Page 110 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

angled unnaturally toward the sky. A dead beetle. In the
window reflection, Greta saw her black eyeliner smudged
around her eyes. Face pale, her lipstick long rubbed away.
She was a human train wreck, an embarrassment. Rachel
couldn’t get her home fast enough. A shower. Quiet.
A place where she could close her door and pick through
all the little shards.
Rachel dropped her off first, so Dylan and Matt saw her

sad stucco house in the light of day. Another point in the
humiliation category. She slipped out of the car before Dylan
could kiss her, the taste in her mouth like compost. But a
tiny relief when Rachel pulled away before she walked down
the steps to the basement. Somehow going in that door
seemed worse.
And another relief at finding Roger and Patty out grocery ADVANCE READING COPY

shopping.
“Are you okay?” Ash sat on the sofa, the tv on, and
watched her walk past.
“I’m fine.” She kept going.
Her dingy room with the unmade bed was the most
beautiful sight in the universe. She lowered herself onto the
edge of the mattress, her knee throbbing again. Ash knocked
and let himself in, standing over her. Greta shrank from the
box of onion crackers in his hand, the picture on the front

making her want to heave again.
Ash smiled and waved it a little closer. “Not hungry?”
He cocked his head and squinted. “Nice hickey, by the way.
Don’t be such a cliché, Greta.”

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