Page 36 of Dirty Roulette
I slam the locker shut and swivel the bag around my shoulder. I told her the truth slash half-truth. I left out the part with the bottle, my naked ass grinding on Ryder Friday night and getting off on him. And kissing him, and kissing him some more, and liking the way my legs burn with the fire. It should be easy to tell her everything, but I’m drowning in cement.
“So that’s it?” Charlie follows my heavy footsteps to the neon green exit sign. “Stop walking away from me!” She dashes forward, with her pretty curls bouncing as she stands in front of me. When I slide to the right, she follows. When I step to the left, she mirrors my movements. “Clearly, you’re only telling me part of the truth. You really want to throw away fifteen years of friendship? I tell you every goddamn thing about me. You’re my only true friend, and you’ve never lied to me.”
“Because you wouldn’t understand what happened. I told you what you needed to know, which was true. He defended me because Brody sent those photos. What else do you want from me?” I’m at the point of ripping every hair follicle out of my skull.
“What the hell?”
I shake a head. “I’m sorry. He got into a fight with him today. I’m really sorry. He shouldn’t get hurt because of me.”
Our argument dies. Neither of us can make eye contact. Charlie carves a hand through her hair, holding it back as she stares into the distance, shaking her head and biting her bottom lip. She releases her grip and her eyes simmer. “That was our one rule when we turned thirteen. To never lie to each other.” She circles around me, using two hands to push open the doors to the locker room, and disappearing.
I leave, taking the fifteen-minute walk off campus and to the dorms. As I stroll down the sidewalk, I’m glued to my phone. There are severalvideos of me hitting and screaming at Brody. So far it has over five thousand views, and each time I swipe out of the video, a new one pops up. I fear clicking on the comments or the messaging popping up in the right corner. I log off and shove the phone into my pocket.
The magical word people love to call me crawls into my bloodstream.Trash.I feel it burrowing deep inside me the second Charlie called me out as a liar. I have this dreadful pit in my stomach that her life would be a million times better if I dropped out and became an old lady with two dozen cats to keep me company.
I cross the main street and stumble onto loose gravel. Weedy fringes and dandelions grow along the sidewalk up to the dorms. I make my way to the third floor and climb the steps into the musty room with my unpacked boxes. It’s quiet and still, with dust floating in the light seeping through the blinds. I plop onto an unmade bed with the embarrassing princess sheets. I pulled out my phone after seeing half a dozen messages from Charlie.
Charlie:Brody called. Everything is chill. He’s not gonna post our nudes.
Charlie:Hello?
Charlie:I don’t want a different dorm mate. Please don’t think you need to move out. I wish you didn’t hide things from me. We are supposed to be best friends. I legit tell you freaking everything, and I don’t get why you can’t tell me what happened.
Charlie:Hello?
Charlie:Ryder’s at the house. Do you want to come over?
Charlie:Answer me!
I swipe out of her messages. She’ll never comprehend how transparent my feelings are for her brother right this second. There won’t be a morning when I wake up without regretting my entire being for playing Dirty Roulette.
Charlie, at this point, will dump me as a friend. It utterly guts me. She’s the one who combed my hair and showed me how to put eyeliner on. Then she’d share her brand-name clothes. When I begged Mum to take me shopping at the mall, she’d drag me into Goodwill reeking of Windex instead.
I’d search for band tee shirts and old CDs. I found a boom box one day and ever since, I blasted music in my room. The clothes I got from Goodwill didn’t last long. Most shirts fit baggy on me. Charlie handed over old skinny jeans and in return, I delivered chill music.
I decided to distract myself by unpacking. The first thing I pull out of the boxes is my boom box and a stack of vintage CDs so I can play some music. I find posters littered with folded tape. At this point, it might be the one thing I can do to calm my nerves.
Chapter fourteen
Ryder
“Wake up, heifer!” Charlie slings the bedroom door open and invites herself in. I slap at the alarm clock on my nightstand, confused.What time is it?I wrestle the sheets with my feet and leap out of bed in a sheer panic. I’m late for the gym, class, or for a second practice randomly put into my schedule.
“Why are you here?”
“I dunno, your door wasn’t locked. Thought I’d say hi.”
“What time is it?” I groan and press two fingers into my eye sockets before the blurry red numbers on the clock materialize. It’s nine in the evening, and I’m groggier than a sloth. I seriously slept for three hours, but I did drink four glasses of Hennessy. “What do you want?” I ask.
“Payton won’t answer my texts,” Charlie complains, tilting her head to one side with the biggest pout. “And she was wearing your ugly-ass basketball shorts. You got in a fight with Brody, so talk!”
I run a hand over my face. “Why don’t you go check the dorm and gotalk to her?”
“I tried. My best friend is lying to me, and now I’m betting my brother wants to sleep with her.”
The mere sound of her voice impales me in the stomach right where the bruises are forming. My lip throbs and I run my front teeth over a scab by mistake, scraping it off. I press two fingers against it and I’m bleeding again. Even my right hand aches. At this rate, Charlie isn’t going to get off my ass unless I talk. I’m going to need an on-call nurse to inject me with some morphine for the headache she’s gonna give me.
“I don’t want to sleep with her,” I lie. I would sleep with her in a heartbeat if she said yes. But there’s no way I’m having this conversation with my sister. The dick and his cravings don’t need to liquefy her ears.
