Page 5 of Our Crooked Hearts
CHAPTER TWO
The suburbs
Right now
My phone rang and the sound of it drilled into my dreams, disguised as the screech of Nate’s brakes, as the scream I didn’t have time to let go of, as the cry of some night bird flying above me, keeping pace as I followed a girl pale as a fallen star through the black woods. Finally it tugged me toward consciousness, sleep receding like salt water.
I lay there a second, blinking the images away. Ineverremembered my dreams. Ever. No one believed me when I told them that, but it was true. I peeked at my phone screen through one eye before answering.
“Look who’s not dead.” Amina’s voice was acid bright. “Were my fifteen texts not enough? Did you need twenty?”
“Don’t yell at me,” I said pathetically. My mouth ached. The dream still coated my skin like Vaseline. “I had a long night.”
I drained the water glass left by the bed, then told my best friend the story. The party, the breakup, the girl in the road. My failed attempt to sneak in. I could feel her getting worked up as I talked.
“I’m gonna kill him!” she said when I was through. “Did you see what he was drinking last night?Absinthe.” Her voice dripped with good-kid horror. Amina had big tattletale energy. “To be fair it was probably vodka with green food coloring, but still. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Seriously.”
“Yeah. You sound fine.”
There was a note in her voice I couldn’t quite read. “So? What’s wrong with that?”
“Just… you can be pissed, you know? Youshouldbe. He could’ve killed you.”
“Iampissed,” I said. Wasn’t I? I poked at the feeling like it was a toothache.
She sighed. “Anyway. Nate sucks. I can’t believe your mom caught you coming in. Was it awful?”
I scrubbed at my eyes. “It was fine. Why is everyone so scared of her all of a sudden?”
Amina paused for what I assumed was comic effect, but when she spoke again her voice was darker. More direct. “You know you can always come to my house, right? If you ever need to.”
I already stayed at her place all the time. We used to switch off houses on Saturday nights, but a couple of years ago she’d started making excuses not to sleep at mine. She was one of those routine-addicted people—the multistep skin care, the specific tea made specifically by her father, the two pillows she had to bring with her just to fall asleep—so I hadn’t pressed. But now I frowned. “Yeah, I know. But why would I need to?”
Another pause, then: “This girl you saw. She wasnaked? Like, completely?”
I narrowed my eyes at the subject change, but again I didn’t press. “Yep.”
“Standing in the middle of the road.”
“I guess. I didn’t see that part, I was too busy worrying I was gonna die.”
Her voice dropped forty degrees. “Iwillkill him.”
“Not if my dad gets there first.”
“Or your mom. You know she’d help you hide a body.”
“She would’ve killed the body she’s forcing you to hide.”
“What I do find interesting, though,” she said craftily, “is the part where the hot guy from across the street came to your rescue.”
“Amina,” I said warningly.
“Yes?”
“Just… don’t get too excited.”
