On Monday, it’s the Fourth of July. Only the nation’s biggest celebration of the year, when fireworks are in high demand and the population seems to double within each city as thousands show up for the festivities. I don’t know how Independence Day is remembered in Los Angeles, but in Portland we normally head down to the Waterfront Blues Festival every year to watch the fireworks over the Willamette River. Before Dad leaves for work, he tells me that we’re going to watch the fireworks in Culver City. But I doubt it’ll beat Portland’s display.
“You can come and see the parade down on Main Street with us, if you’d like, Eden,” Ella suggests as I saunter into the kitchen in my pajamas. Chase and Jamie are already seated at the table; Chase’s eyes are glued to the TV on the counter as he shoves bacon into his mouth, while Jamie pours himself a bowl of cereal.
It’s always a little awkward being left with Ella without Dad here, because three weeks ago these people were strangers to me. And now I’m supposed to think of them as my second family, as people I’m supposed to feel comfortable around. I don’t, so the only thing I can do is pretend. “Okay,” I agree. “Is Tyler home yet?”
I haven’t seen him since the party on Saturday. As soon as Tiffani hauled his wasted ass into someone’s car to go home, I left too. There was no point forcing myself to stay when there was nothing worth staying for. So I came home, climbed into bed, and fell asleep before Dad and Ella even got home. I don’t know if they noticed the raging party across the street, but if they did they certainly didn’t mention it the next day. They only questioned me about Tyler’s whereabouts, so I had to tell them that he spent the night at Tiffani’s. Ella’s expression did contort slightly.
“Yes,” she answers now, while she clinks dishes together in the sink. “He came home late last night. I think he’s still sleeping.”
I didn’t hear him come in, and I’m surprised that he even did. He must have spent the entire day at Tiffani’s place trying to recover from the hangover that he most definitely suffered through. Maybe today I’ll finally get the chance to talk to him about what happened on Saturday. I can’t go on ignoring it. It’s not something that can be forgotten about.
“Is he coming to the parade with us?” I ask as casually as I possibly can, because I don’t want to appear too concerned about him. I can’t even begin to imagine how Dad and Ella would react if they knew. So I act nonchalant as I sit myself down next to Chase.
“I don’t think so,” Ella says. She pulls the plug out of the sink and dries her hands on a small towel as she turns to face me. “I think I’m just going to leave him to sleep.”
The parade starts at 9:30AM. I didn’t expect it to be so early, but I have twenty minutes to get ready before I head off with Ella and my two stepbrothers, leaving the third at home, asleep in the room next door to mine. I try not to think about him too much.
Instead, I focus on trying to spy a parking spot with Ella, but it’s close to impossible. The streets are packed with cars and people and stalls on every corner selling American flags. We end up parking nine blocks away, walking the distance to Main Street. It’s completely closed off for the event as the public line the sidewalk with their flags and painted faces. The four of us find a spot to stand in nearer the end of the street, but we have a great view when the parade finally reaches us. There are horses and marching bands and vintage cop cars and giant posters and fire trucks and street performers and floats, and by the end of it all I’m sick of the colors red, blue and white. But it’s a nice start to the day, nonetheless, and it gives me a two-hour insight into how Santa Monica celebrates the momentous occasion. But I still think Portland has a much better Fourth of July vibe to it and I can’t help but wish I was there instead, back home with my mom and Amelia, getting ready to head down to the edge of the river to listen to a whole bunch of different bands perform.
The traffic is crawling slowly at the end of the parade, so Ella decides to wait around downtown for it to clear. We kill time by going for lunch at a small café. Chase trails his flag along with him and I look like an adopted child: Ella and the boys are blond; I’m dark brunette.
“Did your dad tell you about the fireworks tonight?” Ella asks me once we finish ordering sandwiches, folding her arms on the table as she smiles over at me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Where’s Culver City?”
“Around twenty minutes away. This city hasn’t done fireworks since 1991,” she says, shaking her head in pity, “so we normally go out to Marina del Rey, but they’re not putting on a display this year. We’ve heard the Culver City fireworks are great, though. A lot of people are heading down there tonight.”
“Is Tyler going?” Once I say it, I glance down. Maybe I’m being too obvious, so I quickly rephrase the question. “I mean, we’re all going, right?”
“Of course. Are you excited, Chase?” She grins down at him in a warm, proud sort of way. As Chase nods back enthusiastically, I realize I’ve never noticed her look at Tyler in such a way, and it suddenly makes me feel unsettled and, somehow, sad. He’s just a reckless kid who makes it impossible to be proud of him. I wish he wasn’t like that.
After I pick at my lunch and we visit a few stores, we eventually head back to the house mid-afternoon. Tyler’s awake by now. I know because I can hear him moving around his room; there’s a constant rhythm of footsteps. It’s like he’s pacing back and forth.
I decide to make a start on getting ready for tonight’s events, so I grab a shower and hang around my room for a while, comparing outfits and waiting for my hair to dry. I even play some music, and I’m waiting for Tyler to knock on the wall again and tell me to turn it down, but there’s nothing but silence on his end.
After I resort to blow-drying my hair, I grow thirsty, so I decide to head downstairs. I tidy up a little first, turning off my music before I leave, and then I make my way down the staircase.
For some reason, the house is silent and I wonder if everyone’s gone out, but when I get into the hall, something catches my eye from the kitchen. It’s Ella and Tyler. But they’re not standing around making food or having a conversation. Far from it. I edge toward the archway, silently watching from afar, and I peer around the corner.
Tyler’s head is buried in Ella’s shoulder. She has her arms wrapped around him while she rests her chin on his shoulder, her eyes shut. But he’s just breathing heavily against her, his shoulders sunk low and his arms hanging by his side. There are some sighs or some sniffs, almost a mixture of both, and I can’t tell if one or both of them are crying. Ella’s just holding him. Holding him as though her life depends on it.
“I get it,” she murmurs, but her voice is cracked. “You’re allowed to feel like this, Tyler. You have every right to. It can all become too much sometimes.”
It’s obvious something’s wrong. I just don’t know what. I’m waiting for Tyler to say something in reply, but he never does. The only thing I hear is the sound of the front door opening at the other end of the hall and my dad’s voice calling, “Guess whose work let out early?”
Immediately, Tyler draws away from Ella, quickly lifting his head and walking to the other side of the kitchen. He exhales and runs both hands through his hair. I notice how swollen his eyes look just before he wrenches open the patio door and steps outside.
Ella presses a hand to her chest as she stares after his departing figure, her lips trembling. But she manages to get over it before Dad can see, and she jumps into action and starts operating the coffee machine.
“Enjoy the parade?” Dad asks me, and I straighten up. I clear my throat and just nod as he passes me while loosening his tie. He grins and makes his way into the kitchen, where he’s greeted by his wife’s beaming smile.
I wonder if he knows it’s fake.
“We’re all going in the same car,” Dad announces two hours later once we’re all ready to leave for Culver City. “There’s only three seats in the back, so you’re all just going to have to squeeze up. Chase, you’ll have to duck down onto the floor if we pass the cops.”
Tyler folds his arms across his chest and rolls his eyes as he leans against the wall of the hall. He’s back to normal again. A smirk on his lips, his eyes challenging. I’m still curious as to what was wrong earlier and the questions are eating away at me, but I know I can’t ask. It’s just not my place.
“Why can’t I just take my own car?” he asks.
“Because you’re grounded and you’re not getting your car, that’s why,” Dad shoots back without so much as a glance toward him. “You and Eden, keep your phones on so we can find you at the end of the night. Jamie, Chase, you’ll stay with us.”
“Is that the end of Dave’s stupid-ass safety explanations?” Tyler mutters, a smug grin on his face, his eyes narrowed. The expression is almost permanent by now.
Dad doesn’t look impressed. “Just get in the car.”
Tyler laughs as we all make our way out to the Range Rover and clamber inside with four of us squashed uncomfortably into the backseat. We’re not even in a suitable position to wear seatbelts, so I sit there with Chase on my left and Tyler on my right, and we’re all so packed in that my body is pressed against Tyler’s. I look at my feet while he stares out the window, and the hair on my arms begins to stand up as the heat from his skin warms mine. I bite my lip to keep myself quiet, but when I notice his shoes halfway through the journey I simply have to speak. He’s wearing white Converse, just like I am.
“I didn’t know you wore Converse,” I muse, quiet enough beneath Dad and Ella’s conversation that they can’t hear me.
He glances sideways down at me as his soft eyes meet my gaze. “Yeah.”
And that’s all we say during the entire journey to Culver City. The traffic is unbelievable, so we end up being stuck in the car for forty minutes until we finally come to a stop outside the local high school. It turns out the firework display is here, and Ella was right about there being a lot of people going. We have to pay to get into the school parking lot, and then we have to donate even more to get into the event itself. At least we don’t get pulled over on the way here for overloading the car.
“If any of your friends are here, you can go find them,” Ella tells Tyler and me as we all make our way inside the school, following the signs to the football field. “We’ll call you at the end if we can’t find you again, okay?”
“And behave yourself,” Dad adds, but he’s only looking at Tyler. Because Tyler is the only one he needs to worry about, because Tyler is unpredictable, because Tyler is reckless.
“Yeah, yeah, we will,” he mutters, and then waves our parents away. He speeds up to get away from them, swiftly edging his body through the flow of people in front of us before he disappears.
“I know that Meghan is here,” I tell my dad, but my eyes are still focused ahead, searching for the back of Tyler’s head. “I’m gonna go find her.”
“Be careful,” he warns me, but then gives me the go-ahead with a curt nod.
I weave my body away from them, speed-walking in Tyler’s direction through the hallways of Culver City High School. I can hear the faint echo of a marching band in the distance and it makes me feel as though I’m on my way to a high school football game. Which I kind of am.
The display is being held above the football field, and when I get to the back door of the school and spill outside with the crowd, there are already thousands of people in the stands and on the field. There are food stalls around the track and the sun begins to set in the distance as the crowd thickens. There’s no way I’m finding Meghan.
All around me there are families and elderly couples and groups of college kids milling around, while others have chosen to set up chairs and blankets on the field to ensure they can watch the show in comfort. Whereas I’m now alone and wishing that I’d just stayed with my dad.
“I didn’t think you were the type to go off on your own,” a voice says beside me, loud over the noise of the band and the conversations around us. It’s Tyler, and he’s staring at me with a curious glint in his eyes and a small smile playing on his lips. “We can talk now.”
“Now?” I echo in disbelief. Out of all the places and times he could have chosen, he chooses the middle of the Fourth of July celebrations.
“I didn’t mean right here,” he murmurs, looking past me as he studies the field, the people, the stalls. “Come on.” He keeps his face low as he turns around and eases his way back in whatever direction he came from while I anxiously follow at his heels.
We’re heading away from the field and back toward the main school building, pushing our way there against the flow of people. My heart is in my stomach as we get back inside. I don’t know if he’s going to be furious at me or if he’ll be willing to accept my apology, and the thought of the former is making me feel as though I could throw up again.
I’m so preoccupied with nerves that I almost miss him take me down a hallway that clearly has a sign stating “NO ENTRY.” Only certain hallways are open to allow the public to get out onto the field; the rest of the school seems to be shut off. But Tyler disregards these rules, and I feel too nauseated to even bother arguing with him. We soon reach the end of the hallway that we’ve been sneaking along, and Tyler comes to a stop.
The noise from outside is barely noticeable now, and given that the lights in these hallways are all off, the only thing lighting up Tyler’s face is the dusk sun streaming in through the windows. I can see the field from here, but it’s not the field that I’m interested in. It’s the person in front of me.
He stares at the wall for a few moments before he turns to face me, all smugness gone from his expression. And thankfully, his eyes are gentle. He swallows. “What the hell happened on Saturday?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice catching in the back of my throat as my stomach knots. “I’m sorry. You were just—you were annoying me and I didn’t want you to buy more drugs and I just—I just did it. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, okay? It’s really weird and it’s making me feel sick and we just need to pretend it didn’t happen.”
He stares at me as he runs his tongue across his lower lip. “I wish I could say the same about me.”
“What?” Now that I’ve blurted what I’ve needed to blurt, I feel slightly more at ease. That is, of course, until he looks at me in a way I’ve never seen him look at me before. And my entire body ignites again, just like it did on Saturday.
“I kissed you back,” he states bluntly. “I’m not going to apologize for that.”
“Why?”
For a short moment, his eyes smolder at me as he decides whether or not to answer. They’re soft and calm, yet his voice is sharp. “Because I knew exactly what I was doing.”
“Why did you do it?” My voice is almost a whisper as my heart hurls itself back and forth against my ribcage, creating a dull ache in my chest as the knot in my stomach grows tighter.
“Because I’ve wanted to do it so fucking badly,” he snaps. He spins his body around, turning his back to me as he heaves a sigh and presses a hand to the wall.
“You’ve wanted to?” I repeat. Now I’m just lost and confused and feeling sicker than ever. “What the hell are you saying?”
“You want the honest truth?” I nod even though he can’t see me, and he lets his head hang low as he shakes it at the ground. “I’m saying that I’m fucking attracted to you, alright, Eden?” The moment the words escape his lips, he swivels his body back around, his eyes no longer gentle as storms grow within their depths. “And I know I shouldn’t be, because you’re my damn stepsister, but I just can’t help it. It’s stupid as hell and I know you don’t feel the same way, because you’re fucking apologizing for Saturday.” He pauses for a split second as he glances down at the ground. “I really wish you hadn’t said sorry for it. Because apologizing means regretting.”
I’m stunned into silence. Tyler, the guy who’s treated me like a doormat since the day I got here, is in fact attracted to me? It doesn’t make sense at all. “I thought you hated me,” I manage to reply, because it’s the only thing running through my head.
“I hate a lot of people,” he says gruffly, “but you’re not one of them. I hate the fact that you turn me on. Like, a lot.”
“Stop,” I say. I take a step back from him, shaking my head and holding up a hand. “You’re my stepbrother. You can’t say that.”
“Who makes up these bullshit rules, huh?” He viciously laughs, turning to look out the window before fixing his eyes back on me. “Three weeks ago I didn’t even know who you were. I don’t see you as a sister, okay? You’re just some girl I’ve met. How the hell is it fair to label us as siblings?”
Now I could really throw up. My mind is spinning, my thoughts drowning in questions. “You have a girlfriend,” I whisper. “Tiffani’s your girlfriend.”
“But I don’t want her to be!” he yells, and he’s quite clearly irritated that I’ve even mentioned her. He runs a hand back through his hair and pulls on the ends. “I don’t want to be with Tiffani, okay? Don’t you get that? She’s just another distraction.”
“What the hell is up with you and distractions?”
“NOTHING,” he shouts. Exhaling, he presses his lips together and lowers his voice again. “I’ve said what I’ve needed to say, you know what I think of you, you’ve made it clear you think differently, I’m done. Enjoy the fucking fireworks.” He storms past me, both hands now in his hair, and the vein in his neck is clearly defined.
“Wait,” I say. Staring after him, I watch him pause in the dull hallway. But he doesn’t turn around. He only stands there, his shoulders rising in sync with his breathing. “You didn’t give me the chance to tell you that I find you interesting.”
