CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Stop fidgeting; you’re making me nervous.” Maya yanks me down onto the settee beside her. “Have a bacon-wrapped date.”
She holds her overflowing plate of appetizers under my nose, but I wave off the offer. “You don’t think this is weird?”
Everything about this overly formal holiday barbecue is weird. There’s an ice sculpture of a swan in the kitchen, a Bruce Springsteen cover band in the backyard, and no one stationed at the grill. Mr. Cooke’s friends got the memo based on their crisp polos and slightly less-business-casual slacks. Meanwhile, Dad sticks out like a sore thumb in his Tito Puente T-shirt and ol’ reliable grilling shoes. I’d made fun of Maya for breaking out that jacket, the one that used to belong to Mami, but she’s the only one who’s somewhat up to code, though the violet wig she’s paired with her ensemble makes us stand out more than we already do. It’s kind of nice, actually. The smell of Mami’s perfume comes in lilac waves every time there’s a slight breeze. A calming anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
“It’s super weird, but I’m not here to have a good time.” Maya pushes a mini slider to the edge of her plate so she can sample the potato salad. “I’m here to mooch, dig through their dirty laundry, and bounce.”
“But we haven’t seen Julian, Stella, or Henry yet,” I reply, peeking over the crowd gathered by the bar for any sight of the people who supposedly “begged” for us to be here. Liam’s here, of course, decked out in his Vineyard Vines best. He’s just too busy sticking to Mr. Cooke like a leech to antagonize me.
“Don’t worry.” Maya waves me off, keeping her attention focused on the gaggle of gossiping women opposite us. She’s been eavesdropping on their conversation about their pack leader Evelyn’s affair for the past ten minutes. “They’re probably off doing rich kid things like grooming their horses or ironing their Burberry socks.”
Andy returns to us with a plate so loaded he can barely keep his French fries from spilling over. “Dev, this place is amazing. How come you never let us join you?” He squeezes himself between me and Maya, double-fisting a barbecue slider and a buffalo chicken wrap.
“It’s not usually this exciting,” I mumble, propping my chin up on my fist.
My text to Julian from earlier is still unread:
If he wanted me here so badly, why is he avoiding me like the plague?
Or maybe he doesn’t want you here, I remind myself. There are still two other siblings in this family who could’ve invited us. Though Stella and Henry can’t stand seeing me during the week. Why invite all of us on their day off from my presence?
Maya gasps, clutching her heart when Evelyn reveals that her lover is none other than her sister’s husband. “Rich people really live like they’re in a telenovela,” Maya whispers.
Across the room, Dad and Isabel wrap up their latest conversation, their smiles falling the second they turn around. Unlike the rest of us, they’ve been doing a remarkable job of acting like they wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. They trudge over to us, downing the last of their champagne.
“This is exhausting,” Isabel mutters. “¿El siempre es así?” She juts her chin toward where Mr. Cooke and a gaggle of balding white men are comparing their Rolexes.
“Yep,” Dad, Maya, and I answer at the same time. Confirming that, yes, he is always this obnoxious.
She shudders, grabbing two fresh champagne flutes from a nearby table, handing one of them to Dad. “You’ll need this.”
My phone buzzes and I nearly knock over Andy’s plate in my rush to pull it out of my pocket. But alas, it’s just a spam text about hot singles in my area. “I’m going to take a lap,” I announce to the others, nudging Maya’s foot with my own. “You coming?”
She shakes her head, keeping her attention focused on Evelyn. “I’ll meet up with you in a sec. Keep an eye out for the others.”
Like that night at the country club, I peek through crowds and into mostly empty rooms in search of Julian. The sooner I find him and shake off this nagging feeling, the sooner we can head home.
While this is clearly a catered affair, I still make the kitchen my first stop. A handful of waiters dart carefully around one another, loading up trays of appetizers and sliced fruit to bring out to the tables in the backyard. I nearly walk right into a harried woman carrying a vat of what smells like New England clam chowder.
“Hey.”
I turn at the sound of Julian’s voice cutting through the chatter in the kitchen. He appears at the top of the stairs, dressed more casually than me. “What’re you doing here?” he asks, pulling out one of his headphones.
“You invited us?” I reply, the excitement I’d felt about finding him fizzling. “Or I guess one of your siblings did.”
Julian’s lips part, and his brow furrows as he lets out a confused “Uuuuuh…that’s weird.”
I fold my arms across my chest, unsure what to do with myself now that I know I’m not wanted. “Should I be concerned?”
Our answer comes bounding down the stairs. Stella looks like she just ran a marathon, cheeks flushed and hair up in a messy bun. It’s the least put together I’ve ever seen her, and the happiest she’s ever been to see me.
“You made it!” she exclaims, pushing past her brother to loop her arm through mine.
The shock of seeing her smile instead of scowl at me leaves me at a loss for words. Did we make a wrong turn somewhere and wind up in a different dimension? Because this is not the timeline I know.
She starts tugging me toward a nearby hallway, but Julian steps in her way. “Did you invite them?”
“Duh. Aren’t you the one who’s always saying we should be nicer to him?”
The thought of Julian trying to bridge the gap between me and his siblings is sweet, but the reality is unsettling. I’d rather Stella hate my guts than whatever this is.
“And Maya too!” Stella shouts. Maya freezes in the entrance to the kitchen, halfway into a bite of a cannoli.
“Uh, hi.” She covers her mouth as she finishes chewing. “Did I miss something?”
Stella shakes her head, abandoning me to pull Maya along instead. “These things are so boring. Usually we skip them, and Dad never notices. You can hang with us, though.”
Maya and I exchange wary glances but let her lead the way. Julian follows at a distance, looking more confused than we do. Stella pulls open a door that I’d always thought led to another pantry but reveals a flight of stairs plunging into darkness. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know not to go anywhere near a dark, creepy basement.
“Nuh-uh.” Maya finagles her way out of Stella’s grip, coming to stand beside me. “That screams serial killer.”
Stella rolls her eyes, heading halfway down the stairs and pulling on a chain dangling from the ceiling. The overhead light flickers, and the most outlandish den I’ve ever seen comes to life. Maya and I hold on to each other with one hand and clutch the banister for dear life with the other. I bite back the urge to gasp, the room somehow growing more unbelievable with every step.
Plush couches and armchairs surround the room’s centerpiece, a television so massive I can’t figure out how the wall is supporting its weight. A row of pinball machines and arcade games light up like Christmas trees. Bowls of candies litter every surface; jars of popcorn and homemade cookies rest atop the bar in the corner of the room. The bar is a gleaming beacon of liquid courage, dozens of untouched, clearly top-shelf bottles in a locked cabinet behind the counter.
“Holy shit,” Maya says under her breath.
I follow her eyes to a row of framed movie posters, all of them signed by at least one member of the cast. Holy shit indeed. The posters, like most things about the Seo-Cookes, make me feel painfully out of my element. We knew they were loaded, but I’d underestimated them by a tax bracket or two. Up until now, I’ve rolled my eyes at the overly posh nonsense they spend their unearned wealth on, but I wouldn’t mind having a basement like this.
Stella loses interest in us as soon as she sits down, pulling out her phone. The grind never stops, as influencers love to remind the plebian public.
Julian gestures for us to make ourselves comfortable. “Can I get you guys anything to eat?”
Maya shakes her head, dusting her powdered sugar–coated fingers off on the hem of her skirt. “We’re good.” She nudges her elbow into my ribs, leaning in to whisper, “Don’t trust any food you didn’t serve yourself.”
While I appreciate her concern, I’m well past worrying that Julian is poisoning my food by now. He’s had me in the palm of his hand for over a week, and the worst thing he’s done is accidentally over-salt his pasta water.
Julian takes a seat across from the two of us, glaring daggers at his sister. She’s tapping at top speed like she has something to prove.
“So.” Julian gives up on his sister and refocuses on us. “Want to watch a movie? Dev and I were talking about working our way through the Lord of the Rings since I’ve never seen them, but that might be a lot for one sitting.”
“Since when does he call you Dev?” Maya whispers to me.
That’s a story for another day, maybe never. “Sure,” I tell Julian, ignoring my sister. “But maybe something with less orcs.”
“Nerds,” Maya says, loud enough this time for both of us to hear. I go to shove her with my shoulder, but she stands up before I can. “If we’re going full-on dork, let me get Andy. He lives for this kind of stuff.” She shoots me a wink as she heads toward the stairs. An obvious lie to anyone who’s had more than two conversations with Andy. He couldn’t tell an orc from an elf. My guess is she’s off to do her digging, leaving me to distract the wolves. I get one last subtle whiff of her jacket before she leaves, but even Mami’s scent doesn’t do anything to calm my nerves.
“Wait!” Stella shouts, nearly throwing her phone across the room as she races over to Maya. I’m ready to pounce if she tries to hurt her, but what comes next is even more upsetting.
Stella hugs her.
Maya goes rigid in the embrace, her face screwed up in a mix of confusion and discomfort. Even Julian sits up stiff as a board, the two of us on the edge of our seats.
“I’m so happy you decided to come,” Stella says, still not letting go, her face tucked deep into Maya’s curls.
“Uh…you’re welcome?” Maya gives me a panicked look, but there’s nothing I can do short of pulling them apart. Maybe this is just Stella’s weird way of playing nice? One thing I’ve learned this year is that kindness comes with a steep learning curve.
Stella pulls away, flashing Maya a too-sweet smile before grabbing her phone and heading back to her seat without another word. She plops back onto the armchair, kicks her feet up on the coffee table, and starts texting again like nothing happened. Maya stays in place, mouthing, What do I do? to me and Julian. The two of us shrug. There’s little relief in knowing that Julian is concerned too.
Maya backs away slowly, waiting until she’s made it to the staircase to bolt. She’s out of sight for a fraction of a second.
And then she starts screaming.
Pure adrenaline jerks me out of my seat and sends me flying up the stairs. I’m not a violent person, but I’m prepared to claw apart whatever, whoever, made my sister scream like that.
The top of the staircase looks like a culinary crime scene. Clam chowder instead of blood, a half-empty bucket instead of a weapon. My sister instead of a body.
She’s curled up in the mess, her violet wig knocked askew and stained with chunks of clam and potato, the embroidered roses on her jacket barely visible beneath the gunk. I kneel down beside her, pushing through the unfortunate smell of soup to help her into a sitting position. The screams die down as soon as I’m with her, melting down to quiet, whimpered sobs. She holds on to my arm so tight it burns, her fingernails digging crescent moons into my already bruised skin, but I push the pain down and let her hold on as hard as she has to.
A cold, hollow cackle draws my attention away from Maya. Henry and Liam stand side by side a few feet away; Liam laughing until his cheeks turn pink while Henry records the spectacle on his phone. Henry blinks up at me with those stupid dopey eyes, shaking his head as he starts to lower his phone. Without thinking, I let go of Maya and lunge at him, grabbing the phone and throwing it to the ground with all the force I have left in me. It cracks on impact, but that’s not enough. I want to crush it until it’s nothing, until it’s as broken as they’ve left my sister.
“What the hell!” Liam shouts on Henry’s behalf, shoving me back from the two of them.
“Fuck you!” I snap back, taking the opportunity to grab the phone and throw it to the ground a second time. The force shatters it the rest of the way. Finally, Apple’s shitty hardware design comes in handy.
Julian stumbles up the stairs, nearly slipping on the chowder. “What is wrong with you?!” The question is aimed at Henry.
“C’mon, we had to. They did the salami thing, so now it’s our turn,” Stella replies in between hiccupped laughs as she trails behind him. The laughter dies once she gets a look at the scene at the top of the stairs. Her smile morphs into a frown, her gaze suddenly shifting to Liam. “It was his idea.”
That doesn’t surprise me. That damn hike managed to wreak havoc on me even when I didn’t go. “You think this shit is funny?” I wave the last remaining pieces of Henry’s phone in front of Liam’s face. “Hurting someone like that?”
“Oh please,” Liam scoffs, shoving my hand out of his face. “First off, that little stunt was meant for you. You’re lucky she came up first. And you’ve both been doing the same thing since you got here. You can’t get mad because we decided to punch back.”
We? The war our families waged has never been just or fair, but it’s only ever been between us. Liam doesn’t get to rewrite history, insert himself somewhere he doesn’t belong. Whatever problem he has with me stays with me.
“This doesn’t involve you,” I spit back, knowing that I should stop there. Instead, my anger boils over, too fast and too scalding for me to hold in. “But you’ve never cared about boundaries, huh? If you did, you’d know to fuck off and stop trying to make passes at the guy who dumped you.”
Liam goes beet red down to his frosted roots, and while he still towers over me, I’ve never felt taller.
“For the record”—his voice is low, strained as if the lightest touch would make him snap—“I broke up with him.”
While that doesn’t change what I think of him, his reply does spark Julian back into action.
“That’s enough.” Julian grabs Stella by the arm and carefully sidesteps around Maya to drag her toward Henry. “You two could’ve just shut up and been respectful like I asked, but no! You’re assholes.” He pauses, rounding on Liam this time. “All of you.”
With the others occupied, I rush back over to Maya. I wipe the chowder out of her eyes, pushing synthetic hair and clam bits off her face. “You okay?” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Can we go home?”
My arm is around her before she’s finished asking, delicately helping her stand back up. I guide her toward the back door at the end of the kitchen. Once we’re home, we can text the others to get the hell out. The commotion behind us is a dull din, ringing in my ears as we rush out of the house. We’re halfway across the backyard, shielding ourselves from dirty stares, when a hand closes around my arm.
“Devin, I’m so sorry,” Julian pants out, struggling to catch his breath. “I swear, I had no idea, and if I did, I would’ve—”
“Let me go, Julian.” I’m not mad at him. If anything, I’m grateful that we have him as a buffer between us and the real enemies. But I can’t look at him, not right now.
He lets me go without question, backing away to give us space. He might’ve said something else, something about texting him if we need anything, but I only care about Maya.
We fall apart once we’ve made it back to the cabin. Maya’s whimpers shift into sobs as we rush to the kitchen to turn on the tap. She peels herself out of the jacket, pushing away the damp towel I hold to her face to wipe at the sleeves instead. The chowder gunk is gone after some careful scrubbing, the leather marred with scratches and the first signs of peeled edges. We lean in too close, holding the jacket like a lifeline, bracing ourselves for the scent of lilac to keep us grounded.
But it’s gone now. Just like that, they’ve taken a piece of Mami away from us. The first of many, if they get their way.
We sink to the floor, soaked in chowder and freshly shed tears, holding the jacket reverently between our laps. It’s only a matter of time before the others come home. Even without the warning, the news must’ve spread.
My hand finds Maya’s, our fingers linked on top of the jacket. There’s nothing worth saying that’ll make either of us feel any better, not plans for revenge or insults or schemes. So we say nothing and split the pain. The way we always have.