W\\CKED

Would You Die to Save Her?

[Sanny] 

I sat across from Kay, who was settled against Max on a couch. He was describing how his mother surprised him on his birthday last year by painting his bedroom the worst color of green in existence. "Thank god I'm never going to have to stare at that pea soup shit again."

"You're redoing it?" I asked. "You'd look gorgeous surrounded by burgundy."

"I'm never going to sleep there again. I'm leaving with the band. They need a dazzling manager to look out for them. With my upbringing, I'm practically overqualified for the position."

I sat up straight. This was news. "You're running off to California?"

"I've got nothing to stay here for."

That stung. "Thanks for the rating of zero."

"I didn't mean it that way. Come with us. You'd make a great bodyguard."

"Leave everyone behind? I can't do that."

"I knew there was no point in asking," he sulked.

I softened up. "I appreciate that you asked, but this isn't right for you either. You're running away from your problems. Not to mention the millions you're set to inherit."

Kay snorted. "It's not worth sticking around that hellhole for."

"You don't know what it's like to be broke." I couldn't believe how dense he was being. He couldn't even work up the nerve to visit my family's moldy old house; what made him think he could spend his whole life slumming it in cheap motels with a band? Not every gig was as swagged up as this one, he had to know that. 

"You think you can live like I do?" I stuck my boot heel out at him, so he could see the duct tape on the bottom of the sole. "You think you can live a life where everything you own is broken?"

Kay laughed. It came right up through his nose and sounded a hell of a lot like contempt. "I would love to be wearing your shoes. They're not half as ruined as my life."

"I know the step-ass is a jerk and your mom might as well live on another planet, but is that really so hard to deal with? Next year, you can go to college and only see them on holidays. Why not hold out for a few months?"

"I've held out for seven years." The words were hollow. "I can't do it for another minute."

"Is this about what you said earlier?" He was not shutting me out this time. "Is your stepdad cheating on your mom? Because if he is, that's not your problem. You should tell her and let her break up with him or scream it out. You shouldn't feel like that's your secret to keep."

Kay buried his face further in Max's shoulder. "It's not that simple."

Max returned my demanding stare. His expression chilled me. "You call yourself his friend, when you don't know what he's been through?"

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded.

"Max," Kay said uncomfortably.

I turned on him. "What did he mean? What is he saying about me?"

"He didn't mean anything. Let it go."

I shoved out of my seat, stomping to the nearest window. I was acting like I was two and I knew it. But Max's look scared me, which made me angry, which made me act like I was two. I stared out at the narrow alley between buildings, trying to get my calm back . Why was Kay so hell-bent on leaving now? What was so bad about being around his stepfather that he couldn't bear it for another minute?

My phone buzzed.

I would have ignored it, but the battery for the phone was still in my other pocket. Technically, there was no power for the phone to buzz with.

I pulled it out. There was a text message on the screen. There was no ID attached to it. Only empty space where a name or number should have been.

I know where you are.

Was it Brandon again? He didn't seem the type to play cryptic games.

I replied: Who is this?

I know who you are with.

Was one of the band members playing a joke on me? I glanced around; no one had their phone out.

I know what he is doing to your friend.

I glanced at the door to the bedroom. This was starting to freak me out. Another message flashed on the screen.

Are you willing to protect her?

I shoved the phone in my pocket, though my fingers were unwilling to let go of it. I glanced at the door again. There was nothing going on in there that I should interrupt. The phone without a battery vibrated in my grip. A thought flashed through my mind, as if I was reading it on a screen:

Would you die to save her? Or are you too spineless to face the truth?

Where the hell do you get off calling me spineless?! I thought. I was arguing with my imagination. What was wrong with me? But what if something really is happening to J? And I'm standing here letting it happen. God, that's ridiculous. This whole argument with myself is ridiculous.

There was only one way to prove Juliet wasn't in trouble. I steeled myself against the thought that I was walking in on something I had no business seeing and moved toward the door—