Page 19

“Were we friends?”

Sienna’s forehead creases, just as the corners of her lips dip. “You were probably the only real friend I had. Does that answer your question?”

I frown at her statement because I know she means it. If I had it rough, then so did Sienna. While I only had my dad, Sienna had been raised by her elderly grandparents. In other words, like me, she raised herself. Her mother was too strung out to take care of her, and her father was never in the picture to begin with. There were a lot of kids like that in Fairhope.

When the paper mill closed to move overseas, the opioid epidemic hit this town like a wrecking ball. Many parents disappeared into addiction. While some died from the habit, others packed up and left altogether, chasing the next high somewhere bigger than Fairhope.

I guess I should count my blessings that my mom never left. She stayed. Kids like Sienna weren’t that lucky. Her mom left and never looked back.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I guess I’m just… tense.”

“Is that why you’ve been sitting out here for the last twenty minutes?”

“It hasn’t been that long,” I mumble.

“Yes, it has. I watched you pull in from my room.” She nods toward the B&B’s first-floor window. “I finally came down because I wanted to make sure you weren’t about to bail on me.”

I huff out a laugh. “I still might.”

“I sure as shit hope not. I don’t think I can survive the Heathers on my own.” A cold chill races down my spine at the word.

Heathers.

It was an old eighties movie starring Winona Ryder and Christian Slater. I remember watching it right before finishing middle school at one of Dylan Kimball’s basement parties. Actually, it’s one of those memories so deeply ingrained in my head that I can still smell the mold seeping from the walls and picture the god-awful shag carpeting covering the entire room.

Troy Baker had brought over an old VCR he’d found in his attic, along with a box of VHS tapes he’d discovered beside it. Naturally, the boys were convinced they’d stumbled across his dad’s old porn stash. The disappointment was palpable when every tape turned out to be part of his mom’s collection of cheesy eighties teen movies. Still, among all the John Hughes films, there was one that didn’t quite belong—Heathers.

At first, I remember thinking Christian Slater’s character J.D. was kind of cute. But then he started killing people. Or more importantly, killing off his girlfriend’s supposed best friends and school bullies as some kind of love declaration.

The whole movie left me feeling on edge. But apparently not everyone felt that way, because a few months later we started high school, and suddenly a group of girls began calling themselves The Fairhope Reds as an homage to the clique in the movie.

I don’t think they understood the underlying message of Heathers at all. Not that it mattered. All they saw was the power those girls wielded, and they wanted a taste of it. And sure enough, just like their onscreen idols, they ruled Fairhope High through fear, intimidation, and humiliation.

Everything changed that year. It was also the year the Red’s fearless leader became Milo’s stepsister, and the year my torment began—two things I really didn’t need reminding of. Not when I’m already skittish enough to make a U-turn and drive the hell out of town.

Sensing exactly where my head is at, Sienna takes a step back and folds her arms.

“Get out of the car, Max. You came this far for a reason.”

“I’m not going to lie. I’m really having a hard time remembering what that reason was,” I say, only half joking.

“Let’s just get this over with. Come on. I’ll buy you a stiff drink at the bar.”

“I don’t drink,” I reply absentmindedly, staring at the Alder B&B as if it had teeth.

“Then I’ll buy you a fucking lemonade. Just get out of the car. Now. Move.”

“Jesus, okay,” I grumble, secretly grateful she’s making the decision for me, since I’m doing a pretty shitty job of making it myself. After rolling up the window, I grab my handbag from the passenger seat, climb out, and slam the door shut. “There. Happy?”

“Never been happy a day in my life,” she deadpans. “How does content sound?”

I burst out laughing, and to my surprise, Sienna lets out a quiet chuckle too. She never used to laugh much as a kid. It’s nice to see life has finally given her something to smile about. Even if it is at the expense of our own miserable selves.

“Should we hug or something?” I ask now that we’re only a few feet away from each other.

“Can we not and just say we did?”

“Works for me.” I grin. “Never been much of a hugger.”