Page 57 of Within Striking Distance
My chest constricts, and I draw in a sharp breath, trying to stave off the panic building inside—the lyrics are dangerously close to giving too many hints of my past. I scramble to think of a meaningless question to move back into our fun and flirty banter.
Blake: What’s a flavour of chocolate that should never have been invented?
Pixie: Vegemite chocolate, but don’t distract me. Blake, this song is amazing. I think it’s my new favourite.
Blake: Hold up, Vegemite chocolate? You’re shitting me. There’s no way that was ever a real flavour
Pixie: It was a limited edition, and it was disgusting!
Blake: I don’t believe you.
Pixie:
Pixie: Told you. Worst experience with food in my life… and I love Vegemite. But Vegemite and chocolate are a definite no-go.
I snort a laugh, shaking my head. Vegemite chocolate. Ew.
Pixie: You’re having a dinner party, and you have to invite three people… one dead, one fictional, and one of your idols. Who are you inviting?
Blake: Ooh, good one. Does my idol have to be alive or dead?
Pixie: Doesn’t matter.
Blake: Okay. Jim Morrison, Rambo, and Lionel Messi.
Pixie: I didn’t pick you as a fan of The Doors.
Blake: I don’t know why, but he just really interests me.
Blake: If you found out our life was a simulation, would you continue or end it?
Pixie: …
I watch the three dots bounce on the screen, then disappear. They reappear, only to disappear again.
Pixie: Does that mean everything that led us to this point was a simulation as well?
I consider her question. If everything I’ve been through until now was a simulation, I would’ve checked out years ago. But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t have moved to Beckford, and I wouldn’t have met her.
Blake: It was, but you didn’t find out it was a simulation until now. What would you do?
Pixie: I’d continue.
That pesky spark of hope blooms in my chest again. I know whatever happened between her and Everett’s dad must have ended badly for her to have fullcustody of Tinsley, and him to have supervised visits, but I never asked because Everett never seemed to want to talk about it. But to know she would still go through it for me makes me feel like maybe this isn’t completely one-sided.
Blake: I would, too.
A knock on the door steals my attention, and I frown as I get up to answer it. Emily knows Everett won’t be home until later, and I spoke to Zac earlier. It’s his sister’s birthday, so he and Noah were taking her to play mini-golf.
My eyes widen when I open the door. “Tori? What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I check over my sister’s shoulder, looking for her husband. “Where’s Sam?”
“Hi to you, too,” she says, stepping into my arms for a hug.
I give her a quick squeeze, then step back to let her into the house. She follows me into the living room, her eyes drifting around as she takes in the space, polite curiosity stretched over her discomfort. It kills me that there’s this distance between us. I know it’s my fault—I made things hard on her when we were both growing up.
After what happened with our parents, she could’ve let me go into care. At almost nineteen, she would’ve been well within her rights to, but she didn’t. She was there for me, and I threw it all in her face. I’m not proud of the person I used to be. Far from it.
I was on a fast track to destruction. Hanging around with the wrong people, getting into fights, drinking and taking drugs. Until I hit rock bottom and got slapped across the face with a wake-up call.
