New Girl in Town

Chapter 27

Jennie's perched on the washer, her legs wrapped around Kai's waist, making out like they're trying to prove how sturdy the washer really is.

I don't know if there's really a word for what I'm feeling; it's like I'm a deck of cards being shuffled, speeding through heartbreak/betrayal/jealousy/hurt/why/Jennie/why?

She kisses him, her legs tight around him like she needs to keep him there, but I know she doesn't. I know what it's like to kiss her: you'll stay there forever to make it last just another second.

Her tears are dried like they weren't even there, and I can't stand it. I can't torture myself like this. This is sick. She's sick. He's a fucking bully and maybe something worse, I don't know, but I'm not going to stick around to find out.

I turn and run before either of them can see me. I push open the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. The pool's been abandoned for the drinks inside, floaties skimming lonely across the water.

I'd grab my bike and go, but my temples are pounding, spots dancing along my vision, and I need to sit down and breathe, blink them away before I can get on my bike.

I slump down on the cement bench at the edge of the patio, burying my head in my hands, trying to count my breaths and losing count on seven. Then three. Then fifteen.

Shit, I can't stop thinking about them. Has he undressed her yet? Are they going to fuck right there on the washer?

Hot tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but I sniff angrily, staring at the sky, blinking them back.

She doesn't deserve them. She doesn't. Not until she actually talks to me.

"You okay?"

My head jerks up. Rosie stands there, hands in the pockets of her coat. I didn't even hear her walk up.

I shrug. If I talk, I might start crying for real. Who the fuck knows, after this day? These weeks. Jennie's existence in my world.

She pulls out a perfectly rolled joint, lighting up, not offering me any. Rude. A part of me wants it. To float away. To soften the horrible edge of my heart that Jennie has honed to a razor. I'm bleeding with each breath, my own weakness for her carving me up.

"Can I?" I ask her.

"Only if you talk to me," she says.

I glare at her.

"You look like you really need to talk," she adds.

"You're so altruistic."

I take the joint when she offers it, breathing in the smoke. It's almost sweet—something I've never experienced before with weed. I hold it in my lungs as long as I can, breathing it slow.

"Sometimes my friends are a lot," Rosie says, out of nowhere, as I hand her the joint.

"Why are you friends with them?" I ask, curious despite myself. "I mean, I kind of get the impression you're the odd girl out."

She takes a hit and then breathes smoke out. "Do the rich kids not hang with the poor kids where you're from?"

I shrug. "It was a lot more separated in my school. Is this a small-town thing or something?"

"It's a Jennie thing," Rosie says.

My eyes widen.

"Not like that." She laughs. "I mean she's the reason we're all friends. In first grade, there was like this fall festival thing and there was a petting zoo with a pony."

"Why do I have the sense that this is not a cute story?" I say, taking the joint she offers back.

"So it's me, Jennie, Kai, and Jisoo," Rosé says. "Irene didn't move here until fifth grade. And we're petting the ducks and the chickens, and there's a very cute pig."