The Merciless (The Merciless #1)(8)
I follow Grace down a block of vacant land and old construction sites. Two houses stand side by side where the road dead-ends. The first is unpainted, with heavy plastic tacked up where the windows and doors should be. When the wind blows, the plastic billows and collapses.
The second could be a completed house, except for the unfinished wood peeking through streaky white paint. Grace walks up the steps like she belongs there.
“Riley’s dad’s company owns this whole subdivision,” she explains. “The land, the construction equipment—everything. Apparently, these houses never sold after the economy tanked, so now they just sit here taking up space. Since they technically belong to Riley’s family, we borrow them from time to time.”
I grin as I follow her up the stairs. An abandoned house surrounded by empty land definitely has the potential to be not boring. “I hear other teenagers have to hang out in their bedrooms.”
“Poor teenagers,” Grace says. She hesitates on the porch. “Almost forgot. Don’t mention Josh unless Riley brings him up.”
I frown, suddenly lost. “Wait, who?”
Grace pauses, her hand pressed against the door. “Josh is Riley’s boyfriend. They got into this huge fight after lunch, and now Riley’s all pissed at him. That’s why we’re doing this. Ri needed a girls’ night.”
“Got it—no Josh,” I say.
Grace pushes the door open, and we make our way into the shadowy living room together. Afternoon light filters through the windows, but the cloudy blue plastic hanging over the glass keeps it dark. My eyes blur and I have to blink a few times before I can see. I hear fumbling and giggling in the darkness, then the sound of gas hissing to life, and the room fills with golden light. Alexis picks up a blue lantern and carries it over to us.
“Hey, Sof.” She slips an arm around my shoulders to pull me into a hug. The sleeves of her lacy white shift dress scratch against my neck. “Ooh, I’ve been dying to get my hands on your hair,” she says as she pulls away.
“Do not let her touch you!” Grace says. “Her idea of beauty is back-combing and Aqua Net.”
Alexis pouts. “You make me sound trashy. Not all of us can pull off the color-blind diva look you’ve got going on.”
“Hey, no need to take a swing at the ensemble,” Grace says. I see Alexis’s point. If anyone else tried on Grace’s blue sequined skirt, leather jacket, and leopard-print headband they’d look like they got dressed in the dark. But Grace looks fierce.
“Where’s Riley?” I ask, turning in place. Sleeping bags and pillows are scattered across the living room, and an upside-down milk crate acts as a side table, holding a Bible and an empty wine bottle. Cutouts of boys from magazines and postcards of old European churches cover the walls, along with hundreds of pictures of Riley, Alexis, and Grace.
I pull back the corner of a poster torn from a magazine and find a photograph of Riley and Alexis as little girls with long, skinny legs and goofy bows in their hair. They’re dressed identically.
“Lexie and I have been friends forever,” Riley says. I jump and whirl around—I didn’t hear her come up behind me. She’s barefoot and wearing a silky, kimono-style dress, her curls wild around her shoulders. It’s like she got dressed up just for us. “You like our wall?”
“It’s great,” I say, my eyes moving over the pictures. Robert Pattinson’s face peeks out from behind photo-booth snapshots, movie tickets, and stickers. I snicker. “What is this?”
“Grace had this huge crush on him for, like, a day,” Alexis explains, stretching out on the floor. “But now she only has eyes for Tom.”
“Shut up,” Grace says, launching a pillow at Alexis. Alexis catches it and wedges it beneath her head.
“Ooh, who’s Tom?” I ask, and Grace’s cheeks redden.
“He’s my boyfriend’s older brother,” Riley explains. “We all met when we were, like, seven.”
Grace clears her throat.
“Excuse me,” Riley says. “Everyone except for Grace. The rest of us have been hanging at the lake since we were kids. See?”
Riley leans past me to smooth out a creased photograph of her and Alexis with two other guys all lounging in front of a huge house. It’s a gray modern-looking house with steel-toned siding and gigantic floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything about the house looks sleek and intentional, from the Mercedes SUV parked out front to the perfectly trimmed leafy trees dotting the lawn and the long wooden dock artfully jutting out into a clear, still blue lake.
“This was at my family’s house at Lake Whitney,” she explains.
I lean in to look at the photograph. Alexis and Riley recline on the grass, tanned and gorgeous in their skimpy bikinis, their hair dried into beachy waves around their shoulders. Sitting between them is the cute boy from the cafeteria.
“Hey, I know him,” I say, pointing to Charlie. He’s wearing a damp white T-shirt over his swim trunks, and his messy hair is slicked away from his face, as if he just got out of the lake.
I turn back to Riley, but she isn’t looking at Charlie. Her eyes are locked on the preppy boy next to him with a cleft chin and hair that hangs shaggily around his neck and forehead. The infamous Josh, I’m guessing.
Riley purses her lips and presses her finger over Josh’s face, so I can only see his polo shirt.