The Last Time We Were Us (30 page)

“I don’t have the strength for your judgment right now.”

She gasps. “So it’s true.”

“And what if it is?”

She laughs, and she almost sounds like the MacKenzie I know and love. “Two guys in—what?—two weeks? That’s bold.”

“Are you going to call me a slut now, too?”

“Is that what Innis said?”

“What do you think?”

“Well, you’re not, okay? And he’s one to talk. He’s slept with a ton of girls.”

“It’s different with girls.”

MacKenzie sighs. “It shouldn’t be. But I guess it is. Damn, I can’t believe you’re more experienced than me now. Two guys. You woman of the world!”

“What are you, proud of me?” I ask. I sit back on my bed, stretch my legs out. If MacKenzie can put it all behind her, if she can give up her senior year plans, then maybe there is hope for everyone else.

“So where did this happen?” she asks.

“Where did what happen?” I ask.

“Where did you . . . you know.”

“Oh,” I say. “In his room.”

“Hey, hey. An upgrade from the basement!” She giggles. “Jason’s not ugly, at least. Even if he is a social pariah.”

“So you’re not mad?”

A pause. “I was,” she says finally. “But when I thought about it, I knew you wouldn’t sleep with him unless you were crazy about him, and while I seriously doubt the wisdom of your choices, and know that my mere association with you is going to knock me down several notches in terms of popularity, and that all my double-date plans are pretty much screwed, I guess I can get over that if you feel
this
strongly.”

My heart swells. “I love you, Kenzie.”

“I love you, too,” she says. “You going to see him tonight?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll try and talk some sense into Innis. Get him to hook up with a freshman, get his mind off you. Payton’s having a party tonight. I’d ask you to come, but . . .”

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “Social pariah. It’s okay.”

“But next time you have some wild sexual development, make sure I don’t hear about it from my boyfriend, of all people.”

“Okay,” I say. “I promise.”

Chapter 28

A
T ELEVEN ON THE DOT,
I
LEAVE THE HOUSE.
B
EFORE
I go, I creep past my parents’ room to check that they’re sleeping. Dad’s crackling snoring and Mom’s heavy breathing are both intact.

Mom doesn’t know I keep a spare car key in my dresser, and I slip downstairs with it in my hand. As I imagined, my phone is tucked away in her purse. There are four missed calls. Two from MacKenzie, two from Jason.

Coming over
, I text him, and as quietly as I can, I walk out the front door, towards the car. They might hear it start, hear me peal away, but it doesn’t matter now. I’ve got to see him.

The radio station is playing late-night club music. The bass thumps through me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like dancing. I imagine me and Jason, in another town—New York City, maybe—shaking it in a club surrounded by strangers, jumping up and down and sweating and drinking and laughing, no one even knowing what he did or didn’t do, what it is I gave up.

There is so much more than this little world. Jason and I can find it together.

He’s sitting on the apartment steps as I pull up, and I park and hop out quick, eager to see him.

“I was getting worried about you,” he says. “When I didn’t hear from you at all.”

I plant a kiss on his lips, hold him. Marvel at the fact that I
can
hold him, that he is finally mine. “My parents took away my phone and my car,” I say. He nods behind me. “I hid the extra key after last time they did it.”

“Smart girl.” He kisses me quick, and I feel so light I could float. “You’re almost as bad as me.”

He tells me his dad’s gone again, and we walk up to the apartment, go into his room, sit on the bed and talk. I don’t tell him what happened with Innis—that chapter is finally over, and I don’t want Jason to have to think about him at all—but I do tell him about MacKenzie, how she’s forgiven me, how if she can, anyone can. I tell him about what I thought about on the drive over, about the two of us in a big city, where no one knows our past, where no one can judge us.

He just leans in and kisses me so soft.

T
HE SEX LASTS
longer this time—I’m starting to see why people rave about this. There is a sense of living, this feeling that I’ve never had before. This possibility, tucked away deep within me, just waiting to be unlocked.

When we’re done, I take his face in my hands, and I don’t even hesitate, because there’s nothing holding me back.

“I love you,” I say.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I love you, too.”

I
PULL ON
my underwear and one of his T-shirts and sneak into the kitchen, feeling scandalous, even though I know Mr. Sullivan isn’t home. I pour myself a glass of water and drink it down in a few gulps, pour another.

I head back to Jason’s room, and he’s got his hands behind his head, the sheets up to his hips, and he’s leaning back and smiling at me like he’s the king of the world.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says.

“Hey.”

He motions me back to bed, but before I get in, I see the blink of my phone. Two new texts.

They’re both from MacKenzie.

One just after midnight.

you okay? innis left here an hour ago.

And another around twelve thirty.

i’m sure it’s no big deal, he just seemed really mad

I look at the clock on my phone. It’s already one thirty.

“Who’s that?” Jason asks.

“Kenzie.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you guys made up.”

“Me too.”

I quickly type a text.

i’m fine, hope you had a good night xoxo

And then Jason reaches for my arm, and I give it to him, and he gives a little jerk, and I fall back against him, and he snuggles me against him, and we are one again.

I
WAKE TO
the sound of an opening door.

At first I think it must be Mr. Sullivan, and I freak out, pulling the sheets up around me, but when I look at the clock, it is only after two, too early.

I curse Mr. Sullivan for growing up in a small town—why in the world don’t they lock their doors?—and listen in terror to the
thunk, thunk, thunk
of heavy footsteps coming towards us, the sound of doors opening and shutting, the flicker of lights coming on.

“Jason.” My heart is beating wildly now, the blood rushing through my head so loud it sounds like the whoosh of the ocean. “Jason,” I say again, shaking his shoulder. My voice cracks, and I am so scared and so sad, because we have found each other, finally, and now some psycho killer is here, some armed robber, some
someone
who is totally not supposed to be here right now is going to take it all away. “Jason, someone is inside the house.”

“What?” he asks, groggy and dazed, and in the streetlight streaming in through the window, I see the whites around his eyes. If I die now, if the killer gets us, then I will never see him clear and sharp again.

Jason’s door whips open, slamming against the wall, and then there’s a rush of steps, and it’s only after it’s too late, after the guy has launched himself on top of Jason, that I realize what’s going on.

“Innis?” I say, my voice shaking. “Oh my God, what are you doing?”

For an instant, I feel relief. We are not going to die at the hands of a psycho killer. We are going to be okay.

“What the hell, man?” Jason yells. “Get the hell off of me.” Jason tries to lift his arms but they’re pinned on either side by Innis’s thick, lacrosse-player legs and his sudden proximity, his altogether hugeness.

“Liz?” he asks. His voice is slurred, and the whole room now smells of whiskey, but he is with it enough to know what he’s doing, to take whatever plan he has into action. He turns to me, his arms now holding Jason down, too. “A little sleepover, huh?”

“Get off.” Jason squirms beneath him, but Innis slaps him, hard across the face.

“Shut up,” he says.

“Why are you here?” I ask, my voice pleading. “What are you doing here?”

But Innis ignores me. He looks down at Jason. “You hurt my brother,” he says, his words melding together in a boozy haze. “You tried to kill my brother.”

“You know I didn’t, man,” Jason says. “You know I didn’t.”

“You’re not even sorry,” Innis says. “You never were. You
ran
!”

Jason shakes his head. “It was an accident,” he says. “I shouldn’t have run, but it was an accident.”

Innis’s voice is like a dying animal’s, gasping for air. “I don’t give a shit if it was an accident! You still did it! And now you did your time and just get to move on with everything. You even get to fuck my girlfriend.” He nods to me. “And you think I’m just going to let you get away with it?”

Jason squirms again, but it’s no use. My mind races in a hundred directions, trying to figure out Innis’s next move.

Innis pushes one hand against Jason’s throat, pressing him back, not enough to choke him, but just enough to make him stop moving. And then with the other hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the knife I’ve seen before,
the best
, as he told Alex that day in Walmart. He flicks it open with one fell swoop. A glint of engraved initials.

“Get off the bed, Lizzie,” Jason snaps, as soon as the knife is out. “Get off the bed
now
.”

I’m still half-naked, and I feel as if Jason and I are unprotected, vulnerable, raw. I have no idea what Innis is doing, but I can’t just stand in the corner and watch this madness happen. I sit up, slowly, eyes never leaving the knife in Innis’s hand. He waves it in the air in front of Jason’s face.

“You don’t want to do this.” I try to force calmness into my voice. “Whatever you’re thinking about, you don’t want to do it.”

“Lizzie,” Jason is yelling now. “Get away from me.”

But I can’t help it, I scoot closer. “Please,” I say. “Don’t hurt him. You’ll regret it.”

Innis glances to me, his hand still at Jason’s throat. He brings the knife just inches from Jason’s cheek. “Will you still want him if his face is all messed up?” he asks. “Or will you be like your slut of a sister? On to the next one!”

He brings the knife closer.

“You’ll get in trouble,” I say. “You’ll miss your whole senior year.”

“Will I?” Innis presses his hand closer to Jason’s throat, until his breath becomes labored. “I’m not gonna kill him, Liz. Jesus Christ, have a little faith in me! I’m just going to show him what it’s like to have a scar that won’t go away.”

“They’ll lock you up for that,” I say. “It’ll still ruin everything. And for what?”

He moves the knife even closer. “Who’s to say it’s not just some guy from juvie, scuffed him up a little? Who’ll even know it was me?”

“I will,” I say. “I’ll tell everyone.”

Innis laughs, loud and harsh and scary. “Who the hell is gonna believe
you
over me? Whoever believes you guys over me?”

The knife is so close now, I can hear it scratch against Jason’s stubble, and I think he’s actually going to do it, I swear he’s about to do it.

“Get away, Lizzie,” Jason yells.

But I can’t. I reach for Innis, touch his shoulder, but he doesn’t look away from the knife in his hand. I squeeze. “Please,” I say. “Please don’t do this.”

“Lizzie,” Jason yells again.

And I’m yelling now, pleading, my voice swimming through hot tears. “Stop it,” I scream. “Just stop it.”

“Lizzie, get off the bed!” Jason yells.

Innis’s eyes catch mine for just a second. “Yeah, Liz, get out of my way!”

His arm comes at me, and I feel a blow to my cheek, hard and heavy and solid, with a sharpness at the end, a searing snake of pain. I land on the floor.

Both of them keep yelling, and I can’t make out the words, but I pull myself up, head already aching.

There’s a creaking of bedsprings, movement, but I can only stare, straight ahead, at the mirror in front of me, at the girl in the reflection, so terrifying and strange that I almost doubt it’s me, a line across my cheek, and I scream as the blood trickles, slow and thick and drippy, like red honey, and then I’m out.

Chapter 29

W
HEN
I
OPEN MY EYES, THERE IS A WOMAN IN A PALE
blue uniform hovering over me and asking my name.

My head aches like nothing I’ve ever felt before, a hot white pain that reaches from the back around to my temples. And my cheek—instantly, I remember the blood, my banshee of a reflection—I lift my hand to feel it, but the lady shoos it away. “Don’t touch.”

My heart begins to race, and she glances to a monitor. “Relax.” Her drawl is thick but her voice is kind, calmer than the
whir-whir-whir
of the siren, the bump and shake of the ambulance. “You’re going to be okay. You’ve lost some blood through the cut on your cheek, and you hit your head pretty bad when you fell, but you’re going to be okay. Can you tell me your name?”

“Liz Grant.”

“Very good. Your birthday?”

I start to say it, but then it hits me. Jason. I have no idea what happened to Jason.

“Miss?”

“My friend,” I say, stammering, tears welling up in my eyes. My voice cracks. “Did you see my friend?”

“I’m sure your friend is fine,” she says. “Now, can you tell me your birthday?”

My head spins. He has to be fine. Someone had to have called the ambulance. Someone had to get me here. But what if he’s not?

“Miss, I need you to tell me your birthday.”

I rattle it off to get her to stop. “But did you see my friend?”

She’s not listening. She’s shining a flashlight in my eyes and taking my pulse and doing things that seem so inconsequential now.

The tears pour down my face then and my breathing quickens.

“Miss,” she says. “You have to please try and stay calm. Like I said, I’m sure your friend is fine.
Miss
.”

But it’s no use, the tears won’t stop.