Page 4 of The Glass Girl

Amber touches my hand. “Hey,” she says. “We’re just looking out for you.”

I nod, breathe in deeply. Take another drink.

“Don’t point that toward me,” Cherie tells Kristen, waving her hands in front of her face. “My mother will kill me if she smells anything weird. I’m already going to have to Febreze the hell out of this jacket.”

Kristen makes a face. “Just take me to Cole’s, pleeeasssse,” she begs Amber. “I’ll get a ride home. Love you, Bella, but we shouldn’t have to suffer just because of your broken heart.”

“Thanks for the support,” I say sarcastically, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Fine,” Amber says. “But Bella stays with me.”

—

We watch Kristen weave up the drive to Cole’s house. He lives in the foothills, a fancy, sprawling place with huge windows and a glossy, heated pool out back. That might make him sound like some popular rich kid, but only the rich part is right. He’s just a kid whose parents don’t care if he parties. They buy the alcohol and then they leave for the night, and at that point, it really doesn’t matter who you are at school. If you have the drinks and an empty house, people will converge. I don’t even know most of the people at these things and I supposedly go to school with them.

I can’t help it, but my eyes scan the packs of kids outside the house for Dylan.

Cherie says, “Sorry, but I don’t want to waste this night, either,” and jumps out of the car, running after Kristen. My heart drops when I see our bottle of vodka in her hand. I check my Sprodka. Not enough.

I climb into the passenger seat.

Amber looks at me.

“It’s cool,” I say. “If you want to stay. I’ll behave. I will.”

Part of me hopes she’ll say yes so I can look for Dylan.

She shakes her head. “Nah, you’re not ready. I gotta get home anyway. My mom needs the car for her shift tonight and I’m on Lily duty. You can stay over if you want. We can Couch.”

Couchmeans hanging out in her living room, watching movies and YouTube, eating junky snacks, but no drinking. That’s not allowed at Amber’s house.

“Not tonight,” I say. “I should probably just go home, hang out with my mom. I have to work tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

—

It takes about twenty minutes to get from the foothills back to midtown. We’re on River Road, which is curvy, like a beautiful roller coaster. Amber is a careful driver, and the car’s headlights illuminate the prickly pears on the side of the road, each one an eerie, spiky green ghost. It feels almost like we’re floating in a dreamworld, a weightless, half-glowing thing.

I sip my Sprodka slowly, savoring it, being careful. I can’t have too much in front of Amber or she’ll get weirded out. She’s being quiet right now, and it’s peaceful.

I feel like if I could just stay in the car with Amber forever, slightly buzzed, feeling warm and safe, not lost, that would be perfect.

But I can’t.

—

Amber turns down my street.

My brain says:Lie to her.

My heart says:Oh, Bella.

Casually, I say, “Actually, can you just drop me at Laurel’s? I forgot my mom asked me to check on the house.”

“You want me to wait and take you home? I can come in. I love Laurel’s house. I miss it. I miss her.”

That last part she kind of whispers.

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