Page 10 of Wallflower

I level my sister with a glare. There’s no way someone in our family will ignore the ink on my back, but it’s a part of me I no longer wish to hide. I sat for hours to earn it, and I’m damn well proud. “You ready?” I say to her through the reflection.

“Hell yeah!” Chelsea swipes the keycard off the table by the door, tucking it into her clutch next to our secret pack of cigarettes and lighter. My phone’s locked away in my luggage,and it’s weirdly liberating to not be weighed down by the numerous cumbersome things women need to cart around with no fucking pockets.

Chelsea opens the door for me again, and we meander down the hall, back toward the dining room, the sound of the loudly closing door echoing through the silent hallway.

“Hey, Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s in your highlight reel?”

“My what?” What the hell is she getting at? Is she asking who I think about when I diddle my skittle?

“We talked about it in class. How when you die, you relive your best memories. I was just wondering who would be there for you? What are your favourite memories?”

“Wow, that’s not what I thought you meant. Umm…” For a minute I ponder the question while we stroll casually back to the dining room. “You,” I reply. “All my best memories are with you.”

A small smile spreads across Chelsea’s face. “Same,” she confirms. “Let’s make this a night worth remembering.”

My sister is rarely ever sentimental. Protective? Overbearing? Slightly condescending? Yes. Mushy-gushy? Never.

Instead of jabbing her about her impromptu wave of feelings, I tuck it away. Saving it for a day when I may need the reminder, and the strength it can offer me.

As we approach the room, music bleeds out into the hall. Heavy bass rattles the handles as we reach to pull the heavy wooden doors open.

The previously empty dance floor is now crowded with people, and the dancing has spilled over to any available area around the stage. My eyes meet Sam’s as he leans against the bar, and my breath catches. He’s changed his clothes, but thedeep red of his t-shirt makes his cobalt irises pop. He looks so sexy and laid-back in board shorts and skate shoes.

“Looks like he was waiting for you,” Chelsea says, bumping me with her bony elbow. “Go get him.”

I gulp, nerves swirling in my stomach. “Come with me? Sam can introduce you to his bartender friend.”

“Oh, finally decided to tell me his name, did you?”

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“I’m just kidding, I know you’re nervous.”

My cheeks flush as I take my first step, Chelsea following along next to me.

Abruptly, Tyler and Liam intercept us, causing me to stumble in these godforsaken shoes.

“And where have you two been?” Tyler drawls, lurking like a snake in the grass searching for weakened prey.

“The room,” Chelsea snaps, stepping up. “You know…since we don’t have our own.”

“Sucks to suck,” Liam snickers, brown, greasy hair swaying around his shoulders. If I had the nerve, I’d punch the motherfucker square in the throat.

“You’d know.” Chelsea retorts, pushing between them and dragging me along by the hand.

“Be careful,” Tyler sneers, “dressed like a couple of sluts, who knows what you’ll attract.” It’s like shaving all his hair off made him even more of a fucking asshole.

Chelsea whips us around so fast my head spins. “The more the merrier, fuckwad.”

Liam’s eyes shine. His ever-growing infatuation with my sister beams brightly as he no doubt pictures her with him and another guy. Tyler’s face contorts, disgust evidently plastered on his features.

“What’s the matter, bro? You can’t call me a slut then be grossed out when I say I want to be gang-banged in the brig. Youbrought it up.” She’s rendered him speechless, and is fucking glowing because of it. Turning back toward the bar, she flips her golden curls over her shoulder. “Let’s go get some dick, Rosie,” she directs to me, and I nod, baffled by her again.

Chelsea moves like liquid through the crowd as I try to keep up, the chunky heels working against me. They’re clunky and I wish I just wore my flats.