“Um…yeah.” To her credit, Zoe stopped there.
“But they still don’t deserve all this drama every time my sister comes home. It’s so freaking annoying. And totally uncalled for.”
“Have you ever asked your Mom and Dad what happened in Milford?” Zoe asked. “I mean, to make Sophie so mad?”
“Well, yeah. My dad used to drink back then. And I guess my parents fought sometimes. But Sophie always makes it sound like she grew up in a war zone or something. And my dad has been sober for fifteen years now! That’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Yeah,” Zoe said. “Fifteen years is pretty good.”
A long silence followed. Zoe and I stared at Melissa’s beautiful front lawn. A row of narrow cypress trees separated one side from the neighboring house, and the grass was lush and green. Twilight had begun to descend, and the summer air was fragrant with the purple scent of lilac blooms.
“Except…” The words came out barely over a whisper. “I might be crazy, but something sounded different this time.”
“What do you mean?” Zoe asked.
“I’m not really sure. Something she said about Milford.” I smoothed my palms down the sides of my hair. “She said there were things I didn’t know about. Stuff my parents hadn’t told me.”
Zoe took another swing of soda. “Well, maybe you should find out,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
I didn’t want to find out.
Zoe shook my shoulder. “Listen, let’s go have fun. It’s your graduation! You can worry about all this stuff later. Right now, you just need to chill and enjoy yourself.”
“Okay.” I got back up slowly. She was right. Nothing I did right now was going to fix anything.
The music had been turned up to a startling decibel, the bass thumping above the trees like a gigantic heartbeat. Kids danced and shrieked, running around with red cups in their hands and jumping into the pool. I followed Zoe, who was making her way over to the pool house, but stopped when I caught sight of Cheryl, who had moved from the lawn chair to the side of the pool. Milo was next to her, dangling his feet in the water, holding a red cup in his hand. His shirt was off, and his head was bent toward her. As she whispered something in his ear, Cheryl ran a finger slowly over the curve of his bare shoulder.
Just then, Milo looked up. Our eyes locked.
“Oh God,” I said.
“Where you going?” Zoe asked, as I turned around.
“I don’t know,” I said over my shoulder. “Anywhere but here.”
chapter
8
A slow thrumming had started to make its way behind my eyes, quickening with every step. Despite the heat, my arms prickled with cold and I shuddered, crossing them tightly over my chest. The houses in this part of town were breathtakingly beautiful. For as hard as Dad worked on our yard, it would never in a million years look like these did, with their acres of landscaped property and exotic bushes. But I did not stop to look at any of them. Instead, as the air around me ached under a relentlessly floral smell, I put my head down and ran as I hard as I could.
“Julia!” Milo’s voice shot out behind me. He ran soundlessly along the sidewalk, his rubber slides gripped tightly in both hands, getting closer with every step. I kept running. “Julia! Wait up!” He caught up to me all at once, grabbing me by the elbow and spinning me around.
I jerked my arm away, panting. “What?”
Milo leaned over, holding on to the front of his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “What…happened? Why’d you leave…like that?”
There was no way I was going to add insult to injury by stroking his ego. “No reason. I just wanted to go.”
Milo straightened back up. His gelled hair had flopped out of shape; small pieces of it stood up awkwardly, like grass.
“Zoe said you had some stuff going on at home,” Milo said. “With your parents and Sophie and all.”
“And?” I started walking again.
Milo fell in step next to me, hopping awkwardly as he struggled to get his slides back on. “And…I don’t know, do you want to talk about it?”
What? Was he really saying this?
“Not really,” I said.
“All right.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
I kept walking, fuming inside. Why would I talk to him about my family’s most private details? Why would I talk to him about anything? We didn’t talk. We didn’t do anything. He barely even acknowledged my presence most days, unless he felt like it. Or unless things weren’t going so great with Cheryl or Melissa or whatever other girl he was interested in that week.
“Are you…” Milo looked down at the ground. “Are you upset that Cheryl was talking to me?”