The Wrong Wright

CHAPTER 6: Misery loves company

CHAPTER 6: Misery loves company

The bonfire was already up and firing by the time Bess and I got to the beach. Music drifted through the night from a speaker I was sure that someone had rented from the city hall. The smell of roasted corn and beer mixed with salt and smoke wafted into my nostrils. Half the town was here, pretending to forget they’d all just buried someone that morning. It irked me to see some of the people that were at the funeral earlier today mingling and partying.

“I’ll get us drinks!” Bess shouted over the noise, her curls already bouncing toward a guy by the food stand. Urgh! Typical. I knew it was a code word for going to make out with the boy at the food truck.

I folded my arms and stayed put, staring into the flames. Everyone looked so alive. I just felt… out of sync. I pulled at the tiny dress I borrowed from Bess after she insisted that I get out of my black mourning clothes. I couldn’t go home to change, partly because I couldn’t face Hattie. So here I was tugging on the extremely small dress and willing myself to stay through the night, at least until I saw Sheriff Kent.

A man appeared beside me, holding out a red plastic cup. “You look like you need this more than I do.”

I turned to him. Shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, crooked nose and a greasy, snake-slick grin. Alarm bells were already going off in my head. I almost dismissed him, but one look at the cup he was extending, and I changed my mind.

I took it automatically. “Thanks.”

He grinned. “Rough night?”

“It's worse,” I muttered, looking straight ahead and not at him.

He tried again. “You run the flower shop, right? The one on Harbor Lane?”

I looked at him. “Am I supposed to know you?”

His grin widened and he shook his head. “Not really. I just recognised your face.”

I turned away, swirling the contents of the cup. “Used to,” I said flatly. “It’s dying faster than my houseplants.”

He chuckled, taking it as flirtation. It wasn’t. I wished to be rid of him as soon as possible.

“Are you here alone? Or you're with your—”

I stopped him with a sharp glare. He raised his hands in surrender.

“I meant no harm.”

I scoffed. “I don't care. Save it for your next target.”

Before I could move away, a sharp, nasal voice sliced through the chatter.

“Well, well. Look who decided to crawl out of her tragic little cave. The queen of misery and all things pathetic.”

Poppy.

I turned, and of course there she was. The town’s self-appointed queen of drama, wearing a red dress too tight for comfort and a smirk too wide for decency. My opinion of her dress might be hypocritical giving how skimpy mine was.

I didn't miss the anger burning in her eyes.

“Poppy,” I said, forcing a smile. “You know what they say, it takes one to know one.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I see you have a mouth on you, even today of all days.”

“Misery loves company.”

The glare she shot at me was sharp enough to cut. Then her eyes flicked to the man beside me.

“Oh, of course, since your boyfriend dumped your ass for another woman, you just had to make yourself cozy with my boyfriend.”

My fingers curled tightly. I was not surprised that she already knew about what happened with Jett today. News travelled fast in Alderbay.

I looked at the guy who winced uncomfortably. “He offered me a drink. I didn’t even know he had a name, let alone you. Don't worry, Poppy. I have no interest in your toys.”

“How dare you!” She glared daggers. “Don’t play innocent, Emily. You’ve always had a thing for other people’s boyfriends.”

“Excuse me?” I stepped closer. “Don't be delusional. Jett was never your boyfriend. He chose me. I was his girlfriend. Not. You.”

A few heads turned. The music felt louder, the air tighter. Till that moment, she hadn't let go of the fact that Jett chose me over her. How pathetic.

Poppy sneered. “He still kicked you to the curb, didn't he?”

Her words stung. I gripped the cup so tight it began to crumple. Poppy smiled with satisfaction.

“You think losing your brother makes you the town’s tragedy poster girl? News flash: everyone’s tired of your pity parade. It's over. No one's going to cut you anymore slack.”

That one hit, but I refused to let her see it. I smiled sweetly instead. “At least I don't have to beg for a man's attention and throw myself shamelessly at any guy who gives me the smallest attention, just so I can feel a bit of validation.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You—”

“Save it,” I snapped. “I’ve had enough of you.” I stepped closer. “I'm warning you. Tonight is not the time to mess with me.”

I shoved the untouched drink back at her boyfriend and turned away before I said something worse. I turned and quickly made a beeline for the cup. I took it from his hand and walked away without looking back.

The crowd swallowed her gasp as I walked toward the other end of the beach, heart pounding, throat tight.

The bonfire crackled behind me, the sound of laughter spilling like static. As my eyes darted around in search of Bess, I felt the hot tears slid down my face. The pain of Jackson's loss, and the hurt of Jett's betrayal pressed down on me. I managed to pull a brave front before Poppy, but there was only so much I could take.

Then I saw Mr Kent, the town sheriff, arriving near the edge of the firelight. He was talking to one of the college girls who were dancing behind the speakers; more like flirting. At least my coming to the festival would not be in vain. I had heard stories of the sheriff being a womaniser and a cheat, and now I could confirm it was true.

I dropped the cup, and took off the jacket I had over the small dress. I took the scrunchie out of my hair, letting it fall down to my mid back, then I downed the contents of the cup in one go. The hot liquid burned its way down my throat, making me grimace. It served as a morale-booster.

I exhaled, straightened my shoulders, and started toward him.

Maybe tonight, finally, I'll get some answers.