Free Strum Your Heart Out by Crystal Kaswell Page A

choose to live with Tom? I don't think I've ever seen you doing anything but fighting." She slaps her hand on the table. "And don't say it's because you're brothers, because I had a sister, and I know how that relationship actually goes."
    Pete sits back in his chair. "He's a better friend than he seems."
    Tom beams, proud of the compliment. He shifts back into mayhem mode. "The game is only fun if people pick dare."
    "The game is only fun if you're fourteen," Drew says.
    Tom holds his gaze. "Okay, Drew, I have a dare for you. Kiss Kara."
    Is this Tom's idea of helping? If the angry look in Drew's eyes is any indication, it's only making things worse.
    I guess subtlety and drumming don't get along too well.
    "You can't just dare someone to do something," Drew says. "Those aren't the rules."
    "Okay, fine. Truth or dare," Tom says.
    "It's not your turn," Drew says.
    Pete shrugs. "He can have my turn."
    Drew shakes his head. "Truth."
    "Pussy." Tom smirks.
    "Fuck you," Drew says.
    Tom's eyes narrow. "Okay, I have a question. Why didn't you pick dare?"
    Drew's gaze fixes on the table. It's almost like he's nervous. He mutters under his breath, pours a shot, and slams it. "You're so fucking immature."
    Gee, great. I'm that appealing.
    Attention is divided. Half on me. Half on Drew. I maintain my happy face. No way I'm going to allow all the pity in the room to land on me.
    Drew presses his palm against the table. "Tom. Truth or dare."
    "Truth."
    "Why are you such a miserable piece of shit?" Drew asks.
    "I was born that way." Tom turns to me. "Kara. Your turn."
    No sense fanning the flames here. If I act like this is cool, everyone will calm down. This will all be okay. "Truth."
    Tom lowers his voice. "Were you hoping Drew would pick dare?"
    My lips feel heavy. No way to pry them apart. I push myself out of my chair. "Drew should do whatever makes him happy."
    Drew is staring at me, this strange mix of anger and concern.
    "You know, I just remembered. I have a paper due Monday and I haven't even started. I should get to that." I take another step toward the stairs. "It was great to see you guys. Have fun."
    Drew's eyes find mine. Something passes between us, but I haven't got a fucking clue what it is, why we're both dodging these questions.
    I turn and rush up the stairs with as much calm as I can muster.
    The tension in my neck relaxes once I'm alone in my bedroom. Hurt bubbles up in my chest, the same hurt I felt when I was listening to Drew play. I push it away, lock myself in the bathroom, and run the shower.
    ***
    I turn the water as hot and heavy as it will go. It pounds the porcelain with a loud tap tap tap . The tiny white room fills with steam. It turns everything into this bright blurry haze.
    The band is still downstairs. No signs anyone is on their way out. I throw my head back and rinse my hair in the water. I didn't exactly play that cool, but I didn't throw a fit.
    I shampoo, condition, and soap. My fingers trail over the scars on my inner thighs. They're still raised well above my skin, thick and red and ugly. But no one can see them.
    No one will ever see them again.
    "Kara."
    It's Drew. Outside my bedroom door. He must be yelling pretty loud to make it all the way to me.
    I pretend like I can't hear.
    "Kara." The bedroom door opens. He's inside my bedroom now. His footsteps move toward the shower. He knocks lightly. "How is the paper going in there?"
    "Great," I yell over the shower.
    "You want to come downstairs? I made Tom promise to shut the fuck up."
    "No thank you." I turn the water off. "I really do have to finish my homework."
    "Do it after everyone leaves." He taps the door lightly. "Things are falling apart without you. Pete is sulking on the couch. Meg and Miles are necking on the table."
    I pull my towel—one of my few belongings—from the rack and pat myself dry. I'm naked and Drew is on the other side of the door.
    "Give me a minute," I say.
    He taps the door with his fingers. Okay. He's not leaving.