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“What happened? Did you call in a tip, or did they pick you up?”
I watch his face with narrowed eyes, waiting for a sign. But I don’t need to be sharp to see it—it’s obvious. “They picked you up. What did you do?”
“I was smoking a blunt in my car. ”
“Where, on campus?”
“In the Hy-Vee parking lot. ”
“You’re kidding me. ”
He shakes his head.
“You got picked up for smoking dope in your car at a grocery store? How stupid are you?”
Now he won’t look at me.
“So they asked you who sold you the pot, and you gave them West’s name. Even though it was a lie. ”
“I didn’t have a choice. ”
“You had a choice. You just chose what was easy. Why not pin it on West? Nate hates him, anyway. It’s not like West is your friend. He’s just a dealer. He’s expendable. He’s nobody. It’s not like anybody loves him or anyone will care when he’s kicked out of school, right? He’s not as important as you. No one is as important as you. ”
And the longer I’m talking, the angrier I’m getting. Not even at Josh. At Nate.
I was never really human to him. Never fully a person. If I had been, he wouldn’t have treated me the way he did—not while we were going out, not in August, not now.
He’s behind this. I don’t care if it’s Josh who turned West in—it’s Nate who made it possible. Nate who convinced all our friends, Josh among them, that I was a psycho bitch. Nate who treated me like shit, hurt me, and assaulted me, and Nate who got away with it.
I’ve spent so many months not being angry with him.
Why the fuck have I not been angry?
“Where’s Nate?”
“I don’t know. Sleeping?”
“Is he home?”
“Huh?”
“Did he go home to Ankeny for break yet? Or is he still here?”
“He went home. ”
“Thank you. ”
I jog down the steps, leaving Josh there for … whatever. For the crows to pick at. For April’s rains to wash away.
I don’t give a shit. I’ve finally got force and velocity, a direction to point in, and as soon as I hit the sidewalk, I start to fly.
Author: Robin York
By the time I get to Ankeny, it’s nearly eight, and the highway is clogged with people on their way to work. The traffic in Nate’s neighborhood is all headed in the opposite direction from me, so I already feel like I’m breaking rules when I park in his driveway. Even more so when his mom comes to the door.
His mom is so nice. She was always great to me. She seems not to know what to do with the fact that I’m standing on her doorstep, which I can understand. I used to be allowed to come in without knocking. I practically lived here senior year.
Now I’m dangerous—to her son, to her peace. She knows it. I can tell.
