Read Online Precise by Rebecca Berto, Lauren McKellar - Free Book Online Page A

replies, an attempt to defend himself.
    Katie takes a gulp from her bottle. “Don’t believe you.”
    “Mm, well, no. He wasn’t a huge fan of the grog,” Brent knocks Marco’s knee as he says this, “if you know what I mean.” He’s looking at Katie now, winking, then back at Marco. “More adventurous, right?”
    “He’s babbling again, Katie.”
    “Kates, please,” she says. “It doesn’t sound right otherwise. I’ve never been called anything else.” She giggles to herself and adds, “Except by my bitch mom. I’m usually Katie. My favorite is ‘Katherine’, when she’s really mad at me.”
    “Hey,” Brent says, tapping Katie on the shoulder. “What about you? You ever try some stuff?”
    “No.”
    It sounds so simple, but Liam’s playing in her mind. She remembers him slumped against the tiles in her bathroom after she’d dropped Ella at school and had an alcohol-induced memory blackout. He was the first thing she saw and she can’t get that image out of her mind. Which reminds her …
    Ella. Ella. Ella.
    What have I done? Katie thinks. Is Ella still with her granddad? She is. She’d be with him. Her granddad wouldn’t leave her.
    She finds herself staring at a mark on the concrete steps. The party , she thinks. Lucky there are drinks here because drinks are fun. Brent never told her he had cool friends, and they’re cool, and everything’s cool.
    Drinking may not have been the responsible way to show off being capable, but it is the only way to pretend. Pretend enough, and she might be able to seem fine. Fine enough to pretend Rochelle wasn’t already telling Ella she’d be staying at hers forever.
    What am I going to do? Katie is stuck between a rock and a hard place.
    Katie bounces like an ecstatic child, and slaps her palm against the step. She suddenly needs to hear Marco’s stories to distract her. “Tell me, Marco, what’s it like? Which is your . . . ” she sways off balance and flails her arms to avert disaster, but Brent pulls her back upright. “ . . . favorite drug?”
    Marco lowers his eyes and darts his gaze across the surroundings, over by the fence, ahead under the clothesline where a group of people are chatting. He turns back, takes a final swig of his bottle and shoots a glance at her.
    “Kates,” he says, leaning in. She doesn’t retract in fear from his stiff glare—his black, black eyes only centimeters from her—though she senses she should feel intimidated. “Be careful what you say.”
    “Why?”
    “Don’t worry.”
    “No, tell me!”
    “Marco,” Brent says. His voice is soft, so close to a whisper that Katie almost missed it above the music. She catches the end of a confused headshake from Brent to Marco. As if saying, “what’s up?”
    Marco’s phone beeps and he shifts away from Katie so he can dig his hand in his pocket.
    “I have a question.”
    “Ask away.”
    “About Liam . . . ”
    “Oh.” Brent flicks invisible bits of something from his pants. Still looking down, he says, “He’s been weird when I mention you. Like when I say I haven’t spoken to you in ages, and I think we should catch up. Or that I wish we could have a quick phone call instead if we’re too busy to see each other in person. I dunno. He gets weird at the mention of your name.”
    “I haven’t noticed anything strange,” Katie lies.
    “I’m really glad that you made it tonight,” Brent adds.
    Katie swings around to Brent in a long and exaggerated way. She puts a hand on his leg to steady herself once she faces him. She smiles, glad to have some other conversation to distract her from Liam. Ella. “Hope I’m not in the way.”
    “It wasn’t that you were in the way. It was my fault because I didn’t warn Tim. I mean, this is his house.”
    “Sorry,” she says.
    “Stop apologizing. I should be the one doing that.”
    Marco stands and shuffles a few steps away. His face is glued to his phone.
    “Why?”
    “Well,” Brent says, “I’ve gone MIA