Free The Prologue by Kassandra Kush Page B

and truly gone.
    Slowly, I lower my hand from my cheek and restore the two stools to their proper places, using the utmost care to align them perfectly with the remaining two stools. A part of me feels inexplicably relieved, wondering if Tony just tried to leave me . I know it won’t be permanent, that in his dysfunctional way he actually does love me and that he’ll come back, but I feel a tiny sense of relief, excitement at the respite from dealing with him.
    And then, deep down, there’s the traitorous part of me that is crying at having upset him, that is sick with dread that he might actually leave me. Worry about my identity without him, the part that loves Tony because he’s sick and this isn’t really him. The part that wants to call him right now and beg for his forgiveness.
    The two parts of me, always fighting each other.
     
     
    Jenny is the first of the girls to arrive, and even though it’s only six in the evening, I’m already dressed in my pajamas to avoid the necessity of changing in front of them. The bruise on my ribs is a disgusting thing now, turning yellow and green, but it’s gone from hurting all the time to being just a dull ache. I can’t wait for it to completely heal and fade so I can forget about it, all about that day, and about Zeke seeing it too.
    Chantal and Grace are right behind Jenny, and Tiffany is the last to arrive, strutting inside and carelessly dumping her bag on the entryway floor. We gather in the kitchen around the pizza I ordered, though Jenny and I are pretty much the only ones who eat it. The other three girls pick at the salad that I also put out, knowing they wouldn’t want the greasy pizza. I meet Jenny’s eyes and we grin at each other, having the same thought: more for the two of us.
    Tiffany’s voice finally cuts above the high pitched girl chatter, in a slow, rich girl drawl. “All right, enough of the chitchat. Please tell me you’re not going to be a spoilsport and not let us drink, Evie.”
    I look over at Jenny, and she gives me a pouty face, and I grin and turn to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine, and some rum and pineapple juice, because I know its Jenny’s favorite. The other girls are snobs when it comes to drinking. Normally, I really don’t allow them because I don’t want the responsibility, but today I’m thinking the blessed release of being drunk sounds like a wonderful thing.
    All the girls cheer, and Chantal pounds the granite countertop in approval. I even find a bottle of Fireball whiskey when I’m looking for a corkscrew, and bring that to the kitchen with shot glasses.
    “Keys,” I demand, holding out my hand.
    “Like we would,” Grace says, rolling her eyes, but they all obediently pass over their car keys and I put them on top of the fridge. “I plan on being drunk enough to pass out, believe me.”
    “Still, there was that one time, at the party at Josh’s,” I say, and glare at Tiffany. The only reason she still has her license is because her dad donated a substantial amount of money to keep her name clear of a DUI.
    Tiffany waves a careless hand. “Lesson learned. Besides, no one got hurt. Much.”
    She’d sent someone to the hospital with a leg broken in three places, and like many of the rich and entitled, taken the chance to get a nose job herself. I shake my head, wondering why I even have these girls at my house, how we even became friends. But they are here, and tonight, I decide to just not care about anything but getting a buzz.
    Pop music is cranked up as the drinks are poured down, and after three shots of Fireball and two drinks, I’m wondering what the big deal was with Tiffany. She and I are sliding around in our socks in the kitchen to The Avett Brothers, giggling like maniacs. She and I are the only ones who recognize the song, and only when it is over do we collapse back onto our stools at the kitchen island, laughing helplessly.
    For the first time in nearly two weeks, my ribs aren’t hurting