I pulled open the Civic door and scrunched myself into the backseat. “Thanks.”
We rode to Posie’s family’s church in silence. Neither of them asked the questions I knew must be on their minds. Why my mentees? Why me? Because how can you ask a question like that without it sounding like some kind of accusation? So instead, they said nothing.
I sat beside Anh in the back of the church with my hands tucked under me, and my legs folded tight at the ankle. Jeremy sat on her other side, her leg crossed at the knee, angled toward his. She cried silently into a clean lace hanky. My own tears slid steadily down over my chin.
When it was over, Posie’s family took up quiet places beside her open casket. The receiving line moved slowly, relatives and students pausing to hug or shake hands with her parents. I wiped my palms over my jeans as we neared the front of the line, made an excuse about needing to use the bathroom, and waited outside until it was over.
Silent and numb, we loaded into Jeremy’s car and followed a caravan of students to Teddy’s graveside service on the other side of town. We stood on the outside edge of a large circle of mourners. The soccer team was there to acknowledge the loss of their water boy. Vince stood tall in a dark designer suit, hands folded and head bowed. I watched, bitter, as he approached Teddy’s mother and reached for her hand. He held it while he spoke to her, paying day late respects to her lost son, a kid he never had a kind word for until he was lying in a hole.
As if reading my thoughts, Jeremy shook his head and whispered, “Amazing, isn’t it? How they all see him now?” He watched the endless receiving line with a look of fascination. His hand wandered to his chest where his camera would normally be.
Anh took a deep, shaky breath and rested her head on Jeremy’s shoulder. The thought of getting in the backseat of Jeremy’s car again was unbearable. When I walked away from the service, across the cemetery, I was pretty sure neither of them noticed.
It was dusk when I got off the city bus and stared down the potholed mouth of Sunny View. Every inch of me felt heavy, and I walked slowly toward home. Music blared from Lonny Johnson’s trailer, and strange cars lined both sides of the street. Kylie hung over the railing of his front porch.
“Boswell!” she called, heavy-lidded and unsteady on her feet. “Come party with us!” After two funerals, I didn’t have the energy to shout back. I half smiled and kept walking. “Come on,” she sang loudly after me. “Your boyfriend’s here!”
I slowed and looked at the line of parked cars, finding Reece’s motorcycle wedged in it. I hesitated, unsure, and glanced back at my own trailer. The shades were drawn tight. Mona might not notice. Even so, I’d rather gouge my eyes out than step foot inside Lonny Johnson’s front door. But how would it look to him if I turned away now?
Lonny’s door flung open and Reece stepped out, a cigarette dangling between his lips. He held a beer can in his hand, laughing and talking with one of Kylie’s friends, a bleach-blonde with dark roots and heavy eye makeup, and boobs too big for her frame. Kylie elbowed him hard in the ribs and jerked her chin at me. Reece’s eyes found mine and his face sobered. He handed the blonde his beer without looking at her. Then he flicked his cigarette and directed his exhale to the ground in a move that looked entirely too practiced.
“Leigh, wait up,” he called, but I was already walking. He vaulted the porch rail and caught me halfway down the street. “Leigh, wait.”
I made it two steps before Reece grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind my neighbor’s trailer, out of sight of Kylie and her friend. I swayed a little at the touch of his fingers on my skin, my lips tingling and my head suddenly light. He stopped short, pulling me in close, steadying us both. He was drunk. I ripped my hand from his, bracing myself against the trailer while I waited for the fog in my head to clear. His face was flushed and he looked at me with glassy eyes. “I can explain.”
“You don’t need to explain. I know who you are.”
“Do you? Because that would make one of us.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to sober himself.
I stepped back. He was entirely too close. No good could come of this conversation. “I’m tired, Reece. I just came from two funerals. All I want is to go home.”
“Is it so unbelievable that I want the same?” He threw an arm toward Lonny’s trailer. “I have to be here. I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. You can choose to leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not like you! I’m like them. A year ago, I was just like Lonny. I was at the bottom of the food chain and I was hungry. I wanted the big car and the hot girls and the fat wallet and I didn’t care who got hurt. There are only two ways out of places like this—the quick way or the right way. I chose the wrong one. And now I’m stuck here. And the only way to fix what I’ve done is to keep guys like Lonny from stealing that choice from people like you.” He rubbed his eyes and cussed. They were bloodshot and weary. “Don’t you see? I have to go to his screwed-up parties. I have to drink his booze and hang out with his friends and put up with girls that don’t have half the guts or brains that you do. I have to be someone I don’t like—someone you don’t trust—to make him trust me—”
I put a hand up to stop him, still buzzing from his touch. I didn’t want to know what he was doing behind Lonny’s closed doors. It was painful to think about, and I didn’t want to overanalyze why. “I know, I know . . . so we can get Lonny’s list of ketamine buyers. I get it.”
“You don’t get anything! I can’t keep making this about you! I came to West River for one reason. To destroy Lonny. To set him up for a big fucking fall and put him behind bars for good. I can’t lose sight of what side I’m on, just because you show up on the hood of Lonny’s car and turn everything upside down.”
Reece was suddenly quiet. He swallowed hard, looking like he’d said too much. If he was so angry, why was he standing so close? If I turned everything upside down, why wasn’t he walking away?
“I don’t understand,” I said, wanting to touch him without feeling drunk. Wanting to feel the things I saw in his eyes that his lips weren’t saying. “I thought we were on the same side. I thought . . . I thought we wanted the same thing.”
We did, didn’t we? Want the same thing?
His eyes crinkled, confused. “Maybe I don’t know what I want anymore.”
He leaned in slowly, lips parting and hesitating close. His breath was warm against my face. Beer and other things that blurred the lines between us when he touched me. The way Jeremy had blurred the lines the first time he got drunk and tried to kiss me.
“I should go,” I said, pulling out of reach. He looked down at his feet as I turned to leave.
“Why’d you do it, anyway?” He wore a self-deprecating look, hands stuffed in his pockets while he kicked at the gravel.
“Do what?”
“Why waste your time saving someone who can’t be fixed?”
I folded my arms over my chest, tucking my hands under them as I backed away, wishing I could kiss him without caring how he felt. “Maybe you’re not the only one who’s broken.”