hømetøwn

• : / nineteen / : •

A cold stillness had enveloped Angie's face, blocking out visible emotions. I knew that face. She'd made it the first time I asked about her dad, who left her family when she was seven. She'd made it the few times we had gotten into an argument. And she was making it now: that blank, neutral stare, setting off storm signals in my mind.

"This whole thing is so cold," she said.

Brendon and Ryan exchanged brief glances.

"Brendon, you and I used to be like best friends. We went to the same high school for three fucking years. And now you're basically going out of your way to ignore me. What's the deal?"

"Look, don't take this the wrong way. Or do. I don't really care," said Brendon. "But you're a control freak. Like. A complete and total control freak, Isabella."

Angie raised her eyebrows. "I don't go by that anymore. Which you'd know if you would actually read my texts."

"Yeah, I thought your name was Angie," I said. "Is Angie your middle name or something?"

"Yeah. I changed it when I moved. Guess I just figured, what the hell? New school, new me." She laughed, but the sound was forced and sharp at the edges.

Ryan looked to me. "Wait. You two know each other?"

"Angie...Angie, Angie..." Brendon muttered, deep in thought. His eyes met mine, then widened. "Angie?! Like, your friend from home Angie? You two --?!"

"Yeah," Angie and I said at the same time. We glanced at each other and her lips twitched upward.

"Lake." Now Angie's voice sank into a sugar sweet tone. "Have I ever seemed like a control freak to you?"

I scanned my memories for a time she'd been overly controlling or sent out any warning signals, but my mind flashed white. "No," I said. "No, not really."

Angie started to say something, but Brendon interrupted.

"You were fine for the first year or so. But the closer you got, the more invasive you got. Trust me," he said, looking to me, "if you hadn't left, things would've just gotten worse with her. If there's one thing I know for sure, it's that Isabella is a complete control freak."

"I. Am. Not. A. Control. Freak." She enunciated every word in slow, even syllables. A note of danger crept into her tone. You could grow razors in that voice.

"You put a fucking tracker on my phone," said Brendon.

"You were being irresponsible! I was just trying to make sure you were safe, so I could come help you if you needed me."

"We had a designated driver. We didn't need you monitoring me. You're not my mom. God."

Angie darted to a new angle. "I know why Lake's here."

Brendon and I glanced at each other.

"What?" I said.

"I know why you're here," said Angie, "and it's not because he likes you. He's sleeping with you to get back at me."

"What?" Brendon and Ryan yelled at the same time.

A weight dropped in my stomach.

"We aren't sleeping together," I said.

"I didn't even know you two were friends," said Brendon. "Lake, I swear to God, I didn't have any intentions to -- to sleep with -- or, well -- to sleep with you just to get back at -- oh my G-- you know what? What the hell is wrong with you, Isabella? Why would you say something like that?"