THE CUT

what was i supposed to do?

18

I'm not in the mood to party, but I go anyway, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it will liven my spirits. My spirits, which have been in the trenches since I ended things with Rafe two weeks ago.

Everyone knows something is up. My parents have pointed out my picking at my food over dinner. Sarah has pointed out that I'm not talking very much—it's true. She does most of the talking now when we see each other. I should talk about it, but no one feels like the right person to talk about it with. What is Sarah going to do? Suddenly care that her brother is losing control of his addiction?

I barely remember that night at JJ's. I don't know whether to be embarrassed or not. Sarah hasn't treated me any differently since then, but I've wondered. I remember telling Kiara about me and Rafe, but I'm not afraid of her telling on me.

And even though my memory is pretty much shot after scrambling to the bathroom and puking into the toilet, I feel closer to JJ. When I think back to him crashing Kelce's boat party to fight Rafe, or when he ruined my evening at the outdoor movie, I can't connect it with the JJ I know now.

We've hung out a few times since then, at his place. Once, he suggested we take a ride to Kiara's parents' restaurant for lunch, and to see Kiara, who he said was probably bored out of her mind. But I lied and said I wasn't hungry, but really it was because I was afraid to run into Rafe. I was afraid he'd be in the Cut again buying drugs.

I didn't tell Sarah about my hangouts with JJ. I don't want her getting the wrong idea, because it isn't like that—it isn't. JJ and I joke around, and we nudge each other when we make a joke, but that's it. She'll start planning our futures together if she gets the slightest inclination that JJ and I are anything more than just friends.

I'm in a summery, backless dress with my hair up in a clip. Sarah parks the car down the block, and we walk, her in flat sneakers, me in heeled sandals. For a while, the only sound is of my heels clicking against the pavement and the music from the party thrumming ahead.

"Are you excited?" Sarah asks.

"Not really," I say. "I'm looking forward to drinking, though." Because, tonight, I won't have to look after Rafe, wherever he is. I don't care if he's here. The party is so big, it would probably be somewhat difficult to run into him, even if he's at the center of it.

Sarah throws her arm around my shoulders. This is us finally, officially, making up. I'm tired of holding a grudge against my best friend, and I think she feels the same way.

We pour ourselves drinks from the keg, and then Sarah tells me she invited JJ here.

"JJ's coming?"

She nods.

"To a Kook party?"

She shrugs. "I told him to wear something nice."

I can't fight back my smile when I think of JJ rummaging through his mess of clothes trying to pick out something that could allow him to pass as a Kook.

The house is grandiose, similar to the Camerons', with its Southern charm; columns framing the front door, and the wraparound porch where girls in bikinis and guys in board shorts are drinking and flirting. Their laughter echoes all along the strip of beach.

Inside, among all the sweaty bodies, are dim, yellow bulbs from old fixtures hung against ugly wallpaper and vintage furniture to match.

Sarah waves JJ over when I've refilled my cup. He pops up beside me in a clean T-shirt and khaki shorts.

"Wow, Pogue, you clean up well." I pour him a drink from the keg, and he downs it.

"How many have you had?"