by Callie Hart
…and it’s fucking amazing.
We’re flying, the bike rumbling between my legs, and I finally get it: this is what freedom feels like.
I release my death grip, throwing my hands up into the air, whooping as we reach a straight, flat stretch of road and Alex opens up the throttle. By the time we arrive at school gates fifteen minutes later, I’m enjoying myself so much that I want to tell him to just keep on driving.
The colors and sounds of the parking lot are heightened as I jump off the back of the bike, pleased that I somehow made it look as though I’ve performed the maneuver a thousand times before. The old Silver would have panicked when she pulled off the helmet, irritated that her hair had been ruined and was sticking up all over the place, but now I don’t give a shit. I don’t even attempt to tame it as I thump Alex in the arm, beaming from ear to ear.
“Oh, man, you are so screwed. You have to teach me how to ride one of these things.”
When he takes off his helmet, the guard that Alex always wears around Raleigh is firmly in place, but I can see how pleased he is from the small smile that tics at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid,” he tells me, his face perfectly serious. “I can’t have a girlfriend who’s cooler than me. Not my style.”
“I’ve always been cooler than you, Moretti.”
Alex reaches out, taking a piece of flyaway hair and tucking it behind my ear. His hand cups the side of my face, and I lean into his touch. I feel so damn light. Like I could lift up off the ground and just…float away. “I think you may be right,” he says under his breath.
“What the fuck is this?”
The sour, angry note to the voice at my right brings me crashing back down to earth. It’s Zen. And behind her, Kacey…
Both of them are wearing their cheerleading skirts, white socks pulled up to their knees, and matching expressions of disbelief. “Alex?” Zen says sharply. “I thought after the other night, you and I might be spending some time together.” She sounds reproving, like she’s telling him off. Alex looks to me, eyebrows raised, like I might be able to explain why the fuck she’s speaking to him like that.
“Don’t look at me,” I say, laughing quietly. “This one’s all you.”
“Was I even speaking to you, slut?” Zen sneers.
In a heartbeat, Alex's back is straight, shoulders drawn back, anger flashing like liquid mercury in his eyes. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he growls. “Call her that again, and we're gonna have issues.”
Zen’s mouth falls open. She looks stung. Hurt, even. “But…I’m sorry. I don’t get it.” She screws her eyes closed, shaking her head, curls bouncing. “Silver’s scum, Alex. She’s a fucking nobody. Everyone at this school knows she’s poison. You can’t seriously want her over me.”
“I’d take just about anybody over you, but that’s beside the point. Silver’s fucking magnificent. She has more brain cells in her little finger than you spiteful, nasty little cunts have to squabble over between you. The fact that she’d even look at me twice makes me the luckiest bastard in the world. Now kindly fuck off. We’re bored of looking at your average, ordinary faces.”
Holy fucking shit. Alex can’t know much about Kacey and the girls I used to call friends, but he couldn’t have thrown a better insult if he’d tried. Average? Ordinary? Fuck me. Kacey’s spent every waking moment of her life doing everything in her considerable power to make sure everyone around her sees just how extraordinary she is. She glowers at Alex over Zen’s shoulder, her fury twisting her features into a mask of hatred.
“You really shouldn’t have said that, Alessandro. You’re a lowly piece of trash we decided to pick up off the side of the road out of the goodness of our hearts. Most guys at Raleigh would have ripped their own right arm out of the socket to be given a front row seat at that show we put on for you. You do not reject us.”
“Funny. I seem to recall rejecting you over…and over…and over…”
Kacey grabs Zen by the arm, digging her fingernails into her skin. She looks like she’s about to go nuclear. “You have no right to insult my friend.”
Alex’s expression is blank, untroubled, as he steps forward and leans down, shoving his face into Kacey’s. His voice is frighteningly calm as he says, “The insult was for the both of you. That’s a nice act though, playing the good little friend. I’ve heard all about how you really stand up for the people around you. I thought you were more of a leave-’em-broken-and-bleeding-in-the-gutter-after-the-boy-you-like-raped-’em kinda girl.”
Oh no. Oh no, no, no. I don’t want this. I won’t be able to handle this if he says one more thing about…
“I mean, what kind of lowlife does that?” he snarls. “Who’s jealous of a girl for being assaulted, for fuck’s sake? There must be something seriously wrong in that coked-out brain of yours, Winters. I almost feel sorry for you. I can only imagine the therapy bill…”
“You’re dead,” Kacey snaps. “Fucking dead. Jacob’s going to fucking murder you when he finds out what you just said to me.”
Alex tuts under his breath. “You think I haven’t dealt with worse than you and Jacob Weaving, little girl? You people may have money. Your parents might be stuck up assholes who think they’re too good for the rest of this town, but do you honestly think you can beat me down with an empty threat? Jake isn’t gonna do shit to me. He’s going to end his campaign against Silver. He’s going to give her a wide berth if he knows what’s good for him. And while Silver’s deciding if she wants to change her mind and have me permanently disfigure him for what he did to her, you psychos are going to avert your eyes any time either one of us walks by you in the hallway. Do…you…hear…me?”
Kacey blinks rapidly, shrinking back on herself. To be fair, she doesn't look away, but the set jaw and her defiant sneer aren't fooling anyone, least of all me. He's obviously scared her. It's a miracle that I'm even capable of such emotion, but…I feel sorry for her. Students have gathered around in fives and sixes, all watching the exchange, and no one has come to her aid. Some of my classmates are even laughing behind their hands, whispering to one another with smiles in their eyes.
This is what it’s like, Kacey. This is what humiliation feels like. Stings, doesn’t it?
Zen’s the one who pulls Kacey away. She spits and curses, shoving me out of the way, dragging Kace behind her. Kacey yells back at us, though, ever the one to get the last word in.
“You wouldn’t have dared to speak to me like in front of Jake. He’ll hear about this! You’re through! You’re gonna be locked up before nightfall, motherfucker!”
Jake hears about it all right. Sheriff Hainsworth shows up at Raleigh just before lunch, along with a tall guy in a tailored suit, who climbs out of a flashy Maserati and storms toward Principle Darhower’s office wearing a face like thunder. Not long after that, I’m called to Darhower’s office myself. In a sour mood, Karen barks at me, ordering me to sit down and wait outside to be called.
When the door to Darhower’s office opens, Jake emerges first, looking like the smug piece of shit that he is, followed by Kacey. Her face is splotchy and red, her mascara smudged, and I know for a fact it was smeared with her fingertip in the girls’ bathrooms before she went in to put on her performance. She flips me off as she sails past, pretending to sniffle into Jake’s shoulder.
“Ms. Parisi. Inside, please,” Darhower calls. Jake’s father’s still in with him, leaning against a bookcase filled with encyclopedias, looking like he owns the damn place. Sheriff Hainsworth’s standing at the window with his back to the room. Alex is nowhere to be seen. “Sit,” Principle Darhower orders. I do so, dread spiking in my veins. “Some very grave accusations have been made against yourself and another student, Silver. It’s my duty to investigate the legitimacy of these accusations and act accordingly, based on their veracity. Is there anything you’d like to tell me about what happened this morning?”
“Really? This is actually, really happening?” I laugh, unable to stop my
self in time.
“Young lady, you will take this seriously or lose the right to give your version of events at all,” Mr. Weaving snaps.
“Actually…no. That’s not…we can’t do that, Caleb,” Principle Darhower says wearily. “There are protocols in place for this type of thing. They have to be observed. Silver, just get on with it and tell us what happened. We all have things to be getting on with here.”
“Okay. I arrived at school with Alex—”
“That’s Alessandro Moretti, correct?” Sheriff Hainsworth asks stiffly. He doesn’t turn around.
“Yes.”
He grunts, and I feel like, in confirming Alex’s name I’ve basically just signed some sort of confession of guilt. “Continue,” Principle Darhower urges.
I give him a run-down of everything that happened, bar any mention that was made about my assault. With Jake’s father in the room, seems like a prudent plan. It takes all of five seconds to recount the petty spat that took place in the parking lot. When I’m done, Principle Darhower bridges his hands in front of him, frowning deeply. “So, there were no threats of physical violence made by Alex? Toward Kacey?”
“I’m sorry? What?”
“Ms. Winters is claiming that Alex Moretti pulled a knife from his bag and brandished it in her face. She said he told her he was going to slit her throat from ear to ear if she didn’t leave you alone.”
What the hell did he just say? I heard the words, but he could not have just said that. “That is a flat-out lie, Principal Darhower. Alex did tell Kacey to leave me alone, but he didn’t have a knife. He sure as hell didn’t stick it in her face.”
“Jim, Kacey's been dating Jake all summer. She was at my house, with my family every single day for weeks. I know that girl, and she's sweet, kind, and thoughtful. I'm telling you. She wouldn't lie about something like this.”
I burst out laughing, even as Principle Darhower rolls his eyes at Caleb Weaving’s preposterous statement. “Caleb, come on now. We all know that’s not true. Kacey’s been known to spin a yarn in the past if it’s helped get out of hot water. She’s no saint.”
“What about everything else she said?” Caleb hisses. “That Alex Moretti punk threatened my son, too.”
Principle Darhower ignores Mr. Weaving, but still—tiredly—gives him what he wants. “Kacey claims Alex threatened to hurt Jacob, Silver. She said he swore he and his biker friends were going to jump him and break every single one of his ribs.”
Oh…my…god. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. “Alex said nothing of the sort. This is all just…fuck, it’s a complete fabrication!”
Darhower rocks back into his chair. Caleb Weaving stabs a finger in my direction. “See! Listen to the language on her. You’re going to believe this little upstart over my son and his girlfriend?”
I have had enough of this bullshit to last me a lifetime. I narrow my eyes, digging my fingernails into my palms. “Why is he even here right now? Shouldn’t my dad be present if I’m being accused of something?”
“I fund this entire school, young lady. I own this building down to its crumbling foundations! Don’t you dare presume to—”
I ignore the bastard, looking Darhower square in the eye. “Alex did not have a knife. He did not threaten to hurt Jake, either. I mean, what would he possibly have to gain?”
Revenge.
Justice.
Satisfaction.
“Jake already told me this kid wants his spot on the team, Jim. He’s already tried to hurt him during practice. Poor sportsmanship. Late hits. Whispering all kinds of foul nonsense in his ears. I don’t like it. I want that boy gone.”
“There was no knife on him when we searched him,” Sheriff Hainsworth interjects. “And his story matches up with the girl’s. Can I get the hell out of here now? This is not a police matter.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Mr. Weaving snarls. “This most definitely is a police matter. That little shit’s broken the rules of his probation.”
“By telling a prissy little rich girl that she’s a prissy little rich girl?” He clucks his tongue disapprovingly as he shoves past Mr. Weaving, headed for the door. “Fortunately, callin’ a spade a spade ain’t illegal in the fine State of Washington just yet. If he sets something on fire or actually starts stabbing people, then you give me a call. In the meantime, I’m gonna release him and let him get back to class. I’m sure you two gents can handle an argument between two teenagers without me holding your hands.”
I watch him go, horrified. “Release him? What did he mean, release him?”
Principle Darhower rubs at the lenses of his glasses, clearly very over this meeting. “Sheriff Hainsworth detained Alex in the back of his squad car. Just for a moment, while we talked in here.”
“He arrested him?”
“Detained,” Darhower repeats. “Now. Since no weapon was found on Moretti and it's just his and your word against Kacey and Zen's, I'm afraid measures must be taken if all of you are to remain at Raleigh. You and Kacey used to be thick as thieves, Silver. Obviously, something happened to cause a rift between the two of you. You're both going to have to attend joint counseling sessions with Ms. Landry, twice a week to iron out your differences. No, don't even bother, Silver. This is non-negotiable.”
“And the deadbeat on the motorcycle?” Mr. Weaving demands. “You have to suspend him, preferably for the rest of the semester. He has to learn a lesson, Jim! His type needs a firm hand to rein them in and show them who’s boss.”
“No way! That’s weeks’ worth of work. If you do that, there’s no way he’ll be able to catch up. He’ll have to re-sit the entire year!”
Darhower slams his open palm down on his desk. The loud burst of sound nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “Alessandro Moretti is not being suspended. His attendance has been good, and his grades, despite the motorcycle, have been exemplary. Jesus, why the hell is everyone so bent out of shape about the kid’s goddamn mode of transportation.”
“He cannot be allowed to play on the team,” Mr. Weaving says, voice rising with his anger. “That, I simply will not allow. Jake's worked too hard and too long to have his dreams of playing for state crushed because of some orphaned, violent thug with an ax to grind. Do not test me on this, Jim. Believe me, I will make things very difficult—”
“When don’t you make things difficult,” Darhower mutters under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“I said fine, Caleb. Have it your way. Alex is banned from playing on the team for the rest of the year until graduation. He can play basketball or something else instead for all I damn well care. Now that’s an end to it. Silver, back to class. Caleb, honestly, it’s been a pleasure as always.”
Alex’s fumes like a smoking volcano as he burns across the lot, threatening to blow any second. Two identical red rings cuff his wrists, the skin broken and stained with dried blood. I have to jog to keep up with him, dodging around all of the other students pouring out of the building, heading toward their cars.
“He told me to ‘take the rest of the day off,’” he growls, fishing in his pockets for his keys. “Like I’d earned myself a little break or something. I swear, I want to fucking murder Jake Weaving right now, Argento. Him and his arrogant son of a bitch father.”
“Alex. Alex, it’s okay. You’re not gonna lose the credit. It’s still early enough to get you on another team, okay? Darhower said so himself. Hey. Hey, look at me.” I have to step up onto the low brick wall next to the bike so I’m the same height as him; taking his face in my hands, I hold him in place until he has no choice but to stop prowling up and down like a lion with a sore head and has to stand still.
“I warned you hanging out with me would have consequences,” I say softly. “You can take this all back, y’know. Me and you. If they fuck with you again and do something to ruin your chances of getting custody of Ben, I’ll never forgive myself.”
He meets my gaze with a fierce, unrelenting fire in his
eyes. “You think I'll give you up because some dumb assholes wanna make life hard for us? No fucking way, Silver.”
Guilt nips at me, biting at my conscience. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Fuck, I’m sorry you had to deal with any of that. Hainsworth definitely shouldn’t have thrown you in cuffs over some stupid high school argument.”
“He could have done worse,” Alex says, tensing as he looks over my shoulder at something behind me. From the way his eyes are flashing, I’m willing to put money on it being Jake and Kasey burning out of the lot in her matte black G-Wagon. “Hainsworth’s patience with me is generally stretched pretty thin,” he says. “He could have thrown my ass in a cell, no questions asked. I’m sure Jake knew that. Things could have been much, much worse.”
“My parents think I have cheerleading practice. You wanna go somewhere for a couple of hours? Cool down?”
The creases on Alex’s forehead remain, but the agitation in his eyes dims a little. “Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”
“Yes, actually. I’ve seen where you live, Alex, but I still haven’t seen where you work. I want you to take me to the Rock.”
“Uhh...I don’t know, Argento. The Rock isn't exactly an ideal spot for date night. It's… There's…” He's grasping at words, clearly trying to find a way to explain that his workplace is a den of iniquity worthy of biblical renown.
“I’ve lived here my whole life, Alex. I hear plenty of things. I know what the Rock is. I’ve always been curious about what goes on behind those heavy wooden doors, and now I have a handsome boyfriend who works there to sneak me in unnoticed. Come on, don’t you think it’ll be fun?”
Alex considers. He stares off into the dark forest that borders the Raleigh High parking lot. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He’s going to say no. He’s—
“All right. But just because it’s the middle of the afternoon, doesn’t mean anything at the Rock. It’s a shit fight no matter what time of day it is. If you’re ready for some incredibly loud music and lots of drunk people, and you’re okay with the fact that you’re gonna come face to face with a fuck load of strippers…then sure. I’ll take you.”