Chapter Twenty Six

Hindsight is 20/20, at least that's how the saying goes. If I had basic detective skills, I would've found my friends' absences suspicious and at least 'cased the joint' before going in. The fastest route home led to my front door. I didn't walk around my house to see if cars were in the driveway. I peeked into the window, saw that my living room was empty and went inside.

Closing the front door triggered a stampede from upstairs. Faith and Saylor tripped over each other on their way down, but both made it to the living room intact. I could tell by their puffy cheeks that they'd been bawling their eyes out for God knows how long. Faith slapped the shit out of me, then collapsed on the floor with her face in her hands.

Saylor wrapped me up in a bone splitting hug. "I'm so sorry!" played like a broken record. I caught on to what he was saying the fifth time and on. Gentle giant ugly sobbing really screwed with his enunciation. I felt awkward having him apologize since Faith and I were the ones who trashed his room. He had every right to kick us out. I would've kicked us out.

"What can I do? Say something? I swear I didn't know! I'd never, not if I knew!"

I pulled away from him. I couldn't deal with him right then. All I wanted to do was change out of these jeans. "You don't have to do anything, neither of you."

I sounded more irritated than I meant to. Faith stalked me as I headed upstairs. Saylor started crying again. He probably thought I was done with him forever after the one time he stood up for himself. I'd clear that up later. Him taking charge was a plant I had always wanted to water. A giant with a mean streak would've been a beautiful thing. Freshman year, I had imagined ruling high school like a helpless mob boss with Saylor as my bruiser.

Better late than never.

Faith grabbed my wrist before I made it up the top step. She dug her nails into it. "You can hate me. I know I hate you sometimes, now even, but if I call you" —her tough guy act fell away as she tripped on her words— "tell me you're alive... that you're safe at least."

She lost it completely and wept as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I had to pull her up a step, so she wouldn't notice the wet patch. This was a big deal though. Faith never made phone calls. I wasn't sure she knew how. I couldn't recall ever talking to her on the phone, not once. Skyping Saylor didn't count because I made the calls and she was talking to me in person.

She wasn't mute. The girl was loud. She needed to be mu-ted. She never shut up and couldn't keep an opinion to herself. If it was the pin to a grenade in her body, she'd have blown herself to smithereens.

"My phone, it's under my bed," I said softly, "I'd never ignore your calls."

She was resting the side of her head on my rib cage when I heard her sniff. I moved away, but I didn't panic. I was sure it was the sniffles from crying.

"Oh?" she asked.

I nodded. She stretched a nervous laugh a few seconds beyond its sell-by date. I panicked when she started walking away, into my room.

"What's it doing there?" She sounded casual, like she'd asked about the weather. She pulled her phone out and shined its light under my bed.

"So I wouldn't talk to Juice, like we agreed," I said. She nodded, but said nothing. "He did call me. I ignored it." No response. She was fully focused on finding my phone. I couldn't believe she was so desperate to catch me in a lie. "I'm not lying. It's there, unless Mom took it." Faith laid flat on her stomach, grunting as she crawled under my bed. She was still ignoring me. "Do you see it? I can pull the bed out to make it easier." I ran to the foot of it.

"No!" Faith shouted. I heard her head hit the bed frame. "I see it. Just, stop. Okay?"

"Well, Sor-ry."

I grimaced as I stepped away from my bed. My hands, held up in submission. She couldn't see me, but it was the appropriate response to her testiness. I turned and saw Saylor looking at me from out in the hall, so my reaction hadn't completely gone to waste. He looked like a mess though, like he'd never smile again. I smiled for him and waved him inside. He hesitated. It was like I was luring a feral kitten into a trap.

"Come on in, I'm not gonna hurtcha big guy," I said in an infantilizing tone. I met him at the door and pulled him the rest of the way inside. He was taking forever. "I'm sorry we tr—double trashed your room. We're good if you let us help organize it a smidgen." I winced with pinched fingers.

"Don't try and pimp me out as your cleaning lady, tu locas en la cabeza," Faith said as she shot up from the floor. She had my phone in her hand. I reached for it as she rammed the screen up to my face.

"Unlock it," she said sternly. I reached for it again, but she pulled it away. "No, hold your face still." She waved it in my face, but I swatted it away with my eyes closed.

"Oh no, not unless you give me yours," I said, grinning.

She never let me look through her phone. She was secretive, in that way. She took her phone out of her back pocket, but she didn't hand it to me. It took me a second to realize what she was doing.

I grabbed her hand to stop her frantic thumbing. "No, don't delete stuff!"

"Burn everything!" Saylor shouted, imitating something—probably the Wolf of Wall Street.

I turned toward him, certain I'd heard a smile. It was already gone if there had been one at all. I turned back to Faith and yanked the phones out of her hands while she was thumbing. She tried to get them back, but I held them high above my head, out of her reach. She punched my arm. I turned and made a break for the hall. Hers was still unlocked.

"Stop!" she shouted. I stopped. "I sent horrible texts. I didn't mean them. I just, needed you to respond, even if you'd never forgive me."

There was desperation in her voice. I never thought she kid-gloved me. I couldn't think of a single thing she could've said that I wouldn't have forgiven instantly. I was intrigued and terrified.

"Fine, but tell me what they're about," I said, holding her phone out as bait, but making sure it didn't lock.

She shook her head with hands steepled in front of her face. There were a few messages in all caps on the screen, but I didn't read them. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"Then, agree I can talk to Juice still. I came out, like you said." I waved the phone out in front of her like it was a Scooby Snack.

She nodded, so I let her take them. She knew me better than anyone, so I believed her. I didn't think words could ruin me, but if they could, this wasn't how I wanted to find out.

I had to change to the subject. "Juice, Juiced me in the bathroom. That's why I came home early." I bounced my eyebrows. "So, I guess he's the juicer now."

I knew it was wrong to kiss and tell, but there wasn't a world that existed where I didn't tell my besties about my action with Juice. They suffered through three years of constant whining. They had to know it wasn't all for nothing.

Saylor turned from where he was sitting. "He punched you in the face?"

I pursed my lips. He wasn't firing completely in the dark. Jocks referred to punching a nose bloody as 'juicing them', but use a context clue.

"So, that's why you smell like bleach?" Faith asked. It wasn't a question. My smile retreated. This was going to be the funeral kiss all over again. "Did he actually touch your" —she whistled— "like, the actual skin?"

Damn Faith and her specificity. Who asks that? He did touch it, actually touch it. He didn't touch the skin with his skin, but I didn't see how that mattered. No one ever argued whether safe sex was still sex. Faith wouldn't go for that, but I could still save myself.

"We were making out in the bathroom stall and" —I released one of the many moans I'd bit back for Jerome's sake as I gestured to my waist— "our hands wandered all over each other." That was an intentional misdirection, but still true.

"Toco la piel de tu pene, si or no?" Faith asked, crossing her arms. She was impossible. I shook my head. I stumbled over to my bed with slumped shoulders and fell down on top of it. Here we go, I thought. "So, I'm confused. How does one get" —she snapped her fingers, as if summoning the word— "juiced, is it, without being touched? Unless..." Each word was drawing her nearer to laughter.

Saylor stood to leave. Sex talk was a Faith and me thing. He never shared fantasies or experiences and rarely stayed around to listen. It annoyed me. He could've taken either one or both of those guys from the party to bone town and I'd never know. At least this time I could use that to my advantage.

"No!" I shouted, hugging him from the side, "I don't want him to go. We're done talking about this!"

I sneered over at Faith in disgust, as if she was the one who brought everything up. She rolled her eyes. All was well.

#####

Faith drove me to work after I got her and Saylor caught up on everything. I had planned on skipping. I really didn't want to go and not having a car or home seemed like a good enough reason to me. Apparently, it wasn't. It was the type of mentality that made homelessness a vicious cycle, was what Saylor had told me. I relented.

It was high time I dealt with Martha and her stupid boyfriend. Besides, Faith wouldn't have taken no for an answer. Telling her about Blake earned me at least a week's worth of coddling. I made her promise not to do or say anything. If she did, Juice might want a refund and I doubted it'd play out like one of my fantasies.

I also told her about Tía's reaction when I mentioned my father. I was glad she agreed it was strange. She invited me to stay with her and left it at that, but I could tell wheels were turning in her head.