“Julia. Joo-lee-uh.” Liv drew out the name.
Charlotte tried to catch Julia’s gaze to impart a silent warning, but the other girl, in true Julia style, didn’t have time for such nonsense.
Have it your way, Jules, Charlotte thought.
“Are you drunk?” Julia cut straight to the meat of the situation as she ignored Charlotte in favor of Liv.
Story of Charlotte’s life.
“Julia Ames.” Liv waved regally at Julia, like she was wearing a tiara and riding a Bison Day float, not slumped up against her father’s tombstone. “Took you long enough to get here.”
Julia finally spared a look for Charlotte. “Is she serious?”
“Deadly serious.” Liv beat Charlotte to an answer. “Get it? Deadly.”
“Liv.” Charlotte cut in before Julia could reply. Julia Ames was not a particularly sensitive individual. She was smart. She was merciless. She was Liv’s best friend. “I know you’re hurting, Livvy, but, sweetie . . .”
Liv stood—without stumbling, with far more grace than she should have been able to muster. “I’m not feeling sweet. I’m tired of sweet. Aren’t you, Julia?” Liv barely paused. “I’m tired of the rules. I’m tired of this place. I want . . .”
Charlotte watched as Liv spread her arms out to the sides, like she was soaking in the sun. Like she could fly.
“I want everything.” Liv closed her eyes. “People live, and they follow the rules, and then they die. Don’t you want more than that, Jules?” Liv’s voice dropped to a whisper as her hands fell back to her side. “I do.”
“We should get her home.” Julia ignored Liv in favor of speaking directly to Charlotte—for once.
We should, Charlotte thought. We should take Liv home and put her to bed. The grief was intense now, but it would get better. Liv would get better.
And things will go right back to the way they’ve always been.
Charlotte stepped toward Liv, responding to her—not Julia. “I do,” Charlotte said. “I want more, Liv. Your daddy said you could do anything you wanted to do in this life. Just this once . . .”
Charlotte knew this was a bad idea, but there was something buzzing inside her—power, maybe, the kind that came from knowing that she could finally break out of the role in which she’d been cast when her family moved to town in the fourth grade.
She didn’t have to be the good girl. The sensitive one. The sidekick.
She didn’t have to be Liv’s second-best friend.
“Just this once,” Charlotte repeated, “I want to break all of the rules.”