For a reason that escapes me, Sascha actually looks kind of hot today. Instead of the usual flannel-over-hoodie and jeans combination, he's wearing a striped shirt under a black denim jacket. His hair, ebony and unruly, is brushed back, and he's even gotten rid of the cowboy scruff. His tongue plays with a toothpick sticking out between his teeth, and when I get in the car, he nods sharply in the hey-man-what's-up greeting.
"You look remarkably normal today," I greet in turn.
"Love you too."
"You going on a date?" I ask, closing the car door.
"Naw, we have a date with the son of Springfield's bitch."
"What the fuck is Springfield?"
"Jesus," he says softly. "You don't know anything about Warrent, do you?"
I frown. "Why aren't you driving?"
"Because I figure this is gonna take longer than the two minutes we have until we get to school, and I don't want the wrong person hearing us at school."
"Okay, what the fuck is happening?"
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. "This is risky shit, okay?"
"Uh-huh."
"But Tardus wants it done as soon as possible, and there happens to be a good chance for us to take. So we're taking it."
". . . Continue."
"There's a football game today. The captain is the next alpha in line for Springfield's pack. Trust me, he's a total knucklehead and super easy to manipulate. We were gonna meet up with him after school, but like I said, Tardus wants us to do this. We have a big delivery and the times would clash otherwise. The kid's name is Ryan, and you'll probably see more of him. His pack is a big buyer of our stuff, and they practically own all of Springfield."
I snicker. "Ryan and Rion, really?"
"I dunno. They're probably equally shitty."
"What is this meeting about?"
"It's about our relations with an enemy gang of theirs. Apparently, Redeye has been trying to take over some new territory, and Springfield doesn't like that. The only issue is that Redeye's been buying our shit for years, and Tardus and our associates in Warrent aren't so sure about giving them up. So Springfield called us to meet in the middle, and of course they're completely insulting us by sending their bum ass kid to represent them."
"So they're saying they want to get their way? How are they gonna do that by insulting Warrent?"
"War, maybe. It's why we're agreeing to this shit, as demeaning as it is."
"Does Marcel know about any of this?"
"The big guy doesn't give a shit about small town drama, even if we're his biggest supplier in the deep south. I think we'll be fine. He won't step in unless he thinks we'll lose."
"You won't lose, will you?"
Sascha smirks and pulls away from the curb. "They may be wolves, but we have the silver bullets."
——
I check my phone for the time. Tao appears in the door and flounces into the seat beside me. On the row opposite to me, I see Sascha texting someone. He hasn't done any of the work so far, but he seems dedicated enough to his job to refrain from skipping. He's also sat near me during lunch every day, and he seems to have made a friend in Dominic, which is a relief. I may be patient, but there's something so irritating about the dudes, bros, and mans he throws around all day.
My first period starts, and my mind drifts back to the Springfield situation. I don't like risking my identity, but I guess if Tardus and Sascha trust Ryan, then I can too. Hopefully. Maybe. Also, Marcel might know I'm joining them, and if he does, he definitely gave the go-ahead. It's at least a little reassuring to consider that, but it's only an if, and there's still an excited murmur in my head that wants me to believe it'll all go wrong. Hell, maybe the school will get shot up and they'll frame me.
I tear my eyes from where they've been glued to on the whiteboard and look at Tao's paper. He's doodling sushi in one corner, and I take the time to watch. Time drags by. Tao starts making a four-course meal on his paper.
A muffled wham tears me from my focused stare. The sound rattles off the lockers and sends a stone of fear rolling down into my gut. The teacher jumps and goes to close the door, but the bell stops her. She gives up and heads back before the first few people can run her over. I hurry to put my stuff away and stand to leave. I approach the door, and I feel a sickening dizziness that almost makes me lose my balance.
I see white. An unseen knife is driven into my heart, and I would have collapsed had I not experienced so much pain in recent weeks. I grab onto the wall and turn out of the way, feeling my shoulder meet metal. It's hardly painful, though, in comparison to the scorching hell that whirls mockingly in my stomach. My knees feel numb and strengthless, and I go down with a dull thud. I wrap my arms around my stomach in a pathetic attempt to shield myself, but the pain broils internally, deep beneath in a place I can't reach.
Someone touches my shoulder. "You alright, my dude?"
My vision clears, but the pain remains. I inhale and force the air out, steadily pushing myself up with the wall. I see Sascha walk around me, into view, and he's got a disconcerted look on his face, with a backwards draw in the corners of his mouth and twin wrinkles between his brows. I see the flash of a varsity jacket behind him, and he's shoved aside. I see dirty blond hair and flashing blue eyes, and I feel the breath get knocked out of me. In an instant, every ounce of agony is replaced with an addicting bliss, and that blissful smell surrounds me, sending butterflies flitting around my stomach. Rion buries his face in my neck and inhales deeply, and I feel his hand find my curls. He holds me in place, and we breathe together, and I feel and hear nothing except for us together.
Rion pushes me away. My back hits the lockers, and I stare in shock, feeling low, aching pain settling down once again. I see a red splotch on his face, but he whirls around and barges through the crowd before I can get a good look at it. Sascha grumbles something and snatches my arm, pulling me out of my stupor, and he yanks me in the opposite direction to our next class. I follow hesitantly, confused and somewhat hurt.
My second period drags on. I'm impatient and distracted, and even Sascha's nudges to my side do nothing. More than ever, Rion invades my thoughts and settles down for the night, and I know it'll be at least hours before I see the dawn again.
After what feels like a century, and certainly must have been by the teacher's slow descent into mindless droning, we're dismissed to lunch. I leap out of my chair so hard I bang my knee, but I'm too restless to care. After this, I can see Rion at the football game, and maybe I can even corner him afterwards. Sascha fumbles to follow me, and I dodge students as I head out of the classroom and into the busy hallway.
"Yo, slow down, seriously," Sascha says in my ear. I don't pay an ounce of attention to him.
The cafeteria is bright and airy. It smells faintly like chips and the indescribable amalgamated smell of hundreds of days of high school lunches. I slide into my seat at the art table, and Sascha barely sits his ass beside me before I see pink clawed hands slam down on the table. I jump.
"I think we should talk," Jessie snarls.
I lock eyes with her. She's wearing makeup, which wouldn't be distracting if her eyeshadow wasn't a glittery hot pink. "We should?"
"Yeah, I think we should."
I stand and follow her. We go out of the cafeteria and down the hall, and I notice that it's the same hallway I found Rion fucking her in. It's definitely a visual I don't need right now, and the pain in my stomach agrees with me.
Jessie turns to me and places her hands on her hips. "My dad spilled the beans. He's shit at lying to me, you know."
My head finds a new home in the stratosphere. "You're not gonna call the police, are you?"
She frowns. "Ew, no. I just wanna know why you're doing this."
"I have a . . . thing."
"A thing."
"Yes, a thing. It's a deal. I work a little for them, and they protect me from some guys who I pissed off."
"Are you telling the truth?"
"Yes. What about you? Why are you like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like . . ." I wave my hands at her. "Like a bitch."
"I know I'm a bitch, okay? It's my daily fucking mantra. Be a bitch and no one gets close to you."
"I'm not following."
"I don't like people in my shit, so I act like a bitch. Dressing like this helps. It's also fun, but I mostly do it because it makes me look like a walking cliche. I'm the head cheerleader; the queen of the school, the untouchable. I want to keep it that way."
"Why?"
She sighs, frustrated. "Because apparently I was abused. But I don't think it was abuse."
"Who told you it was abuse?"
"This fucking therapist."
"Uh, right."
"And it's not even that bad! So what if my ex hit me once or twice? My mom used to hit me all the time—"
Okay.
"—and he was a total whore so he wanted me over all the time."
Mmm. I see where this is going.
"And now I'm the bad guy for doing what literally all teenage boys like? Come on, there's no way you're not horny 24/7. It's literally in your hormones or something."
I grimace. "I don't know, it's different for everyone."
"Whatever. You hang out with all the gay kids, so you're an outlier. My point is that he did kind of hurt me in the end and now I'm owning my shit."
I want to tell her that it's possible to own her shit without being abusive and manipulative, but she has someone far more qualified to tell her that in a far more gentle way.
"So, uh, is that all?" I ask awkwardly.
"No." She makes it sound like the most obvious thing in the world. "I want to know who gave my dad that money."
My mind goes utterly silent, snow in a quiet neighborhood.
"Hello?" Jessie asks.
"Yes, uh, I did. Er, don't tell anyone, but I'm actually pretty good at investing. It's given me some big returns, and I was feeling kind of generous."
"Why did you give my dad the money to pay the debt off if you think I'm a bitch?"
"I didn't do it for you," I say defensively. "When I see someone who clearly wants the money to help their shit ass family, especially when he clearly doesn't know how to cover up at all, I can't help but feel a tiny bit of shame if I let that person risk their life. If I didn't save your dad's ass, he'd be six feet under. You're fucking welcome."
Jessie takes that surprisingly well. Her face doesn't twitch at all. "Okay, and my last point is your relationship with Rion."
"Huh?"
"Help me get back together with him. I know you're friends with him."
"Why should I do that?"
"I don't know, because I like him and I regret what I said and I want him back?"
"You cheated on him."
"That was a year ago. He's over it."
"How do you know that?"
She falters. Her mouth drops open. Senseless noises fly out of her mouth. "B-because he hasn't broken up with me." I raise my brows. "Okay, yeah, he did, but none of them have been permanent. And I'm getting him back. I will."
"Please tell him," I say.
"About what?"
"Your ex."
"He won't care."
"How do you know that?"
"Because—I don't know, I just do. He doesn't care about anything I do."
"So why stay with him?"
"Because I know him, and I know he won't leave."
"But—"
"Go fuck yourself, you gay ass bitch." Jessie spins on her heel and stomps off. She throws a tasteless middle finger up as she goes, and I roll my eyes and start heading back to the cafeteria.