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“Isaiah,” Beth whispers. “Don’t. ”
With only two feet between us, I take another step with every muscle prepared for a fight. “She became mine the moment you laid a hand on her. ”
He closes the gap and we’re standing toe-to-toe. His face inches from mine. Anger pulsates from his body. “She’s not yours. She’s mine and I don’t like how you treat her. ”
A petite arm slides between our bodies.
“Isaiah,” says Beth. “Let it go. ”
“How I treat her?” Is this guy high? “She doesn’t seem to want you. ”
“Ryan, stop, please. ” I’ve never heard Beth plead before and I want to look at her and confirm those words actually fell out of her mouth, but I don’t dare. I keep solid eye contact with the asshole in front of me.
An insane smile tugs at his lips. “You think she wants you? Is that what you think? That you’re some type of real man because you torture her at school? Because you spill her secrets? Because you humiliate her? You think she wants a guy that makes her cry?”
“Isaiah!” yells Beth.
His arm snaps back and so does mine. A large figure surges from my left and instead of the hit I’m prepared to take as I throw, Noah pushes Isaiah into a car. “Back off, bro. ”
“How could you!” I expect to see Beth’s frigid, accusing stare in my direction. Instead, it’s fixed on Isaiah. Her entire body shakes and she rubs her left arm with her right hand. A continuous motion over and over again. “How could you tell him that?”
Isaiah blinks and the anger drains out of him. “Beth…”
She rushes to the Jeep. “Let’s go. ”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I shove the keys in the ignition before I shut the door and roar out of the parking lot. Hitting the freeway, I click on my seat belt as Beth rests her head against the passenger window.
I search for the anger I felt earlier and try to find a way to blame her. She was the one that left. She was the one that spent time with those two guys. But the only thought turning in my brain is the accusation Isaiah spat at me: I make her cry.
Beth
LIVING IS LIKE BEING CHAINED at the bottom of a shallow pond with my eyes open and no air. I can see distorted images of happiness and light, even hear muffled laughter, but everything is out of my reach as I lie in suffocating agony. If death is the opposite of living, then I hope death is like floating.
I’ve never fought with Isaiah and Noah like that. I never thought Isaiah would betray me, but he has. I trusted my best friend with secrets—secrets I’ve never told another living soul. He knows about my father, he knows about my mother, he knows how many times a man has slapped a hand across my face…he knows that Ryan, the way he offers friendship when I know he’s only playing me, hurts.
Resting my forehead against the glass of the passenger-side window, I watch the multiple white lines in the middle of the road speed by. On the two-lane road leading to my uncle’s house, Ryan passes a tractor trailer, easily doing sixty in a forty-five. I sort of wish I had the courage to open the door and fall out.
It would hurt, but then the pain would be over when I died. All the pain. The indescribable ache in my chest, the heaviness in my head, the hard lump in my throat—it would all be gone.
We’ve ridden in silence. I’m not sure if it’s been an uncomfortable silence as I am on the verge of numb. I’m striving for numb. I crave numb. I want to be high.
The Jeep veers to the left and we begin the trip down the long driveway. My stomach growls. We never ate.
When he reaches the house, Ryan places the Jeep in park and immediately turns off the engine. I hate the country. With no lights, the woods and fields become the playground of my nightmares. My skin pricks at the thought of the devil waiting in the darkness to snatch me up and expel me into nothingness.
There are so many things Ryan can do. He can yell. He can go inside and tell Scott everything. The latter would make him the upstanding kid that Scott wants me to be. It would also crush the remains of my life. Scott will send Mom to jail.
And me? I’ll want to die.
Four hours ago, pride would have never let me say the words, but there’s nothing left inside me. “I’m sorry. ”
Frogs croak near the creek that borders Scott’s farm. Ryan says nothing back and I don’t blame him. There really is nothing for him to say to a girl like me.
He examines the keys in his hands. “You played me for a ride into Louisville. ”
“Yes. ” And if my plan had worked, I would be gone, and my uncle would have blamed him.
“You planned to meet with that guy instead of spending time with me. ”
