The plant weighs a freaking ton, but I manage to carry it up to his front door. I hear the party going on inside, people cheering at something on television. I set the plant down on the ground, run my fingers quick through my curls, and ring the doorbell.
Okay, Lil. Showtime. I’m nervous, but I’m excited, too. To make things right, to fix what I’ve screwed up. To feel like myself again.
The door opens, and it takes me a second to recognize the person who answers.
Rennie. She folds her arms across her chest. She’s dressed in a football jersey and a pair of leggings, bare feet, her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun at the tippy top of her head. I feel completely ridiculous and wrong in my fancy clothes.
“I can’t even believe you’d have the nerve to show up here,” she spits out.
“I need to talk to Reeve,” I say.
She lets out a harsh laugh. “You think he wants to talk to you? He’s through with you. He finally sees you for what you are. A f**king bitch.”
Helplessly, I look past her into the den, hoping he might see me standing here and change his mind. Or at least give me a chance to explain. But the den is full of boys, Reeve’s brothers and some other men I don’t know. Nearly all of them are wearing the same jersey Rennie has on; all their eyes are pinned to the television screen. Behind that is the Christmas tree, every single branch decorated. On the coffee table I see Rennie’s seven-layer taco dip, the one she always makes for sleepover parties in her mom’s blue casserole dish. And in the back of the house I see Reeve’s mom in a holiday apron and flannel slippers, stirring a big stockpot.
I call out Reeve’s name and try to push my way past Rennie, but she pushes me, so hard I stumble in my heels and almost fall backward. She says, “You’re not welcome here. Reeve hates you now just like I do.”
“He can tell me that himself,” I say, craning my head to see inside.
“He’s not downstairs,” Rennie informs me, as she slouches in the door frame to block my view. “We’re upstairs in his room.” She over-enunciates the “we’re” part to make absolutely sure I hear it. I hear it, of course, and my imagination goes wild. Of Reeve and Rennie lying in his bed, his head in her lap, her running her hands through his hair, and suddenly they start to kiss. Reeve knows exactly how to hurt me best, and so does Rennie. And I bet both of them wouldn’t hesitate to do it. “You should know better than to compete with me, Lil. You know I always win.”
I lift my chin. I’m not going to grovel at Rennie’s feet, like she’s the lady of the house and I’m a beggar off the street. “Tell him I stopped by.” I try to pick up the poinsettia to push it inside the house, but Rennie shakes her head and starts closing the door.
“They have a cat, and poinsettias are poisonous to cats.”
A voice behind her shouts, “Who’s at the door?”
Rennie calls out, “Nobody,” as it shuts in my face.
On my way back to the car, I tell myself that this is for the best. Reeve and I are done. I’m finally off the hook. And even though it’s a huge relief, I still cry my eyes out the entire way back home.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Kat and I are standing near the start of Lillia’s block. She’s on the phone with Pat. She’s been trying to get him on the phone for the last few minutes.
“Yo! What the hell! You’re supposed to come pick up me and Mary from Lillia’s, remember?” I can hear Pat’s voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound as chilled out as he was on Halloween night. His voice is sharper, more stressed. “Are you serious?” Kat makes an unhappy snort, and silently mouths to me that the car isn’t working again. Then she screams, “Call a damn mechanic, then!” into the phone. Pat shouts something back, and Kat hangs up on him.
“Fool needs to get his ass back to trade school.” She tucks the phone into her jean pocket. “I could try Ricky, but I think he’s working, and anyway only one of us can fit on his bike. We can walk back to Lil’s house and get her to drive us.”
“Or we could walk,” I suggest half-heartedly. I figure Kat will ixnay that plan right away because it’s far for both of us, and it’s kind of cold out. I don’t mind it but she doesn’t seem to own a proper winter coat. To fight the falling temperatures, Kat keeps layering on sweatshirts and thermals and her army coat. She’s practically bulletproof at this point.
“All right,” she says, “we can head up the State Road and split off near the high school.” She unrolls her sleeping bag and wraps it over her shoulders like a big cape. “We’ve got plenty to talk about anyway.”
So we start walking. At first we walk quick, but then we’re slow and leisurely about it, as if this were a summer afternoon. It’s pretty out. The sky is heavy with the threat of snow, and every so often we pass a house lit up with holiday lights.
The whole way, we go through Lillia’s decimation of Reeve. Second by second. Kat has a great memory; she remembers more details than I do. I was so nervous, hoping things would work out the way we’d planned. So I am her captive audience, clinging to every moment.
“I only wish I could have seen Reeve’s stupid mug when Lil shut him down!” Kat whoops. “Damn. You think Lillia’s parents have surveillance cameras?” She turns and faces the wind, and it blows all the hair straight off her face. “I feel like rich people always have security cameras. Plus, her dad’s a little psycho protective over her.”
“They might,” I say with a laugh. “We should ask her!” Kat takes out her phone and texts Lil. “Tell you what, Mary. If they do, I’m going to get you a copy of that shit on infinite loop, so you can watch the moment of Reeve’s heartbreak over and over and over again, whenever you want. Merry Christmas, baby. You’ve been such a good girl this year.”
“Uhh,” I say, and giggle. “Have I?” Kat laughs. “Maybe not by typical Santa standards, but you definitely deserve this.” She gets suddenly serious. “I hope this helps you. Makes things better.”
“It has, Kat. More than you even know.” As soon as I say the words out loud, they feel true.
Kat pumps her fists. Then she starts to sing, “Heartbreaker, love taker, don’t you mess around with me,” and her voice carries on the breeze. We pass a house where a man is up on a ladder, hanging lights, and he almost falls from the shock of it.