Page 69 of On the Beat

Some strange, pulsing, screaming, clawing creature drags its talons across my ribcage, slices open my heart. I have no idea what it is, but I can’t listen to it, no matter how it stings.

“Yeah. We’re not anything serious.” I nod. “This is fake.”

She laughs–laughs–like we haven’t said anything of meaning. Because we haven’t. “Great. Then, let’s go. I heard there’s a birthday party to attend.”

Chapter 32: Isla Romero

Paulo’s visceral discomfort with having a birthday party thrown for him is almost comical.

Although, maybe the comicality comes more from the lime-green garland being wrapped around his neck, the conical lime-green hat on his head that’s better suited for a kid’s birthday party, and the fact that he’s being used as a jungle gym by every child in the place.

“Did you flavour his cake with lime? Why is Paulo making that face?” Ryder asks me, coming down the stairs with wet hair, the strands at his nape dripping onto the collar of his shirt.

“It’s chocolate, so no,” I say. “I suspect he’s making that face because he didn’t want us to throw a party of this magnitude for him. I’m sure he thought it would be a small get-together.”

“He is being attacked by children.” Across the yard, a group of children of varying ages hold limes in their hands and look like they’re using Paulo for target practice. “Come on, do you want to go rescue him?”

“I guess we have to, since we’re the ones who decided to throw this party for him.” I hop off of my barstool, bringing my guava juice with me, and we traipse toward the outdoor dining area, where Paulo is enjoying a slice of cake.

Well, enjoying might be too strong a word for it. More like… clinging to it with dear life as the only thing in this party that he can remotely find joy in.

“This isn’t going to end well for him.” Ryder leans close to whispers in my ear as we weave through the crowd. His height allows him to maneuver more easily past the other guests, who are all chatting fiercely in Tagalog while the catering staff set up the buffet-style dinner and slice the birthday cake.

I nod. “He’s holding onto the cake like it’s his only lifeline.”

We arrive at the table and, finally, Ryder looks expectantly at me. “I thought you were going to invent an emergency.”

“You’re the one who suggested we rescue him!”

“Guys, I can hear everything you’re saying.” He turns to the children. “If you’re going to pelt anyone with limes, at least hit all the party guests equally.”

Ryder clears his throat. “Sorry about that, Paulo. We may have gotten a few too many limes.” His use of the wordwemakes my heart do something strange. I want him to say it again. I want there to be morewes andusandours; I want us to last. I want us to be real. But how can we weather any storms together when we don’t even stand beneath the same umbrella? “But on the bright side, at least there’s cake.”

Eddie comes running up to us holding exactly that, his face alight with a smile.

However, he trips over an uneven patch in the grass, and the cake smashes into Paulo’s leg, splattering icing on the hem of his shorts. The cake also splatters against Eddie’s face, arms, and hands. “Oops.”

Ryder fights back a laugh. “Speak of the devil.”

“Mom always said it was bad to speak of the devil,” Eddie says innocently, looking up at us. “Sorry about your pants,KuyaPaulo.”

I choke on my guava juice. “Just can’t catch a break, can you, Paulo?”

“No. Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay, buddy?” Paulo steers Eddie inside toward the bathroom, leaving me and Ryder standing alone on the porch.

“You planned that, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I specifically told Eddie to run through the party and get Paulo’s shorts dirty on his birthday, just so I could get you alone,” Ryder says. “No. He’s my best friend and probably the only true friend I have left.”

“Wow.” Deep words all of a sudden. “He’s seriously the only true friend you have left?”

“When you find out your sister has been selling your secrets onMuse Unmasked, life suddenly gets a lot lonelier,” he mutters. “Crap. I… I meant to keep her secret.”

My heart patters. Poppy Black was behindMuse Unmasked? I think of all the truths I can find on the blog, everything I can use to write my article… What if I could get in touch with her? No, I can’t do that to Ryder. Can I?

“Why? She didn’t keep yours.” If one of my brothers exposed all ofmysecrets—well, I can’t imagine how I’d react. Then again, didn’t I come here to write an expose on him? “What’s the harm in telling me?”

“You’re on the other side,” he says. “What if you’re a double agent?”

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