‘There y’are!’ Kurt cries. ‘Quick, we’ve gotta run, babe. Now!’
‘What?’ I say, still sitting on a wooden bench outside the café. ‘Why?’
Kurt grabs my hand and drags me through the car park. When we reach my car, Ryan is already in the driver’s seat with the motor running. Kurt hurls open the front passenger door and nudges me in, before throwing himself onto the back seat. Ryan checks the rear-view mirror, then tears away, narrowly missing hitting a van.
I struggle with my seatbelt as Kurt and Ryan cheer. ‘What’s going on?’
Ryan howls with laughter as he slaps the steering wheel. ‘That was close, man. Few minutes more and you’da been busted for sure.’
I scowl at Kurt. ‘For what? What did you do?’
‘It’s more what we didn’t do.’ He holds up the bill.
My mind races. ‘Turn the car around right now. We have to go back and pay.’
‘It’s fine,’ Ryan says, winding down his window. ‘They won’t even care.’
‘I want to be able to show my face in this town. Go back.’
Kurt shrugs — whatever — and looks out the window.
I slump in my seat, feeling suffocated, wishing I was anywhere but here, with anyone but him.
I hunt around the car for my sunnies, partly to block out the glare, partly to block out everyone and everything. They aren’t in the glovebox with my lip glosses, or in the side compartment with old junk mail. Sighing, I check the armrest between the driver and passenger seat. There’s no sign of them on top, so I rummage through to see if they’ve fallen down the side.
Kurt blurts something from the back seat, but it’s too late to distract me. I’ve already seen it.
A zip-locked bag filled with rainbow pills.
I hurl the bag at him.
‘Shit, it’s a mate’s, babe!’ he says, waving it in the air. ‘I dunno how it got in ya car. I swear.’
‘You told me you’d never touch that stuff.’
‘Believe me. I’m done.’
‘Which is it?’ My voice is sharp. ‘“A mate’s” or “you’re done”?’
‘Ya getting me all confused. Just trust me, babe.’
‘God, I can’t … how can I? And you shouldn’t trust me either.’
‘What?’
I take a breath. ‘I can’t do this any more.’
Kurt rolls his eyes. ‘Babe, come on, you’re overreacting. It’s just a little —’
‘No! It’s not. This is too much. I … no. I’ll move out, okay? Just … just give me a week to sort something.’
‘You’re seriously doing this? Now?’ There’s not a trace of softness left in his voice.
My fists tighten in my lap. ‘Yeah. One of us can sleep on the couch while we —’
‘I’m not sleeping on the couch again.’ His jaw clenches. ‘You’re making a huge mistake.’
Ryan keeps driving, and turns up the radio while Kurt and I argue about lies and broken promises and every stupid thing we’ve ever done to each other. We scream until my throat burns.
* * *
Milo: Hey, friend. How was the rest of your day?
Layla: Just friggin’ peachy, friend
Milo: Nice
Milo: Sweet dreams, friend
Layla: Slippery slope, friend
Milo: Dear Miss Montgomery, I hope you have adequate sleep tonight and feel well-rested on Sunday morning. Regards, your friend, Mr Dark
Layla: Better
Milo: That’s what friends are for
Layla: Cluck you