Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

21 | Sinking Vehicle

JUEVES
7:01 PM

Dahlia Gray

I felt jealousy.

I know I shouldn't feel such despicable emotions—my mother taught me better—but I couldn't stop them. It was an automatic response: one that roots from the pit of my stomach, suffocates my lungs, and when it's done, leaving behind a stag of guilt no one could destroy.

I hear laughter entering the atmosphere, echoing through the hollow mansion. It grows louder—more cheerful—as we enter through the hallways, passing the enormous marble-topped kitchen, and reaching the backyard to Hannah's home.

Her backyard is luxurious; the ground is completely covered in concrete pavers, a large asymmetric pool in the center, and a couple of tanning beds laid around the pool. There's no fence, just open land, and a forest of trees acting as a barrier from this home to the next.

But that's not why I'm jealous.

Hannah and Josie were barefoot, piggybacking off their fathers who were racing around the pool. Hannah had her arms wrapped around her father's neck, laughter spilling from her lips with every sharp turn he makes. Josie smiles, but clutches onto her father with a firm grip, afraid of being dropped. Her father notices, holding her comfortably, slowing down his pace to minimizing her fear. I faintly remember her telling us she was afraid of heights.

"Miss Coulter," their maid, Penelope, announces. "Your guests arrived."

This causes the families to abruptly stop. Their attention snaps to the exit, seeing my father and I standing in front of the door. The air grows stale, and I shift uncomfortably under the weight of their stare—the sudden urge to turn around and race back home was brazing my fingertips. So close.

"Dahlia!" Hannah jumps off her father's back, racing across the concrete pavers, nearly tipping into the pool at her obliviousness. She jumps onto me, tackling me into a hug that almost tips me backwards. Her curly auburn hair pushes into my face, finding its way to my lips. I return the hug. "You're here!"

I hear my father release a couple of chuckles from behind me, and my mood instantly sours at the reminder. He's the last person that deserves to be smiling. My mother is at home, alone, because of him.

"I'm here," I say softly, patting her back and pulling myself out of the hug. I grace on a forced smile, just as Hannah slips her hands to the side of my arms, keeping me in her grasp. "I thought you said to come at seven."

"I did!" Hannah nods, beaming. Josie joins her by her side, offering me an empathic smile at Hannah's behavior. "Josie came early because it's tradition to play a couple of games before the family starts cooking."

Even when I decide to make an effort, I somehow feel left out.

Josie jabs an elbow into Hannah's side, catching her attention. The blonde nods her head to my father behind me, and realization dawns on the curly-haired girl.

"Oh, right!" Hannah drops her hands, turning to my father. She pulls her auburn hair back, holding a hand, "Hi, Mr Gray. You remember me, right?"

"Of course," my father nods, pulling his hand back. "You and Josie were the girls Dahlia always hung out with."

Not really.

"Absolutely!" Hannah beams, "let me introduce you to the rest. My mother over there is Liana Coulter. The beautiful woman beside her is Nya Hartfield."

My father nods his head to greeting, offering a friendly wave. The two older women do the same.

"Are you forgetting about me, Fawn?" Hannah's father, a dirty-blond haired man, queries behind her. She jumps in surprise, but turns around and grins.