“I could use another drink,” Ethan adds, not lifting his head.
“And if you find any more of those brownies —” Grady burps, the floor around him already littered with junk-food debris.
“Dude, get off your ass.” Reeve kicks him as he steps over their bodies.
“Mnueh.”
As he disappears toward the kitchen, I look around, checking that nobody has seen my awkwardness. But they’re all lolling back, eyes glazed by hours of TV. I try to relax, stretching the muscles that have been set, tense, for hours now. I never realized crushing on a guy could be so exhausting, but the amount of extra effort it takes to act totally casual around Reeve is wiping me out.
“You know, we should probably get going soon,” I tell Fiona, noticing the digital display on the TV with some relief. “It’s nearly ten thirty.”
“So?” She shrugs.
“So, Susie said to be back by then.” It’s only after I reply that I realize my reason will probably have her camped out here until dawn.
Sure enough, Fiona reaches for the next disc.
“Fiona.” I sigh as Reeve wanders back in the room. I pause, distracted. His faded gray shirt hangs close to his torso, and he gives me a half smile, holding up the six-pack of soda.
“Last chance?”
I shake my head. He breaks off cans to toss to the other boys and then collapses back next to me, utterly relaxed. “Where are we up to — episode fifteen, sixteen?”
“The girls might bail.” Ethan looks over, questioning.
I pause, torn. I don’t want to cause problems with Susie, but if Reeve is staying . . .
“Fine!” Fiona exclaims suddenly, as if I’ve been nagging her for hours. “We’ll go now.” She gets to her feet and pulls on a hooded sweater. “You so better not watch any without me,” she tells the boys before stalking out of the room, leaving a mess of wrappings and empty cans on the floor.
“Sorry,” I apologize tiredly, leaping up. “See you tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” Ethan nods. “We might be heading into Kamloops with Dad. I’ll call or something.”
“Later, Jenna.” Reeve nods. Grady makes a noise of agreement as I grab my bag and hurry out.
“Fiona, wait up!”
I catch up with her out on the road. It’s dark outside, but she’s not using our mandated flashlights; instead, she just kicks at gravel with her hands deep in her front pocket.
“That was kind of rude,” I say cautiously, falling into step beside her. The warm glow of the Johnsons’ neighbors’ light melts away behind us, and I shiver — I’m still wary of wandering around here after dark. “We should have stayed to help clean up.”
“So why didn’t you? Oh, right, I forgot, you have to get home to your precious Susie.” Her voice sneers on the last word. It’s nothing but the same bitchy crap I’ve been dealing with all month, but for once, something in me snaps.
“What the hell is your problem?” I exclaim. Moving quickly to block her way, I demand, “Seriously, this spoiled brat thing of yours is getting ridiculous.”
Fiona rolls her eyes and tries to push past me, but I stand firm in the middle of the dark road. Jeremiah B. Coombes would probably tell me to flee the wild beast and retreat to safety, but I’m sick of tolerating all her crap. No more.
“I mean it,” I insist. “What’s going on? I get that you’re angry and you miss your mom, but don’t you want Adam to be happy?”
“I want him to be happy, just not with her.” Fiona glares back at me. It’s the kind of stare that would wither anyone in their tracks, but I have a jolt of adrenaline running through me now, and I won’t quit so easily.
“So what happens if you get your way? Do you really think that will make things better? Your dad will just have another divorce on his hands, and you’ll find something else to bitch about.”
“Nope.” She smiles tightly. “That would pretty much solve everything.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Would you listen to yourself? I’d understand if Susie was the wicked stepmother or something, but she’s awesome. Really amazing, and she’s falling over herself to give you everything you want!”
“She shouldn’t be here,” Fiona replies stubbornly.
I throw my hands up. “But she is! And if you don’t think the way you act hurts her, you’re wrong. And that goes for me too,” I add, quieter. I’ve been tiptoeing around her for too long. “You’ve been mean since I got here, and I’m sick of it, Fiona.”
“And . . . ?” she drawls, extra-sarcastic, like she’s just trying to show how insignificant my feelings are.
“And if you keep going like this, you’ll end up with nobody!”
Fiona seems unmoved. I wonder if she cares about anyone here. She’s got to. Nobody can get by without friends, especially way out here where there’s nobody for company for another fifty miles in any direction. “The way you bitch at us all the time — Ethan, Reeve, Grady . . . You know it sucks,” I say bluntly, spying my opening. It may not matter what Susie and I think, but the others . . . ? And sure, they tolerate it for now, but one of these days, they’ll get sick of it, too, and then you’ll be left alone. Is that what you want? Really?”
Fiona is looking at me defiantly, but I think I see something flicker in her expression.
Or maybe that’s just sheer rage.
“Think about it.” I sigh, backing away. “You just keep acting like the same spoiled, selfish brat you always do, and see who’s around to be your friend.” Now it’s my turn for sarcasm. Crossing my arms, I begin to stride away, but not before I turn back with one last warning. “Either way, for now you’re stuck with me!”
I soon find that instead of making things better, my fight with Fiona unleashes, well, hell. Her tantrums go from loud to epic, the door-slamming never ends, and over the next three days, Susie is reduced to tears on two different occasions. My headache is most definitely back.
When I head downstairs the morning after a particularly obnoxious fight (in which Fiona screamed that she wished Susie was, and I quote, “mauled by wolves”) and find her sitting at the breakfast nook, eating Cocoa Puffs, my heart sinks. I grab some cereal and try to assemble breakfast before she breaks out with another chorus of “I hate you/you’re evil/life isn’t fair!”