Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

Classic Kendall move—if you can’t beat them, distract them with something shiny.

“Which means what, exactly?” I ask.

“Epic party. A friend of a friend of a girl I met on So You Think You Can Model goes to Washington University. She’s having a big welcome-back-to-campus thing. College boys, Lainey. You’ll forget all about your slew of questionable choices this summer.”

“The only questionable thing I did was make out with your brother after he dumped me,” I say. “And isn’t it a little early for the Wash U kids to be coming back to campus?”

“I think she plays tennis or something so she has to be back early for practice,” Kendall says. “Even better. A whole party full of jocks. Say you’ll go with me. I don’t want to go alone.”

“I guess,” I say. But inside I’m kind of dreading it.

I’m at work when Kendall texts me the next day:

You ready?

Me: I dunno K. Not sure if I’m up for it.

Her: Trust me. Tonight will be life changing. You get off at 7?

Me: Yeah.

Her: My jeep is in the shop. Apparently I trashed the transmission. If Jay drops me at Denali, can we take your car?

Me: Okay.

I’m too tired to even argue. Maybe she’s right and I do need to get out. Maybe I need anything that will get my mind off Micah. Thankfully he left early today, so I only had to endure a couple hours of him treating me like a stranger.

Kendall sashays her way through the front doors right at seven. She’s dressed in a skimpy sundress short enough to almost be illegal and platform sandals tall enough to definitely be impractical. The effect makes me think of “sexy circus performer.” I watch as she heads across the front of the dining room toward the corner booth.

She pulls her phone out of her purse and starts texting away while she waits for me. There are a couple of people in line. As I ring them up and help Ebony make their drinks, I see Kendall look repeatedly up at the clock on the wall and then back down at her phone.

By the time I clear the line, clock out, and flop down across from her in the booth she looks positively irritated. “Took you long enough,” she says. “I wanted to find someplace to get food before the party.”

“You mean like a coffee shop?” I say, looking around.

“No. Good food.”

Since Kendall’s daily caloric intake doesn’t usually break triple digits, I have no idea what “good food” involves. I look down at my baggy capris and Denali T-shirt. “You have to at least let me run home and change.”

“Tell me you didn’t bring different clothes with you.” Kendall inhales so deeply I can see her impossibly flat stomach puff outward ever so slightly. But before she can unleash her monster sigh, the coconut wind chimes do their clunking thing and Micah’s little sister, Trinity, stumbles into the shop.

Her bangs are matted to her face with sweat and she’s got a smudge of dirt across her left cheekbone. Her cargo pants are ripped up the left side of her leg—not the kind of cool, trendy rip that kids spend hours with a razor to achieve. The frantic “half my butt is hanging out” rip a girl might get if she was attacked by a mountain lion.

I jump up from the booth and hurry over to her. “Trinity. Are you okay?”

“Is my brother here?” she asks, slightly out of breath.

“He left around three,” I say. There’s a golf ball–sized welt growing out of her forehead and it looks like she’s got blood between her front teeth. “What happened?”

“I’m fine.” Trinity peers up at the clock on the wall. “Did Micah mention where he was going?”

I shake my head.

She glances down at her phone. It’s got a big spiderwebby crack across the screen but the display is still functional. “He isn’t answering his cell. Hey, if he comes back by here, will you tell him to call me?”

“Yeah. Of course. I—”

She spins on her heel and heads back out into the heat without waiting for me to finish.

Kendall slides out of the corner booth and clops across the wooden floor in her sandals. “All ready?” she asks brightly. “We can zoom by your house and grab a dress for you. You can change in—”

“Hang on a minute.” I follow Trinity outside. She’s kneeling by a mangled bicycle that’s lying on the sidewalk. The front wheel is folded in a ninety-degree angle. She lifts the bike and tries to roll it next to her but it won’t roll. She drags it a few feet and then gives up. Sighing, she drops the hunk of crumpled metal and starts to walk off in the direction of her apartment building.

“Trin. Wait,” I say.

She turns around. Looks nervous. “Yeah?”

“Did you get hit by a car or something?” I ask, my voice incredulous. Her bike looks like it got hit by several cars. And then maybe a bus.

“It just clipped me. No big deal.” She turns around and keeps walking.

I catch up with her in a few strides. It doesn’t take much effort on my part since she’s way shorter than me and limping. I grab her gently by the shoulder. “Dude, you need to go to the hospital. Can I call your mom for you?”

Trinity sighs. I can see her fighting back tears. “I tried her cell too. No answer. But dinner rush is still going on. She won’t have time to check her phone until at least nine.”

“Well then, let me take you.” I can’t even believe the girl got hit by a car and she’s trying to brush it off like it’s no big deal.

“I don’t want to be a burden. Besides, I don’t think the doctors can do anything without Micah or my mom there.”

“Maybe not,” I say, “but at least you’d someplace safe in case you pass out.” I point at the lump on her forehead. It’s puffed out to the size of an egg. “You could have some kind of brain injury.”

“I’m okay. It doesn’t even really hurt that much.”

“Probably because you’re in shock.” I lean in close to check Trinity’s pupils. It’s bad if they’re different sizes, I think. Hers look normal. A fist clenches in my stomach. “Did the guy stop at least? Where did this happen?”

“A couple of blocks from here.” She looks down at the hole in her pants, adjusting the seam to cover her underwear. “He didn’t stop, but it was my fault. I didn’t wait for the light.”

“Bullshit,” I say. “That’s still a crime.”

Kendall bursts through Denali’s front door. She gestures wildly toward the parking lot. “Come on. Lose the street urchin. We’ve got places to be.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Ohmygod, Kendall. Rude much? She got hit by a freaking car.”

“So call an ambulance, already,” Kendall snaps.

“Forget her,” I say, turning back to Trinity. “You got two choices. Either you let me drive you to the ER or I call 911.”

Trinity appears to consider the offer, but then she shakes her head. “My mom can’t afford an ER bill.”

“It’s fine,” I say. “Kids are covered under state insurance when they’re your age.”

“Yeah, but you still have to pay something, right?”

“I’m not sure, but if so it’s a lot less. Look, your head might be broken, Trinity. This isn’t optional. Some things don’t heal on their own.”

She looks nervously over her shoulder at Kendall. Just the act of turning her neck makes her wince. “What about her?”

“Her head is definitely broken,” I say. “Wait here for a second.”

I backtrack to where Kendall is leaning against the front window of Denali. “We have to take her to the ER.”

“Seriously?” Kendall sighs. I know she wants to refuse but she can’t because she doesn’t have a car and there’s no guarantee Jason will come get her. If there’s one thing that Kendall Chase does not do, it’s take public transportation. “Today is the day you need to play hero? Why exactly can’t you just call 911?”