Revenge at Raleigh High

by Hart, Callie

  This is the first time we’ve been alone since the night I nearly died.

  Propping myself up on my elbow, I close one eye, squinting at him. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

  Max swallows hard, gradually lifting his gaze to look at me. “Are you mad at me?” he whispers.

  This has me sitting upright in no time. “God, no. Why would I be mad at you, bud? Come on. Come here and sit down.”

  My brother comes and perches on the edge of the bed, halfheartedly petting Nipper when he nudges his nose into his hands, looking for a treat. “Well, I was mean to you,” Max whispers. “I called you a bad name.”

  Bitch. He’d called me a bitch at Jamie’s. With everything going on, I completely forgot that even happened. “Dude. It doesn’t matter. We all get frustrated and lash out sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

  He sniffs. “I felt bad about it. Afterwards. At the new house. And then you got hurt, and I thought you were gonna die, and—”

  “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now. And I love you, Maxie. It doesn’t matter. It’s tough being eleven. Sometimes, it feels like the world’s against you and you react badly. I know you didn’t mean it.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course.” He looks so miserable, but when I tell him this, a spark of life seems to return to his dark eyes. Eyes like Dad.

  “Okay. Well. I’m sorry. I won’t ever call you a bad name again. And, um, I know you don’t ruin everything. I was just mad, because Mom moved out and took me to the new house, and I didn’t like it, and—”

  “Shhh, it’s fine. I know.” I pull him further onto the bed, into a tight hug. He sniffles, hiding his face into my hair. “I know everything’s different now that Mom and Dad aren’t together anymore, but it doesn’t really change that much. They both still love you. And so do I. You just get to have two bedrooms now. And double the cool stuff. Dad got you a new PlayStation to keep here, didn’t he?”

  “No. He got an Xbox.”

  “Ahh, you know Dad. He has no idea. We can take it back and exchange it if you like.”

  “No.” Max leans back, smiling a little. “I like having both. I just need to get some new games.”

  “See. Twice the cool stuff. Maybe next week, I can come get you and we can go to the store or something.”

  Max nods. He seems much happier now that he knows I don’t despise him for being difficult. “Mom can’t stop sneezing. She says she’s allergic to the dog. We have to go home in a minute. Are you gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah, bud. I am, I promise. Everything’s A-Okay now.” Lies, lies, and more lies. For Max’s sake, I’ll tell them.

  “Are you gonna go and see Alex tonight?” he asks. “I like him. I didn’t mean to call him stupid.”

  “Uhhhh, I don’t think so. I don’t think Alex and I are gonna be spending much time together from now on.” Man, it’s a miracle that I managed to get that statement out without bursting into tears. I’m quite proud of myself; my voice barely even wobbled.

  Max’s frown takes up half of his face. “But why? Don’t you love him anymore?”

  Oh, god. Come on. This is excruciating. “Yeah. I love him more than anything.”

  “So…he doesn’t love you?”

  My chest pinches, a sharp pain stabbing into my heart. It’s just my ribs, I tell myself. But it’s not. My broken ribs never hurt as much as the idea that Alex doesn’t love me anymore. “I—I guess I don’t know. But he doesn’t seem to want to be around me right now, so…”

  “You should go see him,” Max says firmly. “I think you should find out. And if he says he doesn’t love you anymore, then you’ll know. And you can burn down his trailer.”

  “Shit, Max.” I laugh. “I’m not going to burn down his trailer. That’s crazy.” I’ve thought about it, though. I’ve already struck the match and flicked it into the gasoline doused double-wide more times than I can count over the past ten hours. I shouldn’t have. None of this was his fault. This is all on me.

  I haven’t texted Alex. It felt wrong to make contact somehow, knowing that he was out there, free as a bird within the Raleigh city limits, and he hasn’t made any attempt to come and find me. It’s been three weeks, for crying out loud. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in three long, horrific, painful weeks, and Alex has just gone about his life, probably heading on home when he knows I’ve been in the hospital? Reaching out to him…it’s just felt like the wrong thing to do.

  “Still. If you don’t go and see him, you’ll never know what’s going on, will you?” Max says. “And Mrs. Jensen at school says talking is important. She says talking can solve anything, if you put your mind to it.”

  I sit very still, mulling the words over. My eleven-year-old brother is smarter than his years. I should go talk to Alex before this drags out any further. School doesn’t start up again until after the new year. Am I going to just let this eat away at me for all that time? To ruin the holidays, not knowing what’s going to happen when I walk back through the entrance of Raleigh High and I see him there for the first time since he came careening into the gym with that giant silver gun in his hand? It’s going to hurt if he confirms my worst fears but slumping into a depression over the Christmas break isn’t fair to my family. It will be better to face the inevitable now, rather than put it off.

  I’ve learned my lesson. Finally. From here on out, I am going to face my problems openly, head on. No more hiding, pretending or ignoring. If I’d handled my business like that in the first place, then we likely wouldn’t be in this mess.

  Ruffling Max’s hair, I plant a kiss on his cheek. He tries to squirm away from me, groaning loudly about girl germs, but I get him good. “Thanks, little dude. I needed those words of wisdom. Now quit being smarter than me. I’m supposed to be the clever child. You’re supposed to be the cute one.”

  * * *

  Dad’s hidden the keys to the van. It’s like he knows me. Clearly, he suspected I’d try and pull some kind of stunt in an attempt to make my way over to Salton Ash, and he prepared accordingly. He finds me rummaging in the drawers of the mail stand in the hallway, once Mom and Max have left. “Don’t bother. They’re not there,” he tells me. “The doc said you’re not allowed to drive while you’re on all these meds. You’re not operating a vehicle any time soon, kiddo.”

  I scowl, shoving the drawer closed. “They only say that in case you fall asleep at the wheel or something. I feel fine. Those rules don’t apply.”

  “They definitely do. It’s not just the meds, smart ass. They’re worried about you having another seizure and driving off a fucking cliff.”

  “I haven’t had a seizure in two weeks.”

  Dad leans against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. He’s got that look on his face—the ‘I-ain’t-budging-on-this-one’ face. “Six months. You have your check up, and you get the all-clear. Until then, I’ll happily chauffeur you wherever you wanna go. Within reason,” he adds quickly. “I’m not driving to Bellingham at two in the morning, no matter how many tacos you buy me.”

  “Dad. You are not driving me anywhere. I’ll get Ubers if I need to. You’re being crazy, though. I am fine.”

  The smug bastard smirks. “Sorry, dolcezza. When you run out of funds for Uber, give me a shout. You know where I’ll be.”

  All of the blood drains from my face. “Dad. Do not call me that.”

  “Dolcezza? Why not? I checked up on Moretti and looks like he was telling the truth. It does mean sweetness.”

  “I don’t care what it me—” I let out a very frustrated, very horrified breath. “Just…don’t, Dad. Seriously. It’s not appropriate.”

  “I knew it.” Dad flares his nostrils, throwing his hands up in the air. “I knew that punk was using the Italian language to seduce you.”

  I cringe, hiding behind the curtain of my hair. Well, this is fucking awkward.

  “Don’t worry, Sil. I don’t mind driving you over to Salton Ash. I’m gonna be having a few choice wor
ds of my own with Alessandro Moretti.”

  “No, Dad. God, no. Just…just stay here, all right. I’ll order a car. I swear I won’t try and hot wire the van. I need to see him on my own, okay?”

  The fake annoyance on my father’s face slides away, replaced by something else. Something unreadable. Secret. Mercifully, it isn’t pity. I don’t think I could handle him feeling sorry for me right now. “Okay, sweetheart. But…give him a chance to speak before you lay into him. There’s no point tearing him a new one before you’ve even heard what he’s got to say.”

  I don’t think my father’s ever been more unlike himself than he is in this moment. There’s no name-calling. No yelling, and no threats to dismember the boy who’s broken my heart. He gives me a casual wink and pushes away from the wall, about-facing and heading into the kitchen.

  “Oh, and text me every fifteen minutes to let me know you’re okay,” he calls over his shoulder. “Miss one message, and I will come out and find you. I don’t care how embarrassing it is. You’ve just gotten out of hospital, Silver Parisi.”

  Ah. There’s my old man.

  * * *

  SILVER

  The Uber driver chats incessantly on the way over to the trailer park. He doesn’t seem to remember that one night, nearly nine months ago, in the middle of the night, he picked me up from a beautiful house hidden amongst the trees and drove me to a pharmacy, covered in blood. I remember him, though. I remember the worried look on his face when he told me that he had a daughter my age, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t make sure I got home okay.

  Raleigh has plenty of Uber drivers, and yet I manage to get the same one twice? Fucking small towns. I stay quiet in the back of the car, watching the snow come down in thick flurries that obscure the view out of the window from time to time. I make the appropriate noises whenever he asks me a question, but mostly I’m trapped inside my own thoughts, worrying about what’s going to happen when I finally arrive at my destination and I come face-to-face with Alex.

  The driver gets as close as he can to Alex’s trailer before the snow banks and the iced-up blacktop make it impossible for him to go any further. I get out, mumbling a quiet thank you, and I walk the remaining hundred feet or so down the road, the freezing air prickling at my face and my hands.

  My heart’s pounding as I climb the steps to Alex’s door, sorrow pooling in my chest at the sight of the lights blazing inside the trailer. A part of me had hoped there would be no one here. That maybe something had happened, and Alex was held up in custody longer than Mom thought, filling out paperwork, or…or...I don’t know. It gave me hope, thinking that something might be physically preventing Alex from coming to find me, but it’s pretty damn obvious that he’s just been chilling at home, kicking his feet up with a couple of beers or something.

  I knock, then immediately wish that I hadn’t. I haven’t thought about what I’m going to say. I need more time to think. To figure out what I’m go—

  The door rips open, throwing a pillar of golden light out into the dark and the snow, and my mind goes blank. The guy standing in the doorway isn’t Alex. Not even close. Zander Hawkins grins, arching an eyebrow down at me from inside the trailer. The black ACDC shirt he’s wearing has a small hole in the right sleeve, confirming that it’s one of Alex’s.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t Helen of Troy. The face that launched a thousand ships,” he remarks.

  “Don’t start,” I mutter. “Where’s Alex?”

  “Y’know? Helen of Troy? ’Cause Paris sacrificed everything for her, ’cause she was so beautiful, and everyone went to war because of her. And—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m Helen. Alex is Paris.” I clench my jaw, trying to breathe deep. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. Now, please…tell me where he is.”

  Zander shrugs, shoving a sandwich into his mouth and taking a bite. I didn’t even see that he was holding a sandwich to begin with. “How should I know?” he says, the words muffled around the contents of his mouth.

  “Because you’re in his trailer. And you’re wearing his clothes?”

  He swallows. “Ah, right. But it’s not his trailer anymore, is it. He packed up all his shit and moved out. It’s my trailer now. He gave it to me. And if he didn’t want the box of clothes he left sitting on the counter, then he should have taken them with him. S’all I have to say on the matter.”

  “What?” A loud, high-pitched humming sound fills my head. It’s taking way longer than it should to process what he’s just told me. The only conclusion I can come to is that my ears couldn’t have heard correctly. “I’m sorry. Did you just say…Alex left?”

  “Yeah. He said he wasn’t gonna need this place anymore, and since all of Caleb Weaving’s assets have been frozen and I can’t crash in his pool house anymore, I thought fuck it? Why not? I could use some more permanent digs. So here I am.”

  I’d say Zander is a very unobservant person, but there’s something conniving about him. He’s being purposefully obtuse, and I can’t figure out why. He must be able to see that I am flat-out stunned right now. Maybe he’s trying to protect his friend. He was the one who rushed Nipper to the vet for Alex, when he and Dad came looking for me. He obviously cares a little about Alex. Or, perhaps he just doesn’t want to deal with a crying, wailing girl on his brand-new doorstep, ruining his one-man house warming party. Either way, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to address the fact that, as far as I’m aware, I am still Alex’s girlfriend, and I know nothing about the fact that he’s apparently upped and left town.

  “I’d invite you in for a cup of tea, but I only have whiskey. And I’m not really into sharing whiskey, y’know. On account of it being so delicious,” Zander says airily. He maintains his entertained expression until I take a step backward down the stairs, my throat closing up, my eyes burning, and I cover my mouth with my hands.

  “Oh, Jesus Christ. Look. All I know is that Alex was planning on heading over to see some guy in town called Henry about selling some mechanic’s tools before he took off. He only left an hour ago. If you hurry, you might catch him.”

  Henry? Henry owns the hardware store on the high street. Dad’s rented tools from him before, when he’s only needed to use something once. I had no idea Henry bought used tools, though. Fuck, if Alex is selling all the stuff he uses to work on his bike and the Camaro, then he isn’t just leaving town temporarily. He’s leaving town for good.

  I nearly puke into the snow as I stagger away from the trailer. Zander calls something behind me, but I don’t hear a word he says. Numb from the cold, numb from shock, I stand at the exit of the Salton Ash trailer park, waiting on my second Uber of the night, incapable of forming a thought that doesn’t make me want to burst into tears.

  I get in the car when it arrives, grateful that it’s not the same guy as before. I stare at the back of the headrest, trying to come to terms with what’s happening; it feels like no time at all has passed when the driver stops in front of Harrison’s Home Hardware and Electrical Supplies.

  I’m not in my right mind. It doesn’t even register that the place is in darkness until I’m standing in front of the doors to the store, and I see the ‘closed’ sign in front of me.

  “Fuck.”

  It’s nearly nine o’clock at night. Of course the place is closed. Amidst all of my panic and upset, I didn’t even consider the time. I just came over here, blindly acting without thought.

  He’s gone. I’m too late. Alex has already left Raleigh.

  Blinking back tears, I move to the corner of the street, shivering against the cold, my fingers so stiff that they barely work as I type out a message to Dad.

  Me: Everything’s fine. I’m okay. Coming home now.

  Defeat washes over me as I step to the curb, readying to call one final last ride for the night. The corner of High Street and Paulson is deserted, which isn’t unusual. The fresh snow is keeping people indoors, wrapped up warm in front of their fires. My finger’s
hovering over the ‘Request Ride’ button on my phone’s screen, when I hear the sound behind me.

  The hair on the back of my neck stands to immediate attention.

  Jake…

  It isn’t Jake.

  It isn’t him.

  It can’t be.

  Jake’s on a prison ward, recovering from his gunshot wound.

  Breathe, Silver.

  Breathe…

  Easier said than done, though. I can’t even turn around to see who’s waiting in the shadows behind me; my body is tensed, my shoulders rigid. I’m rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear. And then…

  “Ti stavo aspettando, Argento.”

  Oh…my…god…

  I close my eyes at the sound of that voice. Like rough silk, soft and rough in equal parts, murmuring over the muffled silence of the snowfall.

  “Sembra che stia aspettando da una vita.”

  Slowly, I turn around and see him. He’s leaning against the brick wall around the side of the hardware store, in the exact same spot he waited for me weeks ago, when we kissed and devoured each other under a star-studded night sky, much like tonight’s.

  His sable hair is longer than it was back in the Raleigh High gymnasium. His face is marked with stubble. His eyes, so dark they almost seem black, bore into me with the same intense fascination that they always have.

  I am suddenly unable to breathe for an entirely different reason. Alex pushes away from the wall, approaching me slowly with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  “I take it you didn’t use your free time in hospital to learn any Italian,” he muses softly.

  Dumbfounded, I shake my head from side to side. “I thought…I thought you’d left,” I whisper.

  Alex moves an inch closer, looking me up and down, his eyes sharp, as if he’s looking for something. He’s tense, too. The muscles in his jaw jump, his nostrils flaring. He’s close, only six-feet away, but it feels like an uncrossable divide separates us.