Kevin laughs hard at his, so hard he coughs. Then he lifts his arms up in a deep stretch. “Well, I couldn’t get regular E from my supplier. So I got the liquid stuff instead. I’d better call that SOB and make sure he’s cool with that.”
Liquid ecstasy? I didn’t know that existed. That’ll be even easier for Lillia to slip into Reeve’s drink. “It works just the same as regular E?”
“Actually, it’s stronger.” Kevin reaches for his cell.
“Nice. I know Pat’ll be cool with that.” I quick take out the money from my pocket and hand it over to Kevin, before he has a chance to dial.
He shoots me daggers. “Not here,” Kevin barks, and looks over both of his shoulders. “Walk with me.”
So I put the money back into my pocket and follow him into town, feeling pretty stupid. We go over to the restaurant where Rennie works, Bow Tie, and head for the back door, where the kitchen is. You can hear all kinds of restaurant noise inside—dishes getting washed, pots and pans clanking around, guys shouting out orders. I’m figuring Kevin wants to do the deal here, because it’s pretty shadowy. I reach for my money again, but he waves me off and asks, “What’s your poison, Kitty Kat?”
Gross. “They aren’t going to serve me here.”
“I do business with some of the bartenders. We’ll be okay. So . . . let me guess.” He looks me up and down. “You’re a Sex on the Beach kind of girl.”
I roll my eyes. “Whiskey,” I say.
His face lights up. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wait. Can we do the deal here? I should get back to Pat. I don’t want him to freak out.”
“Come on my rounds with me tonight, and I won’t tell your brother you’re buying E off me and trying to use him for cover.” He sighs and looks around. “This island is so damn boring. I don’t know how people live here. Come on. Keep me company. You’re my friend’s baby sister, so I ain’t gonna try nothing. Hey, I’ll even knock five bucks off what I’m charging you. Come on, Kitty Kat. What else are you doing tonight?”
I’m not doing anything, but that’s beside the point. I just want my ecstasy and to go the hell home, not keep Kevin company on his drug runs. But I’ll take one for the team. For Mary. “All right, deal.”
I wait while Kevin struts into the kitchen. He comes out a few minutes later with two drinks from the bar. A beer for him and a whiskey for me. The glass is small, but the brown liquid is poured to the very top. I doubt it’s top shelf. Probably well booze, the cheap stuff.
“I like it with ice,” I say, just to be a snot. As I take the glass, some of the whiskey drips over the edge and onto my fingers. I lick them clean.
Kevin grins out the side of his mouth. “You are a sassy little Kitty Kat, aren’t you?”
Flirting with Kevin makes me want to barf, but I know that’s what I have to do to get what I want. And whatever. I’m good at it. I hiss and pretend to swipe at his face with my claw.
I expect Kevin to sit down with his beer. Instead he starts walking away from the restaurant. He tucks his beer up the sleeve of his jean jacket. “Next stop, the Jar Island Retirement Home.” I guess I make a face, because he says, “I’ve got a bunch of glaucoma patients in there who need the weed.”
I guess that’s sort of a mitzvah or whatever. Helping sick people smoke up. Noble, almost.
“All right,” I say. I take a sip of my whiskey and pick up the pace. “We don’t want to keep the grammys and grampys waiting.”
* * *
I spend two hours with Kevin and then walk him back to the ferry. The island’s dead, and I don’t have anything to do, so I decide to drive over to Middlebury and stop by Mary’s house. She keeps creeping into my mind, after that story she told us. Poor thing. It’s honestly a miracle that she doesn’t have PTSD or some shit.
I park outside her house and walk up the front steps. There’s a soft light on in the living room and the flashing light of a television. I press the doorbell and wait.
The volume goes down, but nobody comes to the door. I press it again, then lean over the railing and peek in the windows.
The house doesn’t look lived in, more like it got hastily closed up at the end of summer. There’s a telescope collapsed and lying on the floor. A chair with a sheet draped over it. Stacks of unopened mail sorted into teetering piles, some newspapers and catalogs. And about ten big black trash bags bulging with God knows what.
And then Mary’s aunt darts past the window, like she’s trying to hide. I get a prickly feeling in the small of my back as I shrink away from the glass. I lean over the railing and look up at Mary’s bedroom. A light is on, but it immediately clicks off.
I practically sprint down the stairs and back to my car.
CHAPTER THIRTY
LILLIA
ON MONDAY MORNING MR. PEABODY PASSES OUT THE homecoming ballots during homeroom.
No real surprises. There’s Rennie, who is the obvious shoo-in. Even if she wasn’t campaigning so hard, she’d still have it. She’s the queen of Jar High, just like she always wanted. Then there’s my name. Anybody who would vote for me will vote for Rennie. Even my own sister. There’s Melanie Renfro, who is known to be slutty, so she’ll probably get some votes from random guys. Carrie Pierce, who is way into theater and basically only got nominated because people wanted an “alternative” homecoming queen. Last there is Ashlin. Ashlin who wants this almost as bad as Rennie, but she could never say so, at least not out loud. She wouldn’t dare. Ashlin will get a good number of votes, because she’s nice to everyone—to their face. She’s never beaten Rennie at anything. Until now. I’m actually happy for her, that she’ll get to beat her this one time.
I’m about to check off Rennie’s name, when, next to me, Rennie raises her hand.
“Yes, Ms. Holtz?” Mr. Peabody says. He has his arms crossed; he looks amused already. Teachers love Rennie. They think she’s a spitfire, a ball of energy.
“Can I just say one thing, Mr. Peabody?” She doesn’t wait for him to say yes. She swivels around in her seat to face the rest of the class. “Before everybody votes, I just want to remind you guys of something. Homecoming queen isn’t a beauty contest, and it’s not about popularity. It’s about dedication, and school spirit, and making this a better place to go to school.”
Liquid ecstasy? I didn’t know that existed. That’ll be even easier for Lillia to slip into Reeve’s drink. “It works just the same as regular E?”
“Actually, it’s stronger.” Kevin reaches for his cell.
“Nice. I know Pat’ll be cool with that.” I quick take out the money from my pocket and hand it over to Kevin, before he has a chance to dial.
He shoots me daggers. “Not here,” Kevin barks, and looks over both of his shoulders. “Walk with me.”
So I put the money back into my pocket and follow him into town, feeling pretty stupid. We go over to the restaurant where Rennie works, Bow Tie, and head for the back door, where the kitchen is. You can hear all kinds of restaurant noise inside—dishes getting washed, pots and pans clanking around, guys shouting out orders. I’m figuring Kevin wants to do the deal here, because it’s pretty shadowy. I reach for my money again, but he waves me off and asks, “What’s your poison, Kitty Kat?”
Gross. “They aren’t going to serve me here.”
“I do business with some of the bartenders. We’ll be okay. So . . . let me guess.” He looks me up and down. “You’re a Sex on the Beach kind of girl.”
I roll my eyes. “Whiskey,” I say.
His face lights up. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wait. Can we do the deal here? I should get back to Pat. I don’t want him to freak out.”
“Come on my rounds with me tonight, and I won’t tell your brother you’re buying E off me and trying to use him for cover.” He sighs and looks around. “This island is so damn boring. I don’t know how people live here. Come on. Keep me company. You’re my friend’s baby sister, so I ain’t gonna try nothing. Hey, I’ll even knock five bucks off what I’m charging you. Come on, Kitty Kat. What else are you doing tonight?”
I’m not doing anything, but that’s beside the point. I just want my ecstasy and to go the hell home, not keep Kevin company on his drug runs. But I’ll take one for the team. For Mary. “All right, deal.”
I wait while Kevin struts into the kitchen. He comes out a few minutes later with two drinks from the bar. A beer for him and a whiskey for me. The glass is small, but the brown liquid is poured to the very top. I doubt it’s top shelf. Probably well booze, the cheap stuff.
“I like it with ice,” I say, just to be a snot. As I take the glass, some of the whiskey drips over the edge and onto my fingers. I lick them clean.
Kevin grins out the side of his mouth. “You are a sassy little Kitty Kat, aren’t you?”
Flirting with Kevin makes me want to barf, but I know that’s what I have to do to get what I want. And whatever. I’m good at it. I hiss and pretend to swipe at his face with my claw.
I expect Kevin to sit down with his beer. Instead he starts walking away from the restaurant. He tucks his beer up the sleeve of his jean jacket. “Next stop, the Jar Island Retirement Home.” I guess I make a face, because he says, “I’ve got a bunch of glaucoma patients in there who need the weed.”
I guess that’s sort of a mitzvah or whatever. Helping sick people smoke up. Noble, almost.
“All right,” I say. I take a sip of my whiskey and pick up the pace. “We don’t want to keep the grammys and grampys waiting.”
* * *
I spend two hours with Kevin and then walk him back to the ferry. The island’s dead, and I don’t have anything to do, so I decide to drive over to Middlebury and stop by Mary’s house. She keeps creeping into my mind, after that story she told us. Poor thing. It’s honestly a miracle that she doesn’t have PTSD or some shit.
I park outside her house and walk up the front steps. There’s a soft light on in the living room and the flashing light of a television. I press the doorbell and wait.
The volume goes down, but nobody comes to the door. I press it again, then lean over the railing and peek in the windows.
The house doesn’t look lived in, more like it got hastily closed up at the end of summer. There’s a telescope collapsed and lying on the floor. A chair with a sheet draped over it. Stacks of unopened mail sorted into teetering piles, some newspapers and catalogs. And about ten big black trash bags bulging with God knows what.
And then Mary’s aunt darts past the window, like she’s trying to hide. I get a prickly feeling in the small of my back as I shrink away from the glass. I lean over the railing and look up at Mary’s bedroom. A light is on, but it immediately clicks off.
I practically sprint down the stairs and back to my car.
CHAPTER THIRTY
LILLIA
ON MONDAY MORNING MR. PEABODY PASSES OUT THE homecoming ballots during homeroom.
No real surprises. There’s Rennie, who is the obvious shoo-in. Even if she wasn’t campaigning so hard, she’d still have it. She’s the queen of Jar High, just like she always wanted. Then there’s my name. Anybody who would vote for me will vote for Rennie. Even my own sister. There’s Melanie Renfro, who is known to be slutty, so she’ll probably get some votes from random guys. Carrie Pierce, who is way into theater and basically only got nominated because people wanted an “alternative” homecoming queen. Last there is Ashlin. Ashlin who wants this almost as bad as Rennie, but she could never say so, at least not out loud. She wouldn’t dare. Ashlin will get a good number of votes, because she’s nice to everyone—to their face. She’s never beaten Rennie at anything. Until now. I’m actually happy for her, that she’ll get to beat her this one time.
I’m about to check off Rennie’s name, when, next to me, Rennie raises her hand.
“Yes, Ms. Holtz?” Mr. Peabody says. He has his arms crossed; he looks amused already. Teachers love Rennie. They think she’s a spitfire, a ball of energy.
“Can I just say one thing, Mr. Peabody?” She doesn’t wait for him to say yes. She swivels around in her seat to face the rest of the class. “Before everybody votes, I just want to remind you guys of something. Homecoming queen isn’t a beauty contest, and it’s not about popularity. It’s about dedication, and school spirit, and making this a better place to go to school.”
