Page 41 of The Breakup Artists

August’s mom spoke with an officer, whose face was drawn with the burden of what he was saying. I followed August into the commotion, my heart pounding in my ears, only catching pieces of the policeman’s words: “Race... kids... unfortunate accident.”

But my mind couldn’t make sense of it because there, wrapped around a tree, was Kyle’s brand-new car, the one he took us for a ride in not two days before, bragging about how fast it was... had been Kyle sat in the back of an ambulance, his eyes wide with shock and blood on his shirt. But there was no Des. Des wasn’t there.

Then I saw what Kyle was staring at. A body bag on a stretcher. And I knew; I instantly knew, the same way you know when you drop a glass, even before it hits the ground, that it’ll never be reparable. I looked around, frantic for someone to tell me it wasn’t true. But August’s mom was folded over herself, wailing. And August was frozen, standing at the edge of the caution tape, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were white.

“It might be good to say those things,” I reply even more gently.

He shakes his head as he paces. “Honestly, what good would it do at this point to prove to her that we all missed something about Kyle? Why subject her to the same shit guilt I live with?”

My breath catches and my heart beats faster. “August, it’s not your—”

He turns so quickly that I flinch. “Do not say ‘fault,’ Tiny. Don’t even think it,” he says with finality, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. For months after Des died, people kept telling him that it was a senseless tragedy, that it wasn’t anyone’s fault. That was when he stopped talking to people in general, even me.

I glance briefly at my hands. “Well, hey, look, I’m sure there’s another job out there. All we need to do is find it.”

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyebrows. “We’ve been through three towns applying, including the places she’s been fired from before. I even stopped at the Gibbonses and the Hershwicks to ask about their home repairs, and they both told me flat out that they felt more comfortable hiring a contractor. There is no other job.” He tosses his phone onto the end of his bed for emphasis. “I seriously hate money, like,a lot.”

I’d ask if August’s dad could help. But I did that when he found out Berkeley denied him financial aid because of his father’s salary. I told August I was sure he’d want to contribute, to which August spent the next ten minutes cursing about how his dad’s a prick who’s too preoccupied with his second family to care. “Maybe I could—” I start, but he cuts me off.

His eyes darken and he looks away. “I know you’re trying to help, but this isn’t your problem. It’s mine,” he says, and I’m instantly aware that The Wall is up and the conversation is over.

23

august

Colorful lights illuminate the old horse field; music surrounds us with a steady beat, and people happy-scream as their stomachs drop suddenly on the roller coaster. An introvert’s worst nightmare.

Tiny stuffs her face with cotton candy. “Ilovecarnivals. And carnival food. And games. And—”

“Overpriced neon chaos?” I offer.

She shoves a giant bite of cotton candy into her mouth. “Cynic.”

“Optimist.”

“There.” She points a sticky finger toward a stall that readsBalloon Pop, where Ella and Leah throw darts. Derek and the Amber look-alike shoot hoops at the next booth over.

Justin announces our arrival with, “Everyone’s favorite cousins!” as we approach, giving Tiny a high five and me a fist bump. Amber’s eyes brighten when she sees me.

Ella and Leah, now finished with their game, join our circle.

“You’re just in time,” Amber says.

She slips a flask from her purse and takes a swig, offering it to me.

I put my hands up. “Driving.”

Amber rolls her eyes. “Lame.”

She passes it to Tiny, who lifts the canister to her lips. Her performance is convincing, even though I know she’s faking that sip—we can’t do our job tipsy.

“I think I peeled off some of my throat with that stuff,” Tiny says and passes it to Justin.

“Bourbon,” Amber replies with a sly grin. “My dad buys it by the case. Never notices when I swipe some.”

I know she meant it as a positive, but I frown. My mother wouldn’t notice if I took alcohol, either, but I don’t consider that a good thing. Amber, Leah, and Tiny start up a conversation, and my attention drifts to Justin and Ella.

“Yesss!” Justin says, after a swig. “Babe?” He offers the flask.