by K. Webster
I flash her my widest, albeit fakest, grin. “I’ll be back.”
“Oh good. And ask your mom about Campfire Chaos. Friday night after the basketball game, everyone heads over to the river. Cal’s dad owns a campground over there and we have permanent access to part of it. As long as we don’t trash it, he lets us use it. It’s really fun,” she promises. “Everyone drinks and roasts hot dogs. In the summer, we swim. In the winter, we cuddle up and stay warm.” Her smile is flirtatious and hinting of ways we could stay warm.
The thought of sharing a tent with Sidney really makes me feel sick.
“I’ll ask.”
“Goodie! Now give me your number so I can fill you in on the details.”
After we exchange numbers, she gives me a hug. The girl is shorter than me and feels right tucked against me. Right in a “just friends” kind of way. It’s selfish of me to want to latch onto her knowing she’s interested in me for other reasons besides friendship. Regardless, I hug her tight anyway, thankful of her kindness, no matter her motives.
We pull apart. She bounces back into the cafeteria, pleased at having gotten what she came after, and heads over to Wendy. I feel an angry stare on me. I’m ready to back out without finding the source of the stare when my eyes lock on his.
Roan.
He sits hunched over his plate of food, eyes on me, as he eats like it’s his last meal. I’m reminded of how a lion looks as he tears into a gazelle he’s just slaughtered.
A chill that has nothing to do with my stomach issues ripples through me and I visibly shudder. One corner of his lips quirks up in satisfaction.
Fuck him.
His eyes seem to glitter with challenge.
I hate backing down to these assholes, but in this moment, I do. The last thing I want to do is puke my guts up in front of the whole school. So, rather than running off with my tail between my legs, I shoot him the bird.
And then I get the hell out of there.
I sit in the driveway, my forehead against the steering wheel for a long time. Probably an hour. Maybe two. When I walk in that house, I’ll have to deal with Charlotte and Penny and Aunt Karen. Today, I don’t have the energy for it.
A coldness settles in my bones the longer I sit without the heater on. There’s snow in the forecast for this evening, but not enough to cancel school tomorrow. Pity. For someone who always loved school, I’ve done a complete one-eighty. This school sucks. I want to blame the Hoodlums for being assholes or Mom for bringing us here or Aunt Karen for not getting a handle on those monsters. But I know better.
It’s Dad who’s to blame.
He ruined our lives.
Hot, angry tears burn at my eyes. I squeeze my lids closed, hating that wetness escapes, streaking down my cheeks. I’m so tired and I’ve only just begun. In minutes, I’ll have to go inside, put on a fake face for my family, and pretend everything is okay.
My stomach clenches violently, reminding me nothing is okay.
Sitting back, I swipe at the stupid tears and swallow down bile in my throat. I should have eaten, but the Hoodlums made that impossible. My stomach churns at the prospect of eating anything at this point.
I climb out of my Mustang and slam the door too hard. It feels good to release a little tension. I’m just walking up to Aunt Karen’s front door when I hear a loud engine echoing down the street. Stopping in my tracks, I whip around to see a familiar Ford Explorer pull up in front of the house.
Shit.
How do they know where I live?
Did they follow me home?
Dread consumes me, making all my bones feel like jelly. I know Sidney said they wouldn’t hurt a girl, but it still worries me considering I have a houseful behind me. Jordy’s dark eyes lock on mine from the driver’s side through the window, but he makes no moves to get out. The passenger door flings open and Roan hops out.
Fuck.
He has a bag slung over his shoulder that’s seen better days. Sweat clings from his hair and his face is slightly red like he’s been running or working out. All I can do is gape. It’s cold as fuck out here and he’s wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt—the hoodie and sweats from earlier long gone. I hate that the motherfucker who’s been nothing but an asshole to me sparks a physiological response in me. My dick twitches as I rake my stare down his muscular form that glistens with sweat. Thank God I have my messenger bag slung across my front hiding my semi.
Our eyes meet and Roan’s flash with gold fire.
Hate. Anger. Bitterness.
Not violence.
I don’t let my guard down, though. If he’s going to try to kick my ass, I’ll be ready.
“Who’s that?” a voice says from behind me. Charlotte.
“Go back inside,” I grind out, glancing at my little sister. “Now.”
“No,” she sasses, her blond ponytail swishing back and forth.
Roan is no longer looking at me as he opens the back door. A girl with brown hair and glasses climbs out. She sort of stumbles, but he steadies her. Confusion washes over me. What the hell is going on around here?
“Roux?” Charlotte exclaims. “Oh my God!”
My sister tears off in a full sprint to go hug the girl about her age. Roan scowls, shooting a glare my way like I’m some accomplice to whatever the hell is going on.
“Char,” I call out.
She grabs Roux’s hand and tugs her toward me. “This is my new best friend Roux. We’re in most of the same classes together. And now she’s here!” Then she frowns. “Why are you here?”
Roux fidgets, her face turning red, and looks down at the dead grass. “I, uh, I—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Charlotte chirps. “Now you can see my room. I have to share with Penny and oh my God she’s such a slob, but we can still hang out. Oh! Do you like birthday cake ice cream? Aunt Karen bought some and it’s so good.”
Roux seems relaxed at my sister’s nonstop rambling. Roan cracks his neck. If I had to guess, he wants to kill me for unknown reasons. What else is new today?
“Why are you here?” I blurt out.
Charlotte scoffs. “Hollis! Don’t be a butthead!”
Roux flinches at my words, which makes me feel like an ass. It sets Roan off, though. He stalks over to me and pokes my chest with his finger. “Watch the tone you take around my sister.”
Charlotte blinks in surprise. Back home, we were well-liked. Popular and revered. She’s never seen such animosity from anyone before. The tension between Roan and me is so thick and cloying you can taste it.
“Ms. Frazier tutors me,” Roux explains softly. “I’m sorry.”
Guilt swells up inside me. “Don’t be sorry, kid,” I say, injecting lightness into my voice for her sake. “I was just confused. Aunt Karen is inside. Go on in.”
The girls hold hands and walk inside. Roan stares after them, an unreadable expression on his face. He turns, waves at Jordy who takes off, and then looks down his nose at me.
“Stay out of my way, rat.”
Roan
I should get great satisfaction each time he flinches at my insults, but it only makes me feel dirty inside. Is this how Dad feels when he asserts dominance over anyone who isn’t him? I hate my dad and don’t want to be anything like him.
But I also don’t like Hollis.
He’s already seen too much of me.
It was one thing for him to see that me and Ms. Frazier have an agreement. It’s a whole other for him to see Roux. Roux is a vulnerability not many are allowed to know about. I protect her at all costs. She has no one but me. Sure, she has Jordy and Cal and Terrence and Ms. Frazier and a couple others, but that’s it. Her father is in prison and her mother’s a fucking addict.
“Close your mouth, rat, or you’ll catch snowflakes.”
The promised snow has just started to fall. Tiny flakes of white dust his features that look as though they’re carved in porcelain—not unlike the dolls Roux used to have when she was little. Guys aren’t supposed to look
so perfect. Perfection isn’t real anyway. It’s unattainable and fucking ridiculous. Still, I can’t look away from his face.
Why not?
My skin heats in an uncomfortable way I don’t understand. All I know is the sight of the snowflakes dusting his long, dark blond lashes and settling on his slightly pink cheeks is one I can’t look away from.
His brows furl together and his blue eyes flash with anger. I’m not like Sidney or Miss Fields. I can see right through his façade. He wants everyone to think he’s as perfect on the inside as he is on the outside.
He’s not and we both know it.
I hoard this secret just like he knows about Roux.
I’ll be damned if I let him use her against me.
“Why are you here, Roan?” he demands, his arms crossing over his chest.
It’s cold as fuck and I’m still dressed for basketball practice. We’re standing outside arguing. I hate this kid.
My eyes skim over his preppy coat in disdain. “I’m here to work.”
“Work?” His probing expression contorts into one of confusion. “Doing what?”
Jesus. Does this family not talk about anything?
“Doesn’t matter. You don’t pay me.” I start for the door when he grabs my still sweaty, but now chilled bicep. His touch sends fire racing through my arm.
“It matters. Tell me.”
I shake off his grip and throw a finger in his face. “You don’t get to order me around, rat. Just because I work here doesn’t mean it involves you. So fuck off.”
His lips press together and I note that they’re full and pink, like a girl’s. I don’t know why the hell I notice his lips, but I add it to the growing list of annoying shit he does. I’ve known this guy for a day and he’s already the most obnoxious person in my life. That’s a lot considering my mom has a revolving door of horrible boyfriends.
Ignoring his poutiness, I hurry into the house to look for Ms. Frazier. I find her already at the kitchen table with Roux with a textbook open. Charlotte, Roux’s new friend she prattled on and on about today on the way here, grins at me.
“I can help too, right, Aunt Karen? I’m good at math like Hollis.” She beams at me. “This is so exciting!”
Roux giggles and it causes tiny cracks to form inside of me. My sister rarely smiles or laughs. The ride home and her incessant talking about a new friend was so out of character for her, Jordy shot several worried glances my way.
“I’m not here to do schoolwork,” I tell the bubbly girl. “I have other work to do.”
Ms. Frazier chuckles. “You could always join us for some math problems.”
“Pass,” I say with a smile as I walk over to the oven to peek in at what’s cooking. “What am I doing today?”
“The attic’s a mess. If you want to make sense of it, that’d be a great help. My sister Kelsey brought in a bunch of boxes when they moved up here over winter break, so everything is just thrown on top of everything else.”
I give a nod and start out of the kitchen.
“You’re still staying for dinner, right?” Ms. Frazier asks.
The thought of having dinner with Hollis makes me see red. But life isn’t about me. It’s about Roux. And Roux getting a home-cooked meal is more important than having to look at some asshole while I eat.
“Duh,” I tease. “We never pass up lasagna night.”
Charlotte squeals with excitement and Roux giggles again.
Needing space from this new situation, I drop my bag by the sofa and then rush up the stairs. I pass by Ms. Frazier’s office and groan when I realize it now has a bed. Hollis lies on top of it face down.
Messenger bag smashed beneath him.
Coat and shoes still on.
The air is thick with despair.
What the fuck does he have to be unhappy about?
A spike of pleasure shoots through me at the thought of me causing the despair. It’s only fair since he’s kind of fucked up my world.
And then I hear it.
A whine.
Pained and sad.
Familiar.
It spooks me because I recognize it as my own. I don’t understand how this kid can have everything and hurt like I do, but I feel it. I can almost taste it. From experience, that shit doesn’t come from one day of dealing with assholes like me.
That sort of pain is slashed into you over time.
Inflicted day after day.
Ongoing mental torture.
I backpedal away from his room and rush to the end of the hall where the attic door string hangs. With a quick yank, I pull down the ladder and make my way up. It’s cold up here, but I know I’ll sweat my ass off by the time I’m done. All the jobs I do for Ms. Frazier are labor-intensive. Basically, I work my ass off in trade for her to tutor Roux two times a week.
Ignoring the chill, I begin with her Christmas boxes that were recently thrown in one corner. Had she called me after Christmas, I would’ve taken it all down, but when school is out, Ms. Frazier doesn’t ask for help. It’s strictly a trade for Roux. Two years ago, Ms. Frazier offered to do it for free, but I hate fucking handouts. We made a bargain that I’d work to pay for it, and it’s been that way ever since.
My mind lingers on Roux as I organize the boxes. She struggles so much with life in general. Mom is a piece of shit who can’t keep food in the pantry. If it weren’t for me forcing her ass to get her food stamps, Roux and I would starve. Her boyfriends are always worthless assholes who keep her laid up in bed, moaning like a whore, with God knows what sort of drugs running through her veins. Frankly, our home life sucks, which is why I’ve always been grateful for these two days a week of normalcy for Roux. We can relax, feel wanted, and eat real food.
A twist of my gut reminds me I’m hungry. Since we get free lunch, one lunch is all we get, though on basketball days, I could eat a helluva lot more than the school dishes out. This afternoon, Coach Rendell ran us hard. Jordy complained like a little bitch. Cal, the energetic bastard, just laughed at us. Terrence was too busy cleaning Sharpie off the vending machines and missed practice, which means he’ll be benched Friday. All that running made me hungry as fuck.
I manage to get the Christmas decorations put away in a better spot and then work on the boxes labeled “Kelsey.” I open one and pull out a picture frame. A pretty woman who looks like Hollis smiles at the camera. Beside her is a man with a serious expression and three kids. Hollis grins like his mother and sister Charlotte. The other little girl is expressionless.
“You came here to snoop?” Hollis demands hotly as he yanks the frame from my hand.
Holy fuck, the guy is a silent creeper. Where the hell did he come from?
“Just cleaning the attic,” I snap back. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Unfortunately, no.” His words are softer this time.
I sneak a peek his way. He’s no longer in his substitute teacher outfit. Wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a black hoodie, he almost looks normal. Under the yellow bulb of the attic, his eyes seem haunted and dark circles are more prominent under them.
“If you’re going to bother me, at least help,” I grumble, hoping to send him on his way. To my surprise, he picks up the box I’d just opened and carries it over to a far wall.
“So you help my aunt? You do work and she tutors Roux?”
“Yep. Got a problem?”
He picks up another box but gets distracted by the label. When he tears it open and sucks in a sharp breath, I can’t help but look his way. I get a brief glimpse of two guys wearing basketball jerseys—Hollis being one of them—smiling into what looks like an almost kiss. He throws the frame back in the box and stomps over to the corner with it.
Okay.
Who was that guy in the picture?
Were they going to kiss?
He continues to move boxes in an almost angry way. As though I’m the one who’s pissed him off. I’m getting tired of his attitude. I was doing just fine without his help. When
he bumps into me, I lose it. Swiveling around, I grab the front of his hoodie and shove him into a stack of boxes.
“What the hell is your problem, rat?” I snarl, my face inches from his.
“Fuck you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He flinches and gapes at me with such a wounded look, I release him. I take a step back and study his hurt features.
“Why are you so fucking pissy?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. “Tell me.”
His eyes roll as he shakes his head. “Seriously? Hmm, let’s see. I was looking forward to my first day of school when some guy I don’t even know is a total dick to me. Then, he tries to break my laptop. Then, he and his friend keep me from eating lunch. Now, this same dickhead is in my home, messing with my shit. Oh, and his sister is friends with mine now too. So not only is he an asshole to me at school, but I also have to deal with him after school. Everything’s fucking peachy, Roan.”
I bristle at the way he says my name. It makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. The nerves in my body electrify. My heart speeds up angrily.
“Are you going to go downstairs and cry to your aunt?” I taunt, overwhelmed with the need to put more cracks in his perfect façade.
Disappointment flashes in his blue eyes that are darker in the attic. “No, man. She has enough shit to deal with than to worry about me.”
His comment worms its way inside of my head.
I’ve developed that mentality. I take the focus off myself and put every ounce into Roux. She’s the one who needs it. What I want doesn’t matter as long as she gets what she needs.
“Hey, boys,” Ms. Frazier calls out. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen. Roan, don’t you dare come to my table smelling like a locker room.”
As soon as she’s gone, I leave him without another word and head for the ladder.
Anytime I’m here, I take a shower after whatever grueling work Ms. Frazier puts me through. This is the first time I feel weird about it.
I hustle down the ladder and practically jump down the rest of the way. Like there’s a fire under my ass, I rush downstairs to grab my bag and then head back up. I’m just making it to the landing when Hollis is pushing the ladder into place in the ceiling. His hoodie lifts and it reveals, pale, toned muscles that pretty boys don’t get from just being pretty. Those are the kind of abs you work your ass off for.