“Did I hear you sssay those two magic words—sssskinny-dipping?” He leaned heavily on her and slurred his words.
Mercy turned to frown up at him. “Not tonight.” I asked him not to get wasted! She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “I gotta get Hunter and go. You know Mom wants us home before midnight.”
He bent and booze-scented breath wafted over her. “Can’t you be a little late?”
“No.” Emily stepped between them and put her fists on her hips like Wonder Woman. “They can’t. Abigail is cool, but when it comes to family traditions she does not play—just like she doesn’t play about dudes who drink too much when they’re out with her daughter. Go away, Kirk. Sober up. Byyyye.” She hooked her arm through Mercy’s and pulled her around Kirk.
“I’ll text you tomorrow. Be sure you don’t drive home.” Mercy blew him a kiss and waved.
“Hey! I thought I was taking you home!”
“Not drunk you’re not,” Mercy said, but she smiled at him. “It’s cool, though. Stay. Have fun. Just don’t drive. Later!”
Emily didn’t say anything, which made Mercy sigh. “You hate him, too, don’t you?”
“Nope. He’s tall and hot and captain of the football team. Nothing to hate about that.”
Mercy waited and when that’s all Em said she prompted. “But?”
“No buts. I’m your bestie. If you want him I’ve got your back. I’ve also got your back if he tries to do something stupid like drink and drive with you in the car—I mean, I knew I was driving you two home before midnight so I switched to water hours ago. If he can’t figure out how to be responsible, too, then you don’t get in the car with him. That’s all.”
“I wish Hunter felt like you do. I hate that she’s such a bitch to Kirk.”
Emily stopped and faced her. “Hunter is your twin. She’s just protecting you—like you’ve always done for her. That’s what you two do. You’re there for each other. I know. I’ve been jelly of it since the first day of second grade when we met. Stop being so hard on her about it and start working on Kirk making a better impression.”
Mercy chewed her lip. “That’s what I tried to do tonight.”
Emily snorted. “Girl, try harder. I could see that Kirk was being super sweet with you, but with the rest of us? Not so much.”
“Okay, I get it. And you’re right. I just—”
Hunter hurried up. “There you are. Let’s go! We’re gonna be late.”
“H, I’ve been looking for you all night,” Mercy said.
“Be serious. Your face has been smooshed against Kirk’s all night.” Hunter strode past them, heading to the grassy lot where Emily’s car was parked and waiting for them.
Mercy didn’t say anything. The fact that Hunter was right didn’t help, but she wasn’t sure why it didn’t help. She wrenched open the front door and started to toss her boho bag to the floorboard, but Em reached around her, pulled the passenger’s seat forward, and then pointed at the empty backseat of the 1966 Thunderbird convertible that had been Emily’s sixteenth birthday guilt gift from her parents three months after her actual birthday, which they had both forgotten.
“Nope. You two sit back there. Together. Now,” Emily said firmly.
Mercy and Hunter climbed into the backseat and remained silent as Em took the windy road that followed Goode Lake around to the two-lane blacktop that led to downtown Goodeville.
“Okay. I’m so over this.” Emily glanced in the rearview mirror at the twins. “Mercy—Hunter, I hate it when you two fight. Do you know why?”
“Uh-uh,” Mercy said softly.
“I hate it because you two almost never fight, and when you do it’s like the fucking earth shifts on its axis and shit is not right. So, fix this right now and stop it. Jesus! It’s your birthday.”
Mercy gave Hunter a sideways glance. She was picking at her fingernails, her tell for being upset.
“H, I wish you’d give Kirk a chance,” Mercy said.
“And I wish you’d get over your hormones. He’s a douchebag,” Hunter shot back.
Mercy slid to the side so she could face her sister. “He’s only like that around you guys because you make him nervous.”
“Riiiiight. I make him nervous. He told you that?”
“Yes. H, underneath all that—”
“Toxic masculinity.”
“No, under all that pretend macho act is a really sweet boy who misses his mom. A lot.” Mercy sighed. “Plus, now that I’m with Kirk we’ve totally made it! H, we get invited to all the cool parties and have lots more friends.”
Hunter rolled her eyes. “You mean you get invited to all the cool parties and you have lots of new friends.”
Mercy threw her hands up in frustration. “Oh my goddess! All you’d have to do is actually participate and you’d be included, too.”
“I don’t know if I want to participate.” Hunter shook her head. “Not with them.”
Mercy chewed her lip. Why couldn’t Hunter just leave the past in the past? She hadn’t been bullied in ages. Can’t she just get over it? Mercy sighed again. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you, especially not today.”
Hunter’s sigh was a mirror of her sister’s. “Yeah, me, either. Sorry. I just don’t like how Kirk talks to you.”
“He doesn’t talk to me like that when we’re alone. Do you trust me?”
Hunter’s gaze snapped to hers. “Of course I trust you.”
“Then trust that I’m right about him.”
Hunter picked at her fingernails some more. “I’ll work on it. Promise. And I’m sorry I avoided you tonight.”
“I’m sorry I let some guy come between us. I promise not to let that happen again. And if Kirk really is a douchebag, I promise I’ll dump him faster than Xena makes Em sneeze—Goode guarantee?” Mercy lifted her hand.
“Goode guarantee!” Hunter’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded and extended her pinky, which Mercy caught with her own—pinkies still hooked, the twins tapped their knuckles together before their hands separated, fingers fluttering like birds as they shouted, “Sisters of Salem!”
“Hugsees?” Hunter said.
“Total hugsees.” Mercy grabbed her sister and squeezed her tightly.
“Yaaasss! Now those are my twins!” Emily grinned at them in the rearview mirror. “And it was a super fun party, though I don’t know what the hell happened with that scary beast thing in the smoke. And Mercy Anne Goode, I’m talking to you.”
“Hey, I don’t know, either! I just did a little witchy stuff to the wood. You shoulda just seen the cool oak tree. No clue what happened.”
“Wait, I think I know what went wrong,” Hunter said. “You only called on oak?”
Mercy nodded. “Yeah, I checked out the woodpile before they lit it—well, from a distance—but it all looked like that old oak that split from lightning last spring. They cut it up and left it at the campgrounds for people making campfires.”