A mutual enemy.
That is a power not to be underestimated.
However, I’ve learned my lesson. Favors aren’t free. You always have to give something in return. If you don’t decide for yourself what to offer, they’ll make that decision for you.
You don’t want that. You never want that.
“I want to make it up to you,” I say quietly. “I can tutor you. Help you get your diploma, too. It's the least I can do."
Mason raises an eyebrow. “You really think I'm going back to school?”
“You should. What else are you gonna do? Join another MC?”
“You don’t understand what exile is, do ya? I’m barred, Reagan.”
“Another reason to get out of here then. For that to happen, school gives you options.”
“I ain’t that smart, and I need a job to put food on the table. I’m fucking eighteen now. My aunt went home to her kids right after my birthday. Brother still in the army. Club ain’t helping anymore. No one is. I’m lucky I got that gig fixing cars at Bishop’s. Can’t lose it.”
“You’re smart, Mason. Smarter than you give yourself credit for. No one says you can’t finish high school and keep your job at the same time. With my help, you can do both. Wasn’t graduating your mother’s wish?”
Sadness touches his face. “Yeah.”
“You’re a junior, like me, right?”
“Ain’t fun at eighteen, ya know?”
“Well, if you let me tutor you, I promise you no more flunking. You’ll graduate with me. Then you can do whatever you want. Stay at Bishop’s, leave Jacksonville, go to fucking college, who knows?”
“College,” he scoffs.
At least, he doesn’t reject the whole idea like Shane. Mason contemplates it. “The sky is the limit. The point is, you get to choose.”
“That oughta be nice.”
I meet his eyes. “So what do you say, two years, graduation, together?”
He studies me for a while. “Only if you promise never to try that shit again,” he glances at my wrists one more time, “and to get outta here the second you hold that diploma.”
“Trust me. I can’t wait.”
“Alright.” He stretches out his hand. “Deal.”
“Deal.”
CHAPTER 33
Reagan
“Happy sweet sixteen to me,” I mutter, staring at my reflection in Mason’s bathroom mirror. I lift my shirt. There’s a bruise blooming on my torso, purple and yellow at the edges. A gift from my mother this morning when I made the mistake of being visible at breakfast.
Birthdays. The one day of the year guaranteed to be worse than all the others.
Mason knocks on the door. “You okay in there?”
I pull my shirt down fast. “Yeah.” I splash cold water on my face and come out. He’s set up our algebra books on his kitchen table. We have a test on Thursday. “Ready to factor some polynomials?”
“Ugh. Those again.”
