“You don’t control me,” Dani says, huffing and puffing like a typical fourteen-year-old girl. “I can do what I want, when I want.”

“Not with Matthew Bonk, you can’t.”

She storms out of my room, but I don’t tell her what I want to say. I might not be able to control her, but since mi’ama isn’t here I can sure as hell do my best to make sure she doesn’t make mistakes that’ll ruin her life.

I should know. I’ve made mistakes that have ruined mine.

Did I make another one with Monika tonight?

Chapter Twenty

MONIKA

Sunday morning when I wake up, my first thought is Vic. He never answered my question in the car last night. I held my breath, wondering if he’d say something to reveal that he might have an ounce of feelings for me.

Ugh, what am I doing?

I should be thinking about why my boyfriend wants to hold off talk of us breaking up until after homecoming.

I drive to Trey’s house to finish our conversation from last night. Trey might not want to have The Talk, but ignoring our problems hasn’t made them go away.

As usual, the front door to his apartment is open. I peek my head inside.

“Hello?” I call out as I clench my hands into fists to work out the aching bones in my fingers that are reminding me that I’m more frail than I want to be.

I don’t hear sounds except for running water.

I walk further into the apartment, hoping nobody notices my slow-moving limbs. Trey must be sleeping. I peek into his room, but he’s not there. I hear him cough in the bathroom; his distinct cough that I’d recognize anywhere.

The door is cracked open. Trey is standing in front of the sink wearing a towel around his waist. He reaches into a small baggie with a few pills in it. I recognize them right away from health class sophomore year; the highly addictive drug Vyvanse. My heart starts racing and I want to leave, to pretend I’m not seeing him pop one of the pills into his mouth. If I didn’t know what it was, I could live in ignorance.

But I can’t. Not anymore.

I push the door open. It creaks, alerting Trey of my presence.

“Trey, seriously?” I say. “You’re an addict.”

I start to walk out of the apartment, but he runs after me. “Monika, it’s not what you think.”

“I think you’re addicted to illegal prescription drugs,” I say. “Actually, I know you are. What if you get caught? You could be arrested. You don’t even know what’s inside the pills. They could be laced with something that could kill you.”

I can feel the tension between us, like a cement wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t know what to say. This stuff… it makes me feel stronger and alert. It’s not gonna kill me. And I’m not addicted.”

I hold a hand up as tears well in my eyes from the finality of it all. “I can’t date you, not like this.”

He lets out a frustrated breath. “I’m already dealing with so much pressure. You have no clue what I’m going through. I can’t slow down. You’re going to say it’s all about the drugs, but it goes way deeper than that.”

I get a chill up my spine that makes me shiver. “Are you going to stop and try to fix yourself and our relationship or are we going to break up?”

He leans his head against the wall. “I need to do this. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Monika. Things have changed. I’ve changed. We’ve changed.”

“I knew things were different these past few months,” I admit. “I guess this is the end of a great thing.”

“We’ve been falling apart for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you, but this is my life now.”

“You know I can’t be a part of your life if you’re doing drugs.”

“I’m not going to stop, so spare me the lecture.” As I back away from him, he grabs my elbow. “We’re still going to homecoming Saturday night, right?” he asks.

I blink a bunch of times in disbelief. “I’m not going to homecoming. It’ll be too weird.”

He leans in and his face softens. “Listen, I know you have a dress and our friends have already planned the entire night. I want to go with you, Monika. Whether or not we get voted king or queen, it’s our destiny to go to homecoming together.”

“Our destiny? Why?” I ask, confused.

“Truth?”

I give him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Duh. I always want the truth.”