"You look like shit." Zach grins as he pours himself a bowl of Captain Crunch.
I roll my eyes and take a sip of my orange juice.
Dad rests a hand on my shoulder until I look at him.
"What's going on, Jo?" He asks as he gulps his coffee. "Your concussion acting up?"
I shake my head. Even if it is the concussion I won't tell him. He worries too much. "Didn't sleep well," I mutter and stand from the breakfast table.
"Nightmares again?" Zach's words trail into the kitchen after me.
I ignore the question and scrub the dishes.
After a minute, Dad peeks around the corner. "What are they about this time, kiddo?" He's relentless.
I put the dishes in the drying rack and face him, leaning up against the counter as I dry my hands. "Same ole." I shrug.
His eyebrows crinkle together. "You haven't dreamt about Mom in years. Is this about the case?"
I sigh. "The therapist asks me about her sometimes." As I shake my head, I mention, "It's probably just the extra stress."
I walk toward the front door and grab my backpack from the coat rack on my way.
"Have you told her it bothers you to talk about it?" He's following me through the house with dad-like determination. "Maybe I should stop in and have a word with her."
"No, dad. Really." I slip my jacket on and then my backpack. "It's not a big deal."
He shakes his head and starts toward the kitchen, waving the issue off. "Have your brother walk with you at least. I don't trust it out there nowadays." He's in the other room before I can protest.
Zach shrugs and slips his jacket on, jogging to keep up with me. "So, what's going on with you?" he asks once we're moving at a steady pace.
I wave at a neighbor whose name I've forgotten.
I can feel Zach waiting for a response as we hurry down the road toward the school.
"Do you think Mom knew what she was doing?" I ask.
He looks at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Or do you think the mental illness was too much?" I slow my pace and loop my thumbs through my backpack straps.
"I think," he blows a breath out through his teeth, "mom was a killer at heart. I never believed her mental shit."
I zip my jacket up, suppressing a shiver. "She never technically killed anyone."
"She tried hard enough!" He hits my arm.
I glance around and breathe a sigh of relief when the coast is clear. Zach has a habit of attracting unwanted attention.
"Not according to her," I mumble.
Zach stops walking. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I grab his arm and pull him along. I don't have time for his drama. "She never admitted it," I explain. "Said she didn't remember anything."
He rolls his eyes. "That's what this is all about? You think you killed that girl from your school?"
I scan the street again. "That's not what I said." Anger creeps into my tone. Zach must notice because he lets the subject drop.
We spend the rest of the walk in silence until we reach the main steps leading to the campus. Zach squeezes my shoulder as I turn to say goodbye. "I'm on your side, Jo." He flashes a small smile. "Even when you're not. I've got your back." He shrugs and pushes my shoulder before leaning closer and whispering, "If shit gets too bad, I'll tell the police how I paid for the house so they'll leave you alone."
"That's not it." The words come out before I think about it. I rock back on my heels, bite my lip. I'm about to tell him I found Claire's credit card in my wallet when a crowd of kids rushes by, trying to make it to class before the last bell rings.
Zach steadies me by my elbow as a bigger guy barrels past me and nearly knocks me over. "Prick." He clenches his teeth and shakes his head.
"Hey, I gotta go." I point over my shoulder at the crowd. "I don't want to be late."
Zach half-smiles. He opens his mouth to say something when Trevor comes out of nowhere and pushes him hard. "Hey, crackhead. How's rehab?"
Zach catches himself on the wall, runs a hand through his curly hair, and rolls his eyes. "Fuck off, kid."
Trevor's nostrils flare. In a flash, his hand is around Zach's throat. He slams him against the wall.
"Let go of him!" I take a step forward, pulling my fist back, ready to punch Trevor in the back of the head and break all the bones in my hand when one of his groupies grabs me from behind and locks me against his chest. I try to squirm from his grip but my head is throbbing.
"Who's a kid now?" Trevor's lips are inches from Zach's ear. "Can't even defend yourself from the school bully," he spits.
Zach pulls at Trevor's meaty fingers. His face has gone a deep shade of red. He can't breathe. "Fuck. You." The words are barely audible.
I'm not sure who's holding me back but I throw my elbow into his rib and stomp on his foot as hard as I can. He lets out a surprised yelp and folds over, clutching his abdomen.
I grab Trevor's arm and begin to pull him away from Zachary when he pushes me hard. I stumble, trip over his friend's foot, and crash to the ground.
Hot pain shoots through my skull. Electricity jolts through my spine as I press my fingers to the half-healed wound. My fingertips come away sticky with blood as the edges of my vision go dark.
Zachary yells something but the words are inaudible, coming in through waves. My eyes flutter open to catch Trevor stumbling away from us, holding a hand over his nose.