Candy Colored Sky, стр. 46
“So you and Gemma are like, for real, huh?” Jake and I haven’t had a tutoring session in a week so I feel behind on the latest school gossip. It almost always revolves around him and whomever he’s dating or just broke up with.
“I kinda think so. I mean, it’s weird, but she’s always so . . . interesting.” His eyes squint while he speaks and stares out the windshield. His epiphany makes me laugh.
“My God, I think you may have finally hit maturity. Yes, Jake,” I say, pausing to pat his shoulder like a proud papa. “Girls are in fact interesting.”
“Shut up. She’s hot too,” he adds, brushing me off, probably because he’s also experiencing actual feelings. I roll my eyes and pull my phone out to see if Eleanor’s texted me back. When I see she hasn’t, I breathe in deep through my nose in an attempt to undo the knot in my chest that has just gotten tighter.
“She’s fine, you know. I mean, not fine, but she’s okay.” Jake’s reassurance rolls off me like water.
“Yeah, probably,” I dismiss.
“No, seriously. I know she’s okay. That’s why Gemma skipped last hour. She went to hang out with her. They’re probably binge watching that island dating show or something.”
I blink at these new details, instantly jealous of Gemma. The sensation fills me up like an ever-expanding poison, and even though I’m logical enough to reason that it’s ridiculous, that I’m being unfair, I can’t help the feeling. All she has to do is write me back, but she doesn’t have time for that because she’s too busy watching dating paradise reality shows with Gemma. Gemma didn’t give up her bed last night.
I’m quiet for the rest of the ride home, and I’m pretty sure Jake can tell that I’m simmering because he lets me be. The Volkswagen is gone for the first time in two weeks, probably because someone had to pick Gemma up from school. Dale’s pickup truck is in our driveway when Jake stops in front of my house, and I vow to myself that I won’t so much as glance at the Trombley place for the rest of the day.
It takes me exactly six seconds to break that promise.
“Oh hey, I know you hate parties and shit, but Gemma just texted,” Jake hollers from his window, halting me halfway up my walkway. “There’s a bonfire at the Molinas’ place tonight after the game, and I guess Elle insists on going. You think maybe you wanna come just to keep an eye on her? With me, of course.”
My eyes flutter closed and I draw a quick breath to erase the childish bitterness from my face before turning to face him. I will be the only person looking out for her. I know what happens to Jake at parties, and his attention span does not become acute.
“Yeah. Pick me up on your way, after the game. And I can drive home.”
My offer earns me a grin from my friend, and he mutters something else about being here after eight but I’m no longer listening. I’m busy checking a window. A dark and empty window I know better than to look at.
Fourteen
I am probably the only teenager who is openly honest with his parent about going to a party where there will definitely be underage drinking and probably a lot of pot. I told my mom because I am going to be incredibly late. The party won’t even get going until 10 or 11 p.m., and I plan on making sure Eleanor makes it home in one piece. Why she is putting herself in this environment baffles me. There is nothing about the scene outside Jake’s car that says calming and good for someone going through a trauma.
This marks the third party of my high school experience. We roll up to the dirt lot next to the Molina house, and it’s as if nothing has changed since my first party two and a half years ago at the very same residence.
The Molina family is huge, seven kids in all. Three are in college, three are in high school, and the oldest is married and lives out of state. The most talked about parties in Oak Forest happen at the Molina house. The vacant lot was once slated to become a park, but that never happened, which makes it perfect for bonfires and messes. Plus, they’re on the outskirts enough that cops tend to look the other way since there isn’t anyone nearby to annoy with party noise.
The Molinas throw enormous parties every time their parents are out of town, which is at least a dozen times a year. They own several restaurants near the Indiana border and try to visit them each once a month. The Molina girls, freshmen twins, shatter every strict rule they’ve been imprisoned with whenever their brothers throw one of these parties. Honestly, I don’t know how someone hasn’t died at one of these ragers.
The music assaults my ears as soon as we step into the dirt from the peaceful quiet of Jake’s car. I am already miserable. Add it to the speaker-buzzing bass sounds and a dense layer of smoke from a poorly built pit fire, and I’m basically in a circle of hell.
“Loosen up, dude.” Jake walks behind me and grabs my shoulders, shaking them as if that is going to break through my social anxieties.
“I’ll relax when we find Gemma and Eleanor,” I say. I probably won’t relax, but at least it’ll ease the knot in my stomach.
“You are unnaturally responsible for her, you know?” Jake mocks me.
I scrunch my shoulders and glare at him while we make our way through the dusty field toward the blaze someone just tossed a new log on.
“I’m just being a good friend. That’s all,” I say, and for the most part,