by Angel Lawson
With that information it’s not so hard to see the appeal of a boy like John Anderson.
“Eden?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m falling for a nerd.”
I laugh and give her a hug. “You deserve a good guy. Maybe John Anderson is it.”
We climb the steps and just as we get to the landing, I hear what sounds like a sob. I pause, holding onto Ro’s arm. She frowns, obviously having heard it, too. The stairs go up one more flight. The lights are off to discourage students from going up there and the doors closed at the top. I turn the corner and see a pair of scuffed school loafers.
In the shadows I see a girl—maybe a freshman or sophomore. Her face is splotchy and red, her hair a mess. She looks up, panicked.
“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing at Rochelle. She’s not the first girl I’ve found crying in the Sparrowood stairwell.
She juts out her chin. “I’m fine. I just needed a minute alone.”
My eyes sweep over her. She doesn’t look injured but there’s a small tear in the collar of her white shirt.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Emma White.”
“Here,” Rochelle says, reaching in to her bag. She pulls out a pack of makeup wipes and tugs one out. “Waterproof mascara is the only way to survive this place. Better for crying.”
The girl takes the cloth and gently wipes under her eyes. It doesn’t take away the redness but cleans up the black streaks. “Thanks.”
“Want to tell us what happened?” Rochelle asks, sitting beside her.
“No. It’s embarrassing.”
“Bad grade? Mean girls? Dickish guy?” She nods at me. “Girlfriend got her ass almost drowned her first week of school, and I sucked so many dicks my jaw still aches.”
“Ro!” I snap.
She keeps talking. “We’ve been through it all. If you need help, we’ve got your back.”
She looks up at me thoughtfully. For a second, I think she may confide in us, but a wall slams up. “It’s nothing. I’m super competitive and I hate losing.”
“Oh sports?” Rochelle shrugs. “I can’t help you with that. Too sweaty.”
The girl laughs darkly. “Not sports, well, not in the traditional sense. My friends and I are in this competition, or contest, I guess. I thought I was killing it but, I fell into last place today, so maybe not.”
“What kind of competition?” I ask.
Her jaw sets and her demeanor changes. She stands and smooths out her skirt. “I just needed a minute to get my head on straight. I’m not out, I just have to up my game, you know? Prove that I’m better than them.” Her eyes meet mine. “Kind of like you did to Camille when she hazed you.”
So she does know who I am.
“What kind of game is this?” She starts down the stairs and I grab her arm. “Hey, what are you playing?”
“Can’t say. It’s for underclassmen only. If I tell you, I’ll get penalized.”
Penalized? What the heck is going on.
She runs her hands over her hair and tucks the tissue into her skirt pocket. “But thanks for stopping. You made me remember that sometimes it’s not just about winning the game, it’s about letting them know who’s boss.”
She turns the corner and heads downstairs. I look at Rochelle and ask, “What just happened?”
“I don’t know, maybe you’re some kind of private school Katniss Everdeen.”
“She could do something really dumb.”
“Then she can join the club.” Rochelle snorts and leaves me standing in the stairway alone, trying to figure out what just happened.
23
Dorian
The service day in Kingston is a risk. Taking the K-Boys and Eden back to their stomping grounds is likely to bring up a lot of emotions. Allowing Trip and his friends to come along is like pouring fuel on the fire.
If Eden and the boys were still feuding, I probably wouldn’t have allowed them to all come, but something has cooled between them. Or, I consider, seeing Hawk’s hand linger on her lower back, heated up.
That definitely leaves me with some conflicted feelings.
“You look worried,” Coach Dawson says as he gets off the bus. He stretches his boulder-sized arms over his head.
“This group is complicated,” I say, nodding to the sidewalk where they stood in different cliques. Even though they’re in matching volunteer shirts, it’s obvious they’re not cohesive. “But maybe a little fresh air will do them good.”
Dawson gathers them around and gives them instructions.
“Today we’re working on a new home for an older resident of the community that lost her house in a fire. The foundation is laid and today we’ll start the framing. Everyone will be assigned a job, and I expect you to do as you’re told.” He glares at the kids. “Even those of you on clean up duty.”
A few kids groan.
“No wandering off. No sneaking to the corner store. We’ll break for lunch at noon, and the school sent coolers filled with food.”
He pulls out a list of assignments and starts calling out names and corresponding jobs.
“Got a minute,” I say to Hawk.
He nods, and we walk over to the side. “It’s pretty quiet out,” I tell him, “but you know the Park will get busier as the day goes on. Please don’t make me regret this.”
“What do you think we’re going to do?”
“You’re unpredictable, Hawk.” I rub my forehead. “I’m less worried about the neighborhood than you getting into it with Trip. I want you to stay clear of him. Also, keep an eye on Eden.”
He laughs. “Those two things are incompatible.”
“What do you mean?”
“Eden’s got her panties twisted about something going on at school—the sparrow thing.”
“The pins, yeah. Did she hear something else?” I’d started noticing them around school after she said something. Even today, in casual clothes a few of the girls had them tacked to their collars.
“She thinks there’s some kind of game going on with the younger girls.” He glances at a cute brunette named Emma. “A competition. She’s got on her detective hat.”
“Is Trip involved?”
“Isn’t he always?”
Good point.
I sigh. “This day is about community and service. I need you to keep everyone in line.”
“I can manage the guys, but Eden? If you want to manage her, then you’ll have to do it yourself.”
“I thought you guys were getting along better?”
A faint, smug smile tugs at his lips. “We are, and one thing I’ve learned is that if I want things to stay good between us, I have to remember she’s not one of the guys. She needs a little freedom, and she can take care of herself.”
It’s a very mature response. Maybe Hawk is finally growing up. I glance over at Eden, who is talking to her friends. “I’ll handle her.”
He laughs. “Good luck, brother.”
The kids seem energized to put on hard hats and sling tool belts around their waists. They hook up with a member of the Habitat crew and get started on their assignments. I’m happy to see everyone busy—Eden on one side of the house hammering nails while Trip is on the other carrying lumber. The K-Boys are spread out through the project.
Maybe this will work.
“You any good with a drill?” a crew member asks me.
“Sure,” I reply. I worked construction for my uncle for a few years. “What do you need.”
A few minutes later I’m at the back of the house, drilling holes for sections of the roof. The manual labor, along with the fresh air, feels good, and I get busy with the job. I see Eden occasionally, face bright, joking with Rochelle, and my nerves fade. At least until it’s time to stop for lunch.
That’s when Eden goes missing.
24
Eden
I know Coach Dawson told us to stay put.
I know if Dorian finds out, he’ll kill me.
But the tug is too strong. The pull intense.
I haven’t been back here in months, and even though I thought I could handle it, that the guys would be the one to struggle, I’m the one that slowly starts to fall apart.
At first, it’s just the smell of fried food wafting off the vents behind the Chicken Shack. It makes me nostalgic. Then hungry. No one notices as I wander to the edge of the property, and I justify that it’s not a big deal for me to cross the street and turn down toward the Park.
The sights and smells hit me full force. I see the stoop where Hope and I used to eat ice pops in the summer, and the graffiti wall where I learned my first bad words. I look up at the apartments overhead, the ones that used to have the best views of the city before the high rises and studio apartments encroached from every direction.
Knowing I’ve pushed it too long, I start back to the project site.
“Eden?”
A familiar voice calls my name. I turn and look up in the upstairs window of one of the apartments. I shade my eyes and call out, “Shelby?”
She yelps and waves her hands, saying, “Don’t move,” as she vanishes behind the filmy blue curtain. A moment later she pushes through the street level door and rushes toward me. My heart skips a beat, seeing my friend after so long. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail and I’m pretty sure she’s still in her pajamas, but that doesn’t stop her from lunging at me and engulfing me in a massive hug.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, looking me over. Her eyes land on the T-shirt and the Sparrowood logo. “I heard a rumor you were at some swank school.”
“That rumor was true,” I say, wiping a tear from my eye. It’s so good to see her.
“Better that than the others.”
“What were those?” I can’t help but ask out of curiosity.
She counts off her fingers. “Juvie, obviously. Runaway. Vegas. Kidnapped. Oh and my favorite, you ran off with the K-Boys to be their sex slave.”
“Slave isn’t the word I would use to describe my relationship with the K-Boys.”
He sculpted eyebrows shoot to her hairline. “What relationship?”
We sit on the stoop of her apartment, and I give her a censored breakdown. Looking for Hope that night and Hawk agreeing to go with me. How that turned into us getting busted and making a deal.
“You made a deal to stay out of jail for rich-kid boarding school?” She shakes her head. “How do I get one of those?”
“It’s harder than you would imagine.”
“How so?” Her expression is genuine.
“It’s hard to explain,” I say, looking at the vandalized walls and the boarded-up windows. The smell of beer and piss linger from the alleys. A homeless guy sleeps under an awning a block down. “The beds are soft and there’s all the food you want to eat. Hot water in the bathrooms, and no one smells like they slept in vomit.”
“You’re not convincing me it’s hard.”
“The kids…they’re vile, evil really. I’ve done things in there that I never would have out here. That I refused to do.”
“To fit in?”
“To survive.”
“But you are surviving, right?” She touches my hair. “You look amazing. Your skin is clear, and you’ve put on weight—like you’re eating three times a day. You also look happy.”
“I am, I guess.” I look down the road where the K-Boys used to hold court, whistling at girls as they walked by, selling stolen merch, or trading drugs. “The K-Boys, they have my back.”
“Hawk broke you down, right?”
“What?” I frown.
“That boy has always loved you. All three of them. Following you around like a puppies.”
My cheeks heat. “I didn’t notice back then.”
“Because all you could think about was your troubles. Your mother and Hope. They took up all your brain power.”
“Yeah, I realize now I may have been a little focused.”
“A little?” She rests her hand on mine. Long acrylic nails filed into sharp points flash in the late morning sun. “You never got the chance to live your life and trust me, Hope was always living hers.”
“She took care of me, Shelby.”
“She took care of herself—she just let you tag along.”
Before everything went down, I would have argued with her. Probably been so mad I’d walk away, but I know better now. Hope is just like the Brats, always looking out for herself.
“Listen,” I say, “I’ve been helping people at that school. People in tight spots. People without a lot of control over their lives. I can help you, too.”
She gives me a look. “I don’t need your help.”
“Do you want to keep working like this forever?”
“This is my job, babe. And I’m good at it.”
“But—”
“No buts, Eden. This is my job. My life. And you may have found a way out of Kingston, but I’m good here. I like my set-up.”
There’s a stubbornness there. A pride belonging to the people of Kingston. People who have no idea there’s another side to life than this struggle. Maybe they do, and they don’t care.
“Give me your phone,” I say. She hands it over and I add my number.
“You call me if you need me. If you want to talk. Gossip, okay?”
“I will.”
She won’t, but that’s okay. If there’s one thing I’ve learned at Sparrowood, it’s that I can’t save everyone.
We hug and say goodbye and I work my way back through the park. Just as I’m about to get back to the lot, I see a flash of dark hair headed toward the alley behind the taco place. It’s Adam. And he’s not alone.
Emma.
I turn, even though I know I’m going to get busted for being away so long. I loop around the other side of the building and see them by the dumpster. I slip into a small alcove, notched out for a back door where I can both see and hear them.
“I want another shot,” Emma says.
“You know that’s not how it works,” Adam says. “Rules are rules.”
“Denise and Trip made the rules. You guys are friends, they’ll listen to you, right?”
“Babe, I can’t help the fact you can’t swallow. Performance is half the score.”
“I just got choked up.”
He laughs. “Literally.”
“You know I’m good for it,” she says. “I’ve done it before.”
“Yeah, well, it was Trip’s night and he’s the one that cut you out of the game.”
She reaches for him by the belt. “I’ll prove it.”
He grips her hand. “As much as I’d love for you to suck me off right now, if I get in trouble one more time, my dad is going to send me off to military school.”
“Then what can I do?”
He thinks for a minute. “You really want back in?”
“Yes.”
He rubs his chin in thought. “There’s one obstacle that Trip can’t seem to take care of back at school.”
“What kind of obstacle?”
I hold my breath, waiting for the answer. I assume it’s going to be me. Instead, I’m shocked at what he says. “Do you know Mr. Miller?”
“Sure. He’s the hottie counselor.”
“Eden and her fuck-boys may do the dirty work, but he’s the one calling the shots.” Adam leans close. “If you help take care of him, I have a feeling Trip will let you back in the game—maybe even crown you the winner.”
25
Eden
I’m quiet on the ride home from the service day. Dorian caught me walking back to the group. No one but him and maybe Hawk seem to have noticed I was gone, but I avert my eyes when Trip glances our way.
“We need to talk,” he says, quietly. He hands me my lunch from the cooler.
“Not here. Not now.”
“You walked off the site, which was exactly what I told you not to do.”
“Mr. Miller,” I say, emphasizing his full name. “I apol
ogize.”
He blinks. It’s been quite a while since I called him Mr. Miller.
I take my lunch and grab a drink from the cooler and head over to sit with the K-Boys and our friends.
Later, on the bus, Theo slides in the seat next to mine. Hawk and Gray spread out on their own seats across from us. They’re both disheveled. Dirty from a long day of labor. Trip, Adam, and Emma sit in the back—out of view. I don’t want to think about them right now.
“Where’d you go off to today?”
“I just got homesick for a minute.”
“Chicken Shack?”
I laugh. “How’d you know?”
He touches my cheek. “I smelled it, too.”
I lean into his side. “I saw my friend Shelby.”
“Ah, Shelby.”
I glance up at him. “Please tell me you never hooked up with her.”
He kisses my temple. “All my money went to drugs, not sex.”
Fair enough. “I tried to get her to let me help her.”
“Of course you did.” His fingers run through my hair. “Is she going to let you?”
“No, she’s happy where she is, I guess.”
“You can’t save everyone, Princess.”
“I know. I’m trying to understand that.” I look up to the front of the bus where the adults are sitting in the front two rows. Dorian’s head is leaning against the window and his eyes are shut, clueless about what’s being planned on other parts of the bus. “It’s just really hard to let go when it’s someone you care about.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, and he throws his around my shoulder. He smells like sweat and the outdoors. “Is it weird that I want to say we’re going home, when we just left it?” I ask.
“Nah,” he says, “But after my grandfather kicked me out, I’ve felt pretty homeless anyway. Then the guys became my foundation, and you’re the walls holding us together.”
“And the roof?”
His eyes flick to Dorian.
The bus ambles along, taking us back to Sparrowood, and I know that soon I’ll have to tell him and the others about Trip’s plan to destroy Dorian, but for now I let the rocking of the bus and Gray’s warm arms provide shelter as I’m lulled to sleep.