Josh snickered. “You’re cute when you’re in game mode.” He bumped fists with two of his buddies, Guy Kenwood and Timothy Burgess, who’d also wandered over.
“Ha-ha,” Caitlin said with a laugh, trying not to be irritated that Josh wasn’t taking this game seriously. “It’ll be less cute when we kick your butts.”
She and Josh had been together forever. Their parents had been best friends since college—they’d been in each other’s weddings and had moved to Beacon Heights at the same time. Sibyl and Mary Ann, Caitlin’s two moms, had adopted Caitlin from Korea the same year Michelle Friday gave birth to Josh—and then when they went back to Seoul a few years later to adopt Caitlin’s brother, Taylor, they left Caitlin with the Friday family for two months. There were framed photos in both houses of Caitlin and Josh holding hands on a playground, or red-faced and crying in a mall Santa’s lap. There’d been a few of them sharing a bathtub as toddlers, too, but those had been banned by both Josh and Caitlin on the grounds that they were weird and creepy.
Over the years, the Martell-Lewises and the Fridays did joint vacations and holidays, held weekly board game nights, had standing Saturday-night barbecues, and were always on the sidelines at Caitlin’s and Josh’s games. And now Caitlin and Josh were both being courted by UDub’s respective soccer coaches . . . which meant the Martell-Lewis/Friday lovefest could continue into college. And then, if everything went according to plan, they would graduate, get married, and have Martell-Lewis-Friday babies.
And that plan was more important than ever now. Josh and soccer were her only two constants, the only things holding her together when it felt like her world was falling apart. With Taylor gone, her whole family had shifted. She was suddenly an only child, and the family her parents had worked so hard to create was crumbling. Her moms kept it together in front of her, but she often heard Sibyl crying quietly in their room. Mary Ann stared out the window as she did the dishes, as though if she looked long enough, she would finally see Taylor coming in for dessert. The only times her moms seemed like themselves were at dinner with the Fridays or cheering for Caitlin on the soccer field.
Shannon, who played left defense, cleared her throat, breaking Caitlin from her thoughts. “So how weird was that memorial today?” she asked in a low voice, looking at the girls’ team and all the boys who’d wandered over. “I guess I haven’t been to too many things for people our own age.” Then she paled and looked at Caitlin. “I’m sorry, Caitlin. I didn’t mean—”
Caitlin looked down. She wasn’t about to have a conversation about her brother right now.
Sujatha, a lean Indian girl who ran faster than anyone on the team, placed her hands on her thin hips. “Do you really think he committed suicide?”
“No way,” Asher Collins, the boys’ goalie, interjected. “That guy was too vain to kill himself.”
Marnie Wilson, who had an on-again, off-again thing with Asher, glared at him. “It’s not nice to talk like that about someone who’s dead.”
“Not if he’s an asshole,” Ursula piped up. Then she stared straight at Caitlin. “Right?”
Caitlin’s cheeks reddened. She’d heard something about Nolan jilting Ursula last year—then again, he’d jilted everyone. But it wasn’t a rumor how much Caitlin hated Nolan. She cleared her throat, looking to Josh for help, but he was busy mock-wrestling Timothy.
“I wonder what it’s like to take that much Oxy,” Ursula went on.
Shannon frowned. “How much did he take, anyway?”
“Enough to kill him, I guess,” Ursula said, still staring at Caitlin.
Suddenly, Caitlin heard a voice—her voice—from that day in film studies a few weeks before. You know how I’d do it? Oxy. Everyone knows it’s his drug of choice.
She blinked the memory away.
Ursula shrugged. “Do you think they’re doing an autopsy? Have you ever seen those shows on TV where they do that? They’re so gross. The coroner, like, cracks open the ribs with pliers and weighs the heart on a fruit scale.”
“Enough!” Caitlin said loudly. “Can we please focus?”
Everyone fell silent.
No one knew what went down between her and Nolan the night he died, but they all knew perfectly well that her brother had an autopsy performed on him only six months before—and that her brother was dead because of Nolan Hotchkiss.
Josh coughed uncomfortably, then grabbed Asher’s arm and guided him away. “Let’s talk strategy. See you, guys.”
The whistle blew. Caitlin faced her team, looking at all of them except Ursula. “Take your places,” she roared, her voice still a little shaky. “Let’s kick some balls, ladies.”