by Amo Jones
He drops down on top of me, his lips brushing over the side of my slippery neck. My eyes slowly shut as I turn, taking the sheet with me, and lay into his arms, where I fall asleep.
“MADI!” TATUM WAVES IN FRONT of my face as I close my locker.
“Oh, what?” I ask, locking it and tucking my books under my arm.
“I said, did your dad know about the party when he got home this morning?”
We head down the hallway on our way to English. It’s the only class Tatum and I share together.
“Um, no,” I answer, trying to avoid her eyes. “Truthfully, Dad wouldn’t care. As long as we stay away from his liquor cabinet and my gun cabinet, we’re good.”
“Oh!” Tatum replies, running her hand through her hair. “So how was the rest of your night, anyway? I haven’t seen you since Bishop whisked you off in his car and you avoided my texts all weekend. Did I do something wrong?”
Huh, what? I stop outside our next class. “Why would you have done something wrong?”
A guilty flush flashes over her face and recognition comes to me. “You and Nate.”
“I mean...” she corrects, “we sort of....”
“What?” I whisper-yell, gripping onto her arm and dragging her to a private corner. “You did not.”
She nods, a puppy-like smile on her face. “I did.”
“Tatum....”
Her hand comes to my arm. “It’s okay, Madi. I know who Nate is. I’m not stupid. I wanted to get rid of it, and he was obviously the perfect guy to do it with.”
My eyes narrow. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, T.”
She waves my comment away. “Oh please, I know I’m just another notch on his belt. It’s fine. It’s why I chose him.”
I relax a little, yet not enough to trust what she’s saying. Not that I know anything about good—or halfway decent—first times. We start walking back to class.
“Anyway...” She grins. “...so what happened with you?”
What happened with me? Oh you know, got fucked seven ways from Sunday, and then the said person who did all the fucking left in the middle of the night and I haven’t heard from him since.
“Nothing.”
We walk into class and drop down into two of the back desks.
Lunch bell rings, and I gather up my books, tucking my hair behind my ear as I walk toward the door, when Ally shoulder barges me. “Oops.” Her hand comes up to her mouth, hiding her grin. “So sorry, I thought they took the trash out early today.” She looks to Lauren, and they both laugh, flicking their hair behind their shoulders.
“Wow,” I say flatly. “Didn’t think I could think any lower of you, but it turns out your lack of creativity when it comes to comebacks changed my mind.” Then I turn and leave them with their lips curled and their scowls carved into their faces.
“Hey!” Ally halts me. I stop just short of the door, and Mrs. Robinson stops stacking her paperwork on her desk. “Bishop is mine.”
I laugh. “You can have him.” When I finally leave, I walk out the door and toward my locker. Punching in my code, I slide my books in, obviously in a huff. I shouldn’t let Ally wind me up, but I do. I let her get to me, which isn’t a good sign. It means I’m starting to feel for the people I keep around me. Hello, Bishop.
“Hey.” A voice from behind me stops my deep breathing, but it’s not the voice I want to hear.
“Carter, hey!” I close my locker and start toward the entry to the cafeteria.
He follows closely behind me. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about that kiss.”
And I want to laugh. That kiss had long since been replaced and stolen and then shattered into tiny little shards of nothingness by Bishop.
“We really don’t need to go there,” I assure him, brushing it off as we enter the lunchroom. I’m not deluded. I know how exclusive Bishop is, and I know he doesn’t just sleep with and get with just anyone—well, so I’ve been told—plus, I know I’m nothing special. But being left cold while you’re sleeping is a whole new level of rejection. Asshole.
Thinking about it just makes me mad, and instinctively, I lean into Carter. Not to spite Bishop, because I know he won’t care, but to seek comfort in someone who maybe does want me. No, I couldn’t do that. Squashing my thoughts, I grab a tray.
“So what do you think?” he asks as we get in line.
“About?” I raise an eyebrow, putting an apple and a salad onto my tray.
“About camping. We’re all thinking of hitting the mountains for Halloween.”
“Oh,” I say, suddenly interested. I love camping and the outdoors as much as I enjoy recreational sports. “When?”
He loads up his plate, smiling at me as he tosses a carrot stick into his mouth, his two dimples popping in his cheeks. He’s cute; I could do a lot worse where rebounds are concerned, but at the same time, I don’t want to lead him on, because truthfully, I’m not interested in jumping into anything sexual or even halfway serious with Carter. Bishop was a wake-up call. Our one-night stand set off the alarm in my head.
“Who will be coming?” I continue, coming to the end of the table and taking a bottle of water.
“Pauly and Alias will be coming, with their girls, but you could bring Tatum if you want.”
I take a bite of my apple, my eyes going over his shoulder and landing on Bishop and the rest of the guys that are there, Nate included.
“One problem,” I interject, squirming under the daggers Bishop is aiming at me. “My aggro stepbrother and his pack of hounds? They won’t let me out of their sight.” Please let this go. Please let this go... I chant my prayer, hoping he’ll tell me to forget it.
No such luck.
He shrugs. “It’ll be a party.”
I look over his shoulder again, catching Ally on Bishop’s lap and playing with his hair. But his eyes are still on mine, boring holes into me.
“Good.” I smile sweetly, looking directly at Bishop. “It should be fun.” Two can play this game. I know I have no right to get angry or upset about him and Ally, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting a little seeing her so cozy on his lap—and him doing nothing to move her. But I’m not naïve enough to say we had a connection and that we were deeply into each other now. This isn’t a fairy tale, and that’s just not how things go. At least not for me, anyway.
“So when is it?” I ask, looking back to Carter and letting him lead me to the table where Tatum is sitting.
“Next weekend.” He surprises me by sitting beside us at the table, a couple of his friends who were waiting for him at theirs following suit, scattering themselves around our group.
“What’s next weekend?” Tatum asks, peeling off her yogurt lid.
“Camping!” I answer her cheerfully, knowing full well she’s going to scold me.
She kicks me under the table. “Great! Should be fun.”
I laugh, taking another bite out of my apple, and go back to ignoring Bishop. That is, until Nate comes to our table, leaning down and grinning at me, right before winking at Tatum. “Hey, sis, you need a ride after school?”
I nod happily, wiping my mouth. “Yeah, thanks.” He nods too, a small smile coming onto his mouth, and then he goes to push off the table and walk away. “Wait!” I holler, and he stops, turning back to face me. Nudging my thumb to Carter, I say, “Carter invited us to this camping trip this weekend. You wanna come with?”
“What, you think you can take my new baby sister without me, fucker?” Nate grins at Carter, but the grin isn’t the playful one Nate usually displays. This one is edgy, filled with warning bells and sirens. Nate continues to walk backward. “Of course we’ll be there.” Then he turns and goes back to where he was. Great. I could cut the tension in the air between these two.
I look at Carter, searching his eyes. “Hey,” I prompt, shoving his arm. I can’t be mad at Carter. He’s done nothing but make me feel wanted every time he’s around me. He looks back at me, his frown slowly disappearing. “You okay?”<
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He smiles. “Of course.”
“Is there something I should know between you guys?” I search his eyes, his breath a mere centimeter away from me. If he leaned forward, he could kiss me. Please don’t. I like Carter, but I think I’ve put him in the friend zone without knowing it.
“Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes falling onto my lips.
Oh no. Oh no, oh no.
Standing to my feet quickly, I tell him, “Great!” and pick up my tray.
“You didn’t eat much.” He points down to my food, and I pause, looking back up to Bishop to see Ally sitting beside him now, not on him. Progress, I suppose, but I still hate him. I drag my eyes away from Bishop and smile down at Carter. “Sort of lost my appetite.” Then I take my tray and walk toward the doors, emptying my trash and placing it onto the table.
Tatum runs up behind me. “Hey!” She takes my hand but I pull away from her, picking up my run. I’m not used to being around so many people, or even so many people being interested in me and my life. It’s all starting to overwhelm me, and I’m confused about Bishop and his mind games.
Why would he just leave? Was I not good enough?
Of course you weren’t! You’re a disgusting little girl who likes to do bad things.
My eyes shut as I attempt to push the ugly voice out of my head. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that voice, and I don’t know what triggered hearing it today, but there it is. Opening my eyes, I see the bathrooms and run toward them, ignoring Tatum cursing behind me. My tears partly blind me, and the blue sign that shows it’s the girls’ bathroom looks all distorted and warped. I push through the door and fly into one of the stalls, slamming it closed and sliding the lock over. A second later, the door opens again.
“Madi?” Tatum whispers. “Can you talk to me?”
I’ve begun to like these people. Nate and Tatum, and maybe Hunter, anyway. I’m not sure about the rest of the Kings. Carter, too, he’s not bad. But it’s overwhelming. I’ve never had so many people show they give a fuck so much. I can’t help but think this is all some sort of sick game. Why did Nate and Bishop take me that night? What did they mean when they said games, and why did they stop? Why? So many questions, it’s making my head swim in confusion.
“Madi, talk to me, babe,” Tatum whispers, leaning her head on the other side of the stall. “What happened?”
It’s not Bishop and Ally who even triggered this, or triggered the voice. It’s my own insecurities from my fucked up past. A past I’ve lived with on my own with fears of stressing my father out so close after my mother’s death. But I blurt out Bishop anyway, because that’s the easiest of the two to talk about, and it’s believable.
“I slept with Bishop.”
She sucks in a breath. “Well, I can’t say I’m that surprised. So you’re upset about him and Ally?”
Swallowing and swiping the tears from my cheeks, I lie, “A little.”
I have to open up to someone, and if it’s going to be anyone, it will be Tatum. She and I have hit it off since day one, regardless of our differences. She’s become the yin to my yang, and above all, I trust her. Leaning forward, I flick the lock and the door opens to Tatum’s worried face. She steps inside the small stall, closes the door, and then locks it again. Dropping to her knees, she ignores the filthy ground, which is so unlike Tatum, the clean freak, but it also shows how much of a loyal friend she is.
“She means nothing to Bishop, honey. But I should have warned you about him. He’s never been exclusive to anyone except Khales.” She pauses and then pats my knee. “Don’t get me wrong,” she says with a laugh, “there have been a few others since her, but they’ve all been socialites, dosed in fame. No one has ever come close to bedding him from this school, or even college. And when I say there has been some, I mean, like, two girls that I know of. Well”—she tilts her head—“that the paparazzi have shot him with.”
“Paparazzi?” I question, a little horrified at why a paparazzi would take pictures of him.
“Well, aside from the girls he was with being famous, Bishop’s mom is famous too.”
“Huh,” I huff, swiping away my final tears. “How so?”
She smiles, her lips pulling into her mouth. “Well, his dad is well respected in New York. They own most of the Upper East Side. Real estate market and all that. And his mom is Scarlett Blanc.”
“Scarlett Blanc is his mom?”
Tatum nods. “Yeah. So as you can see....”
I do see. Scarlett Blanc is a very famous actress. “Interesting.” My tears have long since dried.
“Was that all? There’s nothing else causing this?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, nothing else,” I lie, because truthfully, I don’t want her to know I care. I don’t want anyone to know I care about how Bishop had Ally on his lap. That shows weakness, and I’ve never been good at showing vulnerability.
She takes my hand, pulling me up off the toilet seat. “Okay, so this is what we’re going to do.” She swipes the tears off my cheeks. “We’re going to never cry about Bishop Vincent Hayes again. Deal?”
I laugh, nodding. “Deal.”
We walk out of the bathroom, and Tatum turns to face me. “So Tillie wants to meet with us after school. Shall I catch a ride with you?”
I hitch up my books. “Yeah. I just have to head home and face Dad first, but you can come.”
“First time home since you got here?” she asks, an eyebrow quirked. To other people, the absentness of our parents is probably a foreign thing, but with me and Tatum, it’s all we’ve known. It’s a part of the package, whether we like it or not.
“Yeah, not that that’s the issue.”
“What is?” she asks, as we walk down the long corridor.
“Just the fact he told me to keep Nate at arm’s length for God knows what reason.”
Tatum smiles. “The club, that’s why. He would have heard all the stories, no doubt.”
I scoff. “I doubt it. My dad isn’t even from here. He’s from New Orleans, anyway.” I look toward the library longingly. “I’ll see you after school.” Then I power walk toward the library, leaving Tatum behind.
Swinging open the doors, I walk in and head straight toward where the book I picked up was.
“Madison?” the librarian, who I still haven’t caught her name, prompts, standing from her chair. She looks to be around mid-to-late thirties and doesn’t look like your typical cliché librarian. She’s funky, young-looking, and vibrant. No pantyhose and glasses on this one, nope. She has naturally red hair, pale skin, and a light sprinkle of freckles under her bright green eyes. Her skin is something to envy; it looks like silk. I try not to get too envious as I battle down my third zit this week.
“Hi.” I smile at her, clutching my books in my hand. “Sorry, I’m just going back to reading that book.”
She shakes her head. “No need to apologize. But can I ask what your fascination is with that particular book?” She quirks one eyebrow and leans against the desk, crossing her legs in front of herself.
“Honestly?” I scoff. “I couldn’t tell you. No idea.”
She watches me carefully, as if she’s trying to read between my words, and then exhales, her shoulders relaxing. “Go ahead. Just don’t be late to class.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, walking back toward the little corner in the library I was in a couple of days ago. Dumping my books on the table, I start scanning through all the old spines until I find the one I want. Exhaling out a long breath, I slip it out of its slot and walk back to my chair. The sun hits the old leather cover as I run the palm of my hand over it, over the circle emblem with the double infinity inside. What is with this book? Why do I feel so drawn to it, like a magnetic field? Shivers erupt over my spine as I flip it open, picking up where I left off.
2.
The Decision
The sweat trickled over my head as I pushed for what felt like the one-hundredth time. I squeezed my husband’s hand, the hand I
took when we said our vows, the hand I trusted with my life, my child’s life. The hand that would ultimately be the death of me. The hand that would wrap around my neck like the perfect brace, as the eyes, the eyes I looked up to now, admiring, the love and my future, would be the last thing to close the devil’s door in my death.
With all my might, I pushed harder, until I felt as though my pelvic bone was being yanked out of me, until I saw stars exploding in pain behind my shut lids, until my legs were convulsing and sweat drowned my flesh, until the little howl of my baby boy’s cry reverberated around the cold atmosphere. Just as quickly as he arrived into this world, he was taken away. With a wrap of a blanket and a snip of the umbilical cord, my husband took my baby away from me.
My head fell back on my bed as the flames from the open fire pit flicked over my hot skin. Warm, sticky wetness slithered out from between my legs as my eyes began to drop, weaken. I opened them slowly, watching the flames as they flickered under the kettle that hung over it, warming the water. A dark shadow came over the side of my bed as my husband, cradling my son, looked down at me.
“This is the decision, wife. You know what this means for him, what our cause is.”
I struggled to gather words, my mouth closing and opening as my tongue licked my upper mouth, seeking moisture. I nodded, knowing this was what had to happen. I had no say in the matter, and if I did disagree, there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. So I nodded and watched as my husband and his three friends took my newborn son and laid him flat on the blank stone.
His piercing scream rippled through me and tears fell from my eyes. My husband took the small branding iron, laid it over the hot flame, and then walked back to my son. He pressed it onto his little upper arm. The scream turned violent, and my tears rippled through me as my heart broke. My husband wrapped him back up in his little blanket and then brought him back to me, placing him in my arms.