worst behavior

sam

There were very few mornings where I woke up next to beautiful women.

In fact, until I came to Edston, it had only ever happened once, with Violet Newhope after the first time I ever got drunk. Once I met Emily, it happened twice again. Still, the occurrence was rare. And yet, there was Karina Oliveira, her smooth olive-skinned shoulder peeking out from under the comforter, and her long legs curled up on the narrow bed.

I didn't want to disturb her, or wake up Aunt Clara (because that would add a whole new world of pain to my already-throbbing headache), so I tiptoed out of the room and onto the creaky porch. The lawn spread out in front of me, the dirt road a long, thin brown line just before the horizon. The sun was already burning in the sky, although it was early. I took a deep breath of the humid air.

"Hey, Sam," called a voice from across the way. Emily had materialized on her porch next door, and was dangling her long brown legs over one of the railings. Her curly hair was tied on top of her head in something like a bun, and she was wearing the first dress I'd ever seen her wear: a tiered white one with thin straps. She looked beautiful and innocent until she opened her mouth. "You look like crap. Rough night?"

I self-consciously smoothed my wild hair, leaning on the porch rail to face her. "Yeah," I said, my voice coming out crackly and hoarse. My throat felt impossibly dry. "Karina's upstairs." I didn't remember exactly what happened last night with her, but when I checked under the blankets she hadn't been wearing much. So, something had to have transpired.

Em gave a little chuckle, her smile a little tired when it showed itself in that cool way. "S'at right? Ian's not up yet, either. Feel like walking?" She jumped off the porch, her short dress floating around her momentarily. Why, I wondered, was I catching all these beautiful little things about her, with a beautiful, mysterious girl lying in my bed just yards away?

Em beckoned me to follow her, already walking slowly on bare feet into the field. We walked for a few minutes in silence, watching the sun illuminate the expanse of overgrown grass that ran until it hit the blue horizon. I watched her take a long breath of fresh air before saying wistfully, "I wanna be seventeen forever."

When I eyed her carefully but didn't reply, she continued, "Everything's so light, now. Nothing matters. Nothing's real and nothing's wrong, if you don't look too hard. And it feels like nothing ever will change: nobody will ever die or get old or move away or even go back to school." Sun rays higlighted the soft angles of her upturned face.

Em looked at me suddenly. "Things are always changing. And people are always leaving. Everyone wants to get out. I don't, but they all do."

I studied her curiously as she high-stepped in the tall grass. "Why not?"

Emily scoffed. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. This place is kind of a hell hole. But leaving...it'd be like admitting something. I just don't know what."

I shook my head. "I can't imagine staying in one place my whole life."

"Obviously. Your parents smother you. I heard my Nan and Miss Clara talking about it."

"They do not," I lied. They did.

"Whatever," Em dismissed. "You say that now. But one day, you'll be all alone and realize I was right. You don't know what it feels like to be alone, because no one has ever left you. Your life is plush as hell, and it'll stay that way until your parents die, and then it'll still be plush as hell because you'll have your own family by then."

I was infuriated at how she assumed to know me. "Nobody's life is perfect, Emily Underwood. What's got you so bitter, anyway?" I stopped walking to face her. "Why do you even care to judge me and my family?"

Her cool smile was gone as her face turned stone cold. "I'm not bitter."

"You are," I insisted. I watched her face for a sign of emotion, but there was none but apathy. "My parents love me, and I'm aware of how lucky I am to have them. But all you do is talk about how I'm a spoiled brat. You don't even know me."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Even in the early-morning heat, I could feel the arctic winds that came with those words. So, this was what happened when Em was confronted. She froze you out. It made sense. Only, I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong.

Without speaking, she continued to walk through the grass, letting the blades that grew hip-high trail against her outspread fingers. I grappled for understanding, but of course I couldn't. How could I, if Emily wouldn't even speak?