Tom. Even in my thoughts, his name sends a twist of nausea through my stomach, the creeping sense of a nightmare made real. It’s why I hate turning the lights off and going to bed. The darkness crawls right inside me and expands, a vast, gaping maw that I swear one night is going to swallow me whole.
Anxiety tightens my skin, singing along my nerves. I fling off the sheets and jump to the floor, my feet padding across the smooth, cool hardwood. While my thumbs fly over the keyboard, I pace the room, trying to purge the negative energy.
I’m in, I text Jordan. Can you tell me more about the party? Like what I should wear? What about the host, what’s his story?
Can’t talk now babe, she replies. Deets later.
She sends me a kiss-wink emoji, her usual sign-off. I’m bummed at the quick end to the conversation, but Jordan is probably exhausted. And I should try to get some sleep.
I set the phone back on the nightstand and slither deeper into the sheets. Instead of the gaping chasm of my future, or the sickening sense of betrayal that accompanies memories of Tom, I focus on Jordan’s description of the party.
A whole room for VR tech? Five-star catering? High-end loot? Sounds like my kind of fun.
I drift off into dreams of mile-long catered buffets and lazy rivers—until I’m bounced awake by something large and gangly crashing onto my bed. When I open my eyes, the sun shoots into them. “Ow! Serenity, lower the shades.”
The smart house obediently darkens the room. My parents named it for the spaceship in this random sci-fi show they watched while they were dating. It was either that or “Mikasa,” which my mom thought was hilarious since it’s the name of an anime character she likes and also sounds like mi casa. I vetoed that pun.
My parents are way too nerdy for this house—and this entire elegant neighborhood.
“So this is how Daisy Finnegan spends her summer? Sleeping through the best part of the day?” Nick, my long-legged, blue-eyed cousin, lounges at the foot of my bed, sporting a pale-pink BTS T-shirt and vintage acid-wash jeans.
“Nick,” I groan, falling back onto my pillows. “Why are you screwing with my beauty sleep? Just…why?”
“I’m sorry, I think you mean, ‘Ooh Nicky, my darling, how lovely of you to come and see me today!’”
I hurl a pillow at him, which he catches expertly. “You know better than to expect politeness from me before coffee.”
“True,” he admits. “I’m meeting Jordan this morning for a shoot, and I told her I’d bring you along.”
I prop myself on my elbows. “Why?”
“Because she pays me, hon. I have the incredible honor of being the only white boy she allows to touch her hair.”
“I know that, but why me?” The timing is odd. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned it in her text last night if she wanted me there?
Nick purses his lips and looks away. “Well…your mom may have mentioned that since you came home, you’ve been in your room a lot. And also…not showering often.”
“So this is what, some kind of intervention?”
“Not at all, babe. Think of it as family and friends checking in, making sure your summer rocks.” He smiles way too brightly. “Now get up and shower.”
“Hmm,” I mumble, lying back and plopping the second pillow onto my face. “Don’t have to shower. Will swim in pool later.”
“Chlorine doesn’t equal soap, precious. You need to cleanse and condition. Come on, out of bed.” He wriggles one hand under the sheets to tweak my toes, and I yelp.
“Fine, I’m up,” I growl. “Screw you.”
“Love you too.”
Nick has chosen my outfit by the time I get done showering—cute shorts, a blousy tank, and dangly earrings. I don’t complain because he used to do that for me all the time when we were in high school together, and it’s kinda sweet that he’s trying to bring back the good old days.
I swap out the many studs in my upper ears for fresh ones in the shape of tiny stars and moons and shove my feet into flip-flops that are way too expensive to be scuffed around in red North Carolina dirt all day. I can remember a time when my flip-flops were from Walmart and my clothes came from Goodwill. That was before Dad developed the antibody therapy that made him one of the top medical researchers in the country. Shortly after that, he scored a new job, one we were sure he’d never get. But somehow, against all odds, they hired him, and that decision changed our lives. Now my parents live on Glassy Mountain in a sprawling, luxurious development packed with amenities; but even after eight years, none of us are used to being wealthy. I still have this sort of desperate feeling, like I have to enjoy it as much as I can, because it could all melt away as easily as it came.
“Earth to Daisy.” Nick snaps long fingers in front of my face. He has painted his nails electric blue with dizzying swirls of purple. “Breakfast?”
“I guess.”
My parents are long gone to their respective jobs, so the enormous kitchen is empty. I snatch a pastry from under the bell jar on the island and hand one to Nick. “I shouldn’t,” he says, but he takes it anyway and pulls me out the front door so fast I barely have time to grab my bag and sunglasses.
When we burst outside, the sun doesn’t seem as offensively bright as it did in my room. There’s a humid promise of sultry heat in the air, but it’s not horribly oppressive yet.
“Gotta stop for gas,” Nick says, vaulting over the door of his Fiat Spider and settling into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll grab coffee for both of us.”
“From the gas station?” He makes a face. “You drink that trash?”
“They have cold Starbucks in the coolers.”
“Fiiiine.” He draws out the word to about four syllables as the car glides out of our driveway.
“Watch the speed limit until we get through the gate—they’re really strict in this neighborhood,” I warn him. “So what’s Jordan’s stunt for the day?”
Nick glances at me through the cinnamon curls blowing across his face. “She doesn’t want you to know until you get there.”
“Something super dangerous then.”
“You know Jordan.” He shrugs. “She didn’t get her followers by sitting around.”
