Slate | ✓

EIGHT | WILL

"I was smoking," I respond, straightening up against the side of the house.

"You aren't drinking?"

This confuses me. We were together the entire walk over here, did she not notice then? "No."

"Why not?"

I'm scared of losing control. "Tonight's just not the night," I shrug.

I can see that the answer isn't good enough for her, and it falls dangerously close to the realm of things we don't talk about. More similar to Victor than she'd ever admit, there's an unspoken set of values that accompany Athena, and learning her language is the only chance anyone has at coexistence.

My sister, however, is a mean drunk. "You know, Will," she slurs, her eyes bright and burning, "I've been through all the same shit as you, from minute-fucking-one. I just want you to be happy, man, everybody wants you to be happy." There's an insidious earnestness to her voice. "So why can't you just be happy?"

It's like being doused in cold water, and the ancient guilt creeps back up, borne from having too much to say and no way to say it.

When the side door to the house flies open, the mesh screen crashing back against the frame, I'm actually relieved to see Ella flying down the stairs. There's a slight flush fanning across her cheekbones, and the way she's done her makeup emphasizes the warmth of her eyes, I think about the specks of yellow that offset the brown, only visible in the light, and now hidden.

Ella clearly doesn't expect to see me, as she stops mid-step, a disjointed, jerking motion that I watch her try to recover from. "Oh," she says, "I came to check on—" her gaze falls on Athena, whose entire weight is supported by the house, then down to the vomit-stained flowers. "Is she okay?" Ella asks me, before her eyes dart back over to Athena. "Are you okay?"

"I'm living my best life," Athena flashes a blinding grin, her eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded. "Ella," she burps, "fuck, how did you get your eyeshadow to look like that? Did you watch a video—?"

"This party is such a fucking shitshow, Jesus Christ," Ella huffs, flexing out her hand as if squeezing a stress ball.

I try to hide my smile at the look on her face. "That bad?"

She considers me for a moment, face impassive except for the telltale tick of her jaw. "Want to hear what your sister was just doing?"

"No," I shake my head, "not really."

"So I made out with Dante in the bathroom," Athena drawls. "Who cares? Their relationship sucks anyways."

Ella doesn't bother to conceal her grin at my own pained expression.

"I did them a favour," Athena continues, oblivious in her own drunken bubble. "I don't get girls who blame anything other than their boyfriend for his shitty behaviour."

"So, Patti's birthday—is it, like today today, or is she just celebrating it today?" I ask.

"No," Ella's smile grows wider. "It's—it's today."

"Shit—" I can't help the laughter that bubbles to my lips.

"Yeah," Ella snorts, the lines around her eyes crinkling. "That bad. I think she's still crying, actually."

"Oh God," I groan. "We're terrible."

Athena slings an arm over my shoulder. "Don't regret anything in this life, William," she informs me, every syllable of my name rolling off her tongue alongside the booze wafting on her breath. "Let them come for me, see if I fucking care." I roll my eyes at Athena's imaginary martyrdom.