*tw: attempted SA*

ALL THREE STORIES of the Callahan house shook from Jo's guitar blowing out Dustin's gigantic speakers. She outshined the rest of the band, but tonight she was on another level. She wanted to prove who the drunken crowd of students and ex-bandmates would be losing. Her confidence was a quality I always admired, and the way she refused to dim her light for anyone. No matter who got in her way, she simply pushed through.

Pushing my way into the kitchen wasn't so simple. A lot of sweaty, sloppy drunk people stumbled into me, and didn't spare more than a hazy glance in my direction. A part of me wanted them to. I wanted somebody to notice me. Claire. The girl crying for help, acceptance, a place to belong.

"Ayo!" The guy that had looked right through me only hours before at Jo's bus stop knew I existed now. His short, fluffy blond hair was attractively disheveled and hung in his eyes. "You must be new in town, because I'd definitely remember a face like yours."

"I've lived here since I was twelve, Trevor. We had the same P.E. class in sixth grade," I told him, tapping the rim of my cup against his. I almost laughed at the confusion on his face. "Valiant effort, though. Have a good rest of your night."

I gulped in the cool night air once I broke out of the house and into its backyard. Between the head-banging music and the imposter syndrome, I couldn't be anywhere near the party. I'd never belong, even if I tried. Not in South Carolina. Not in my family. And definitely not at the party. I realized what I needed was a damn acceptance letter more than I needed Stanford.

I took off my dirty Converses and stockings before placing my feet in the pool. The nightlights inside made it look like it was glowing, calling to me like the magic oasis Sir Ashwell took Lady Heathwood to. It was the only place where class-systems didn't matter. At that oasis, only their love did.

"Heeeeeeey!" I didn't need to see Dustin to know it was him. The Axe body spray was enough. He was one of the richest guys at school, and he wore Axe. "Whatcha doing out here? All aloooone..."

"I needed some air," I said. I didn't like Dustin sober, but drunk was another level of ick. And now, all I saw was Stanford's approval stamped on his forehead.

"Mind if I join you?" He sat down anyway and removed his Timberlands, falling against my shoulder as one boot got stuck. He laughed. A chill ran down my spine. 

I ground my teeth as I tried to push him away, but he didn't budge. "Some personal space would be nice," I said.

"Oh, c'mon, Claire-Bear! Don't be such a prude. We're friends!" 

I stiffened against him, my heart hammering my chest, that stupid nickname pulling my thoughts back to my mother's thin-set mouth and glare. "No, we're not."

"You're so different from Jo," he went on as he curled a strand of my hair around his finger. "You know, Claire-Bear, I always liked you. You're so... innocent. Like an angel, or something."

Or something. How eloquent. It was so obvious Jo wrote all the band's songs when he talked like that. "Please stop calling me that," I said, but my voice was small. Breathy. It sounded too weak to be taken seriously.

Dustin chuckled, hiccuping against my throat. I cringed. "I bet you got a wild side to you, Claire-Bear. We could totally explore that when we're at Stanford."

My eyes burned with tears and my head pounded with stress and humiliation. I pushed him again, but he just didn't budge. "Dustin, stop!" I snapped. Then, to my horror, I felt his mouth against my neck. I startled back, but he held my arm. "Stop! You're Jo's ex!"

"And what if I wasn't?"

One stupid, treacherous tear slipped out. "I still wouldn't want to be anywhere near you."

The drunken niceness in his eyes turned dark. I tried to get away, but he grabbed both my wrists, his nails hard against my skin. Warmth pressed against my knee. His hand. His free hand rested there. Panic flooded my body, but I was helpless. Frozen. "Dustin, please –"

"Claire!" Jo shouted. My eyes snapped open just in time to see Jo whack Dustin with a pool net, sending him into the pool with a giant splash. A bunch of water sloshed up over me. 

"I knew you were a jerk, but I thought you knew boundaries!" Jo seethed, wielding that ridiculous pool net like a sword. Like she was going to take another swing at him. 

Dustin gasped and flailed in the water, immediately sober. "Jo!"

Jo hurled the pool net at him like a javelin. Lucky for him, it missed its mark by a couple inches. Then she yanked me up to my feet and grabbed my shoes. The music came to an abrupt halt as people gathered to see the drama, but they parted when Jo stomped through them. Whispers circulated, spreading like a wildfire. Not only was I humiliated by Dustin, but this fiasco would be talked about forever, I was sure, like Honest Claire but worse.

When we reached Ms. Anderson's car, Jo inspected me from head-to-toe. She held my arms tight. "Are you okay?" she demanded.

My throat was too thick with tears to speak. I nodded. 

She finally let me go, and ran her hands through her blonde hair, pulling it into a bun. "I'm so heated! I could just – I'm going to go back in there and giving him a black eye –"

"Jo –"

"You're right, that's too easy. I'm going to kick him so hard he'll never be able –"

"Jo!" My voice didn't sound like my own. It was still too high. Too panicked. I wound my arms around her as tight as I could. "Can we go? Please? I don't want to be here anymore."

She trembled against me, her rage threatening to burst out of her. If we stayed her any longer, she'd explode. She'd march right up to Dustin and... I couldn't even imagine it. "Please."

"Fine," she sighed, pulling away. Her eyes shone like glass, probably from the moonlight. "Mark my words, Claire. I'm going to ruin him."

And ruin him she did.

We sat in the vacant McDonalds parking lot munching on French fries, chicken nuggets, and milkshakes. It was hard to eat, every part of me was still shaking, but I tried to read Swords and Roses to ground myself. I'd packed it in the back of the car just in case the party was too much for me. I didn't expect it to be this much, though.

Jo was spearheading a campaign for the downfall of Dustin Callahan. Typing wickedly fast with one hand while she held her milkshake in the other, she exposed him on all her socials. She had enough followers from her music clips on Instagram and TikTok to make his life a nightmare.

"What's your plan?" I asked her.

"Kick him out of Stanford. Force him to live the rest of his life alone. The usual."

I just wanted to forget tonight even happened. 

"He won't bother you at Stanford, Claire," Jo suddenly said, her tone so earnest and confident, I almost forgot I'd even gotten a rejection letter from them. I needed to tell her.

But when I opened my mouth, no sound came out. And Jo was back on her phone. It would be easier to pretend nothing was wrong, at least for right now. I wanted to pretend I wasn't here.  As I flipped through the pages of my book, the words didn't pull me in. They seemed blurry, almost. I couldn't focus.

Jo must've been hot with anger and turned the AC on at some point. The breeze from the vents was cold, even more distracting, but I pushed it aside to focus on Lady Heathwood heading to the oasis. It was my all-time favorite scene, and after tonight, I deserved to lose myself in it.

But it kept getting worse. The air blowing out of the vents escalated, making my pages flip. I sighed. "Can you please turn the AC off?"

"It's not on," Jo mumbled. I looked at her, ready to snap, but she was right. There wasn't a lick of cool air drifting through the car. I reached for the vent: nothing.

Then the pages of my book shuttered, turning, fanning out as if a huge gust of wind had blown against it. It fell out of my lap. As soon as it hit the floorboard, a shimmery... mist oozed out from the center of the book and it smelled like... pine. Then the sound of birds... chirping... filled the air.

It was coming from the book.

"Jo?" I wheezed.

"What?" Jo asked. "Are you watching another animal rescue video?"

Not even close. It was something far too bizarre and impossible. I couldn't keep my eyes off the mist as it crept along the floorboards of Jo's mom's car, leaving a black void in its wake. The mist covered my shoes, slithered over the console, and dipped into Jo's side. She startled, her brows scrunching close as she looked at it. "Claire?"

Then my stomach dropped in an uncomfortable, bottomed out feeling. Jo gasped. We looked at each other, eyes wide and terrified, but there was no time to say anything.

Suddenly, we were falling.