14. Elody

14ELODY

I know I asked for drama, but this is, like, so on the nose, it’s kind of boring.

“Okay, babes.” I stand up from the chair, stretching. “This has been super fun, but I didn’t eat breakfast, and I’m starving.”

“Yeah, great plan,” Aaron whines as I walk to the kitchen. “We’ll just sit and wait for the grown-ups to come pick us up.”

“Are we not even going to talk about what just happened?” Graham asks. “They’re watching us. They know Cole’s dead, and they’re still trying to blackmail us!”

“We don’t know that for sure. There has to be some other explanation for this,” Kira says, like she didn’t just give the most surprising comeback speech ever. Apparently, she’s all business all the time.

“The messages could be on a timer,” Max says.

“But they know we voted for McKayleigh,” Corinne argues. “That couldn’t have been prescheduled.”

“And even if it was,” Graham says, even more frantic, “are we just cool with the whole ‘canceled’ thing? Like, is this what IRL was always supposed to be?”

Corinne sighs. “It’s definitely one take on the ‘real life’ theme.”

It sounds like she’s trying for sarcastic, but she mostly looks freaked out.

“They’re going to ruin all of our lives,” Graham continues. “Don’t you guys see that?”

“Oh my god, can you just chill out?” I ask, but it comes out too panicked. I relax my face, fixing my hair. “Like, it’s not helping.”

“Then what should we do, Elody?” Zane demands.

I fight a smile. It’s, like, totally the wrong reaction for me to be having right now, but there’s something weirdly satisfying about watching an overconfident asshole like Zane lose his cool.

He wipes his face, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I just— Tilly or whoever else is behind this might have just ruined McKayleigh’s career. How are we not on the same page about this?”

“I don’t know, babe.” I shrug, walking to the kitchen. “Maybe because we don’t all have, like, super dark secrets we don’t want getting out.”

It’s a lie, but the thing is, I need to stop feeding into all this anxious energy or I’ll start to lose my shit.

“We should look for the phone again,” Kira says. “There’s got to be somewhere we haven’t checked.”

I open the fridge and reach for the leftovers from last night.

“Do whatever you want.” I take out the taco meat and a bag of kale and close the door with my hip. “But I’m not gonna be good at finding anything until I eat something.”

Max blows out a breath.

“Elody’s right,” he says, because duh. Of course I am. “Our best bet is to stay calm and hope production gets here soon.”

“They will,” Kira decides. “They have to know something’s wrong by now.”

“Perfect.” I set the tray of leftovers on the table with a loud smack. “Now, can we chill with all of the creepy talk, and eat?”

As usual, I’m a trendsetter. Everyone starts to follow me to the kitchen. Corinne makes a cup of coffee and heads upstairs, and Kira’s right behind her with a protein bar. Logan sulks up to her room, too, but everyone else stays. Aaron’s the only one who doesn’t come to the kitchen. He just wanders around the living room, looking at the bookshelves and stuff like a weirdo.

Zane grabs his leftovers out of the fridge, and Graham comes up next to him, pulling his vape out of his pocket. Which, ew? I thought we were over vaping as a generation, like, a year ago.

“Should we go talk to her?” Graham asks, looking out the window.

“Nah, she needs to chill out first,” Zane says.

Max sits down at the table and reaches for his camera bag. Zane shoots him a look, and Max stops, unwrapping his Pop-Tart instead.

Graham messes with his vape, like he’s having withdrawals or something.

“I’m gonna go sit by the pool and try not to lose my mind,” he tells Zane. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll heat this up and meet you out there in a sec.”

Graham leaves, which means that besides Zane microwaving his weird tofu and Aaron sulking around the living room, me and Max are, like, basically alone.

“So,” I say, spooning kale into a bowl. “Fun first day, right?”

“Yeah.” Max laughs a little, but it’s the annoying, polite kind, where it seems like he doesn’t want to talk to me. He breaks off a piece of Pop-Tart, but then just kind of stares at it. “I guess I’m not that hungry.”

I put some taco meat on my salad, because Max may be hot and all, but I’m not about to let him make me feel weird about eating. I sit at the counter next to him and take a bite.

“Getting anything good, at least?”

Max blinks at me, all confused behind those nerdy glasses. “What?”

“For your little documentary.” I flick his camera. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but today has been, like, nonstop drama?”

Max glances at Zane. “Thought I’d give it a rest for now.”

Zane gives him an annoyed look but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he finally takes his food out to go meet Graham, and we’re really alone. Finally. I get closer, bumping my knee against his.

“That was an interesting ‘biggest lie’ you told us about, with that girl you knew. She sounds thirsty as hell.”

I lean in so he gets a good view of my biggest lie, but Max is staring out the window, distracted, and ugh. How hard is he going to make me work for this? I sit back in my chair, away from him, like I’m getting bored.

“What’s your deal? You’re being all weird.”

He frowns. “Cole’s dead and someone’s trying to cancel all of us. I feel like that’s a pretty solid reason to be ‘weird’?”

I want to roll my eyes at how superior he’s being. Like, obviously I know what’s going on. I have eyes and ears and a brain, believe it or not. I just have a different way of dealing with stress—which honestly, he should maybe try out, because flirting is a hell of a lot more fun than sitting around and thinking yourself to death.

Instead, I say, “Okay, solid point. But I don’t know. Seems like there’s something else going on with you.”

Max looks out the window again, and then back at me. He lowers his voice. “Something’s up with the Bounce House.”

I follow where his gaze just went, out to the pool. Zane and Graham are sitting on the lounge chairs, having some sort of tense conversation. I wonder what they’re talking about, and then I remember that I’m going for hot and uninterested, so I shouldn’t care.

“I mean, duh,” I tell Max. “Like, it’s pretty obvious they all hate each other?”

“Yeah, but…” He picks at his Pop-Tart wrapper. “I feel like there’s something else there. Something deeper.”

Deepermakes me think of a lot of things I want Max Overby to do to me, but I play along because I’m a good sport.

I smirk. “Like something you could make your documentary about?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Oh my god, he’s actually committed to this whole documentary thing, isn’t he? Like, what do I need to do, take off all my clothes at the kitchen counter?

Either that or make him jealous.

“Aaron Tyler Banks,” I call over to the living room. Not my best option, but I’ll take what I can get. “Want to stop creeping and hang with us, babe?”

Aaron looks over his shoulder, like he’s not sure if I’m talking to him. “Uh, okay?”

Max shifts, and it’s so obvious these two have some kind of drama going on, which is perfect. I smile as Aaron sits down.

“So, what are your thoughts on all this Bounce House drama?”

He scratches his freckly nose. “McKayleigh got what was coming to her, I guess.”

“Damn.” I laugh. “But you’re not wrong. I would say I can’t believe she stole all those designs, but, like, I kind of can.”

A weird, almost evil look flashes on Aaron’s face. “I can’t wait to see what’s in Max’s folder.”

Max stands up, his chair scraping the floor. He leaves his Pop-Tart on the counter and walks away without a word.

“Aw, come on, babe,” I call after him. “Aaron’s just messing with you. I bet he’ll apologize. Right?”

Aaron breaks off a piece of Max’s Pop-Tart and shoves it in his mouth. “No.”

Max sulks upstairs.

Ugh. Literally, what is wrong with both of them?

“It’s not worth it,” Aaron says the second he’s gone, mouth full. “Max is into Kira.”

“Shut up.” I take an angry bite of my salad. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“How?”

“I’m good at noticing things. It tends to happen when people stop caring you exist.” He shrugs, wiping crumbs off his mouth. “Also, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”

I think back to last night, when I looked through the window and saw Max and Kira talking on the couch. Max acted like a literal piece of cardboard when I was pulling my best moves on him, but then all of a sudden he was running off after Kira. Oh god, is Aaron right?

I slump back in my chair, trying not to let him see how much that thought makes me want to puke. “I don’t get it. Like, she’s pretty, or whatever, but she’s so boring. Even when she was ripping McKayleigh apart, she was like … nice about it.”

“Max is an asshole, anyway. And…” He pauses. “Look, you don’t need me to tell you, obviously, but you’re really pretty. You could get anyone you want. Or whatever.”

He goes all red, and there it is again, that sweet little legless puppy thing. I stand up and put my hand on Aaron’s cheek. I can feel his pulse in my hand.

“That’s sweet, babe.” I lean closer. “But don’t get any ideas. I still think you’re, like, physically repulsive.”

“Yeah.” Aaron shoves another Pop-Tart piece into his mouth. “And you’ve got the personality to match.”

I give his cheek a little pat. Okay, maybe it’s more of, like, a light slap. “Have fun with your Pop-Tart.”

I walk off toward the stairs, but Aaron calls after me.

“Word of advice? You might have a better shot with Max if you didn’t try so hard.”

Something rushes up inside of me, like a pot boiling over, but I clamp the lid back on, forcing it all down. I turn around and give Aaron my best I-don’t-care face.

“You know what? It’s a good thing acting didn’t work out. You’re, like, destined to be a therapist.”

I turn and go up the stairs, keeping up the act until I get to the bathroom. Then I close the door behind me, and it all bubbles out.

Who the hell does Aaron Tyler Banks think he is, anyway? Telling me that I try too hard when he’s the one making up fake stories on his sad YouTube channel to try to make people care about him again. I don’t try hard. That’s my whole thing. I went from nothing to everything overnight, and people hate me because I make it look so easy.

Sorry, El.Mom’s cigarette rasp floats into my head. Her barely hidden smile. Some things you just can’t fix.

The memory of it makes my skin sting, right where my birthmark is, the splotchy red shape like dried blood on the side of my left thigh. It’s my least favorite part of my body, even worse than my boob job scars or the spidery stretch marks on my hips that showed up during puberty and faded after lots of trips to the dermatologist. The birthmark, though—the derm couldn’t fix that. Mom took me to get it lasered off once, but like pretty much everything else she ever did as a parent, it didn’t work. Just stung like hell.

I grip the countertop, stare at my reflection, and force it all down: Mom, her eight thousand crappy boyfriends and their wandering eyes. Her precious little guns that made me wonder what it would be like to take one and point it right at those boyfriends’ gross, ogling faces. Bang. I let the thought fade like the sound of a shot.

When I’m sure I won’t cry, I dab under my eyes with my fingers, and then use the tip of my nail to smooth out the lipstick at the corner of my mouth.

I take a breath and smile until I believe it.