying, and he probably knew it, but I was still going to try to sell it. If he was stupid enough to show up knowing what would happen to him, then let him. Him getting beaten up was more of a given than me being attacked.

      We sat there in silence. Usually, we spent the time talking. Mostly we talked about Magda, but sometimes we talked about other things. This was the first time that neither of us had anything to say.

      A little while later Gabriel rolled to his feet. “I have to go to work.” He brushed grass off his jeans and picked up his backpack.

      I stood as well. “Gabe...”

      He looked at me. “Yeah?”

      “I...I don’t like feeling like you’re mad at me.”

      His shoulders slumped. He dropped the backpack on the grass again and stepped across his sister’s grave to stand directly in front of me. I wasn’t prepared for him to wrap his arms around me and pull me close. He smelled like sunshine and fabric softener with a touch of sandalwood. I wound my arms around his waist, pressing my hands against his back. Holding him was like holding strength. I could feel it seeping through my clothes, slipping beneath my skin and into my bones. The sadness and helplessness that usually threatened to overwhelm me disappeared. I couldn’t even find any anger in my heart.

      He rested his cheek against my head. “Please stay away from those guys. I can’t lose you too.”

      Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wasn’t going to cry on him again, and I wasn’t going to let him see how much his words affected me. I couldn’t let him see my feelings for him, because I was his little sister’s best friend and I knew the love he felt for me was only friendship. I didn’t want to lose him. He wasn’t just all I had left of Magda. He was all I had left period.

      * * *

      Like most of the wealthier families in our town, the Bentleys lived on Smith Street. It might have a common name, but Smith Street was one of the oldest streets in town. You could tell how old the houses were by how they were built. The newer houses were large and sprawling, usually white or bluish gray. The older houses—the ones that had been there for a century or more—were red brick or gray stone. The Bentleys lived in a house that was brick that had been stuccoed over.

      Zoe and I arrived there around ten o’clock Saturday night. I didn’t live on Smith Street, or anywhere near it. My family lived in one of the newer suburbs of town. My mother was an accountant and my father was an engineer. We weren’t poor, but we weren’t the Bentleys. Mags and I were top of our class in our old school, and we were able to get scholarships. Our parents somehow managed to scrape together the rest of the money for tuition. Magda’s grades had slipped after the rape—to the point where the school was going to kick her out. Her suicide saved them the trouble, the unfeeling bastards.

      “Are you ready to do this?” Zoe asked. “I mean, it’s gotta be painful.”

      I wanted to say that sometimes pain was better than feeling nothing, but that was really so melodramatic. I shrugged. “It’s okay.” I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish by going to that damn party. Maybe it was penance for letting Magda down. Maybe I wanted to show that I wasn’t afraid. Maybe I thought I could possibly stop another girl from being raped. Maybe I just didn’t want to sit home alone.

      We walked up the flagstone path. Zoe had driven and promised me she wasn’t going to drink. It was a relief to know that I probably wouldn’t have to worry about her. Unfortunately, I still had to worry about pretty much every other girl there.

      It was a warm night, and I was wearing cropped jeans and a blouse. I didn’t wear dresses or skirts anymore.

      We rang the doorbell. We could hear the music inside the house. It was loud, but not so loud that the neighbors would call the police. Not that it would matter if they did. The Bentleys, the Weeks, the Henrys and the Carsons were important families, which apparently entitled them to behave in ways that would get the rest of us in trouble. They were exempt from any kind of responsibility, and that extended to their sons.

      The door opened. Standing in the open frame in jeans and a T-shirt that probably cost more than my entire outfit was Jason. A year ago I would’ve described him as cute. I might’ve even wanted him to pay attention to me. Now his face had as much appeal as a bowl of maggots. If he ever touched me, I would probably take a cheese grater to the spot just to get rid of the taint.

      He smiled when he saw us, though it faltered a little when he looked at me. “Hey,” he said, standing back so we could step inside. “Glad you could make it.”

      I followed Zoe inside. She smiled and thanked him for inviting us. I couldn’t do anything more than nod.

      “Do you want a soda or anything?” he asked, leading us deeper into the house. The floor looked like marble, and the staircase was wide enough to drive a car up.

      “Sure,” Zoe said.

      “Do you have anything in cans?” I asked. There was no way I was going to let him bring me a glass.

      He shot me a glance as though he could read my mind. “Sure. Come into the kitchen.”

      The kitchen was just as perfect as the rest of the house. There wasn’t even a crumb on the stove. A stack of pizza boxes sat on the counter, and I could smell the cheesy, tomatoey goodness.

      I wasn’t going to eat anything, either.

      Jason opened the wide, stainless-steel fridge. “Help yourself.”

      Zoe took a can of Sprite. I reached in and grabbed a can of diet Dr Pepper. “Thanks.”

      He closed the fridge door. The action made him step closer toward me. Instinctively I lurched backward, banging my hip against the counter in my effort to avoid contact.

      Jason frowned. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

      I forced myself to meet his gaze. “You didn’t.” Scare me? No. Repulse me? Yes.

      He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but then a small group of people burst into the kitchen. They were all in our class, though one of the girls was a junior.

      “Hey, Jay, where’s the beer?” one of the guys asked.

      Jason went to get it for them, and I took that as my opportunity to escape. Zoe and I followed the music and conversation downstairs into a large finished basement that had the biggest television I’ve ever seen and a pool table. Patio doors opened up to the backyard, where there was a pool and hot tub. There were kids in each.

      Zoe turned to me. “This house is fricking amazing.”

      “Yeah,” I agreed through clenched teeth. The house was gorgeous.

      “Hey, there’s Anna and Caitlin. Want to go say hi?”

      “Yeah.” I meant it. I was happy to see the two of them, and not just because there was safety in numbers.

      The two girls looked just as happy to see us, and they immediately started talking about how they’d been practicing what they learned in class.

      “I

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