The Fire Inside by Zoe Cannon

Author:Zoe Cannon
Format: epub

Inhibition

Justine was a bundle of exposed nerves wrapped in a cellophane skin. Here on the first floor, the music she normally heard as a dull beat pounding faintly through the floor of the apartment was a throbbing screeching cacophony assaulting her eardrums from all sides. She could feel it pulsing in her head, reverberating through her bones. Ahead of her, the clack-clack of pool cues hitting balls was off-rhythm with the music, leaving her jangled and dizzy. Further ahead was a second wall of sound, the laughter and chatter of the students at the bar crashing over the room like an angry ocean.

Whoever had designed the bar had probably intended the dim yellow lights to feel homey, if they had put that much thought into it at all. Instead, to Justine’s eyes at least, they made everything blurry and indistinct. She didn’t register when anyone had started to move until they were already halfway past her. Or maybe that had less to do with the lights, and more to do with how little time she had spent in crowds for the past eight years of her life.

A boy in a football jersey shoved past her, stumbling toward the pool tables, beer sloshing over the sides of his glass as he swayed on his feet. Behind her, his friend, steadier and sharper-eyed, looked at her with recognition and opened his mouth. His lips moved in the shape of Gwen’s name. Then he closed his mouth and looked away, likely realizing his mistake just in time. Gwen and Justine might have been identical, but they looked too different for anyone to mistake them for more than a couple of seconds. Gwen was a sports car, flashy and sleek, sparkly nails and clingy tops and hair that reflected the light. Justine was an old station wagon, comfortable and functional—although the latter was debatable right now. She favored sweatpants and old t-shirts and bangs that hung into her eyes—anything she could hide behind, anything that could soothe her jangled nerves.

A little of the beer had splashed onto her arm. The smell made her stomach turn at the memory of the one time she had tried it. Not because it had made her sick—she hadn’t drunk nearly enough for that. But she’d had enough to fray her control even with Gwen there to rein her in, which was worse. She hadn’t dared to turn on the news for a week after that.

She forced herself to focus on the familiar face behind the bar. Hannah’s hair was straightened and shiny like Gwen’s, but platinum where Gwen’s was dark. She kept her face schooled into a mechanical smile, where Gwen’s was always genuine, at least with Justine. Hannah must have felt Justine’s eyes on her, because she looked over her shoulder toward her. As their eyes met, Hannah’s fake smile fell away.

Justine marched up to the bar before Hannah could find an excuse to leave. “Have you heard anything?”

Justine saw Hannah’s hesitation before she answered, saw her weighing whether it would be possible to pretend she hadn’t noticed Justine after all.

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