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“You’re wrong,” I call out as Abby has turned her back on me to slip into the crowd.
She pivots to face me again, but still walks backwards. “That never happens, but to placate you, how was I wrong?”
“It was my brilliant plan to sneak out the windows in kindergarten and then sneak back in. I’m the one with the massive IQ, remember?”
That devilish glint reappears in her eyes along with her heart-stopping smile. “I only let you think it was your plan, but it was really mine. And on the IQ? I’ll put my test scores up to yours any day and I’ll win.”
A smile stretches across my face and Abby winks before disappearing. And the game continues. We both moved pieces and neither of us is any closer to winning, but I’m not sure what’s at stake to be won.
Abby’s a drug dealer.
I’m a ticking time bomb.
Neither Abby nor I are reliable or stable. We’re like a tidal wave of gasoline approaching a nuclear power plant, but we still like to play with matches.
Doesn’t make sense. I guess it doesn’t need to. I work well in the undefined.
I pull out my cell, ignore the text from Dad and scroll through the trail of messages between me and Sly. He’s an ex-boyfriend of Mom’s. He was around before either of us learned not to get attached. Sly was a hard lesson for me and I was an even harder lesson for him.
Me: I’ve heard the band. I want in.
Sly: I’ll get you ten minutes with them this week. Don’t fuck it up.
Me: Won’t.
Sly: You’re good with the traveling?
I scan the bar. Isaiah and West are playing pool on the other side of the room. When Isaiah catches my eye he jerks his chin for me to join them. I tip my head to let him know I’ll be there soon. Another sweep of the room and I spot Abby dancing with Rachel again. They’re holding hands, twirling together, and laughing.
Like Ryan and Chris, Isaiah and West also graduated this spring. Moving forward. Moving on. Rachel’s still in school, transferring this year to my new school in fact. We’re friends, but not close friends.
All I’ve got left in this life is Abby and nobody knows Abby. She doesn’t belong enough to anyone for her to have friends. Just the way all mythical creatures should live.
Me: Yeah, I’m good on the traveling. I’m good with starting a new life.
Abby
“I’m going to kiss him tonight.” From the back of the club, I point at the hot guy playing electric guitar onstage. He has gorgeous red hair that’s a little longer than most guys wear it and a body made for sin.
Sitting beside me, my best friend, Rachel, squints through the haze of dry ice and dancing beams of light, and when she spots my prey, her mouth pops open. Rachel’s the anti-me with her blond hair and blue eyes and this is her first time at a club. I’m dark hair and hazel eyes and continuously walk the line of selling my soul.
It’s Sunday and we’re at one of those teen nights for the local bar. This for her is wild. This for me is tame. But kissing the guy who obviously can play a guitar in a way that causes me to blush can make this evening worthwhile.
“It’s either that or kissing Logan,” I say over the pounding beat of the drums and she laughs. She thinks I’m kidding, but I’m not. Talk about another guy built for sin, but I’ve been warned off of him by several friends of ours that I respect. Logan’s my type of crazy, but he’s also the type I can easily mess up in the wrong ways.
I’m not interested in jacking up anyone’s life other than my own. At least not the lives of the people I care about. Anyone else is fair game.
Rachel brushes away the strands of hair sticking to her face. We’ve danced tonight, her and I. Not much, but enough that it’s worn Rachel out. An accident a few months back killed her stamina, and for a time her ability to walk, but she’s on her feet again and loved the idea of dancing and I love her enough to make her happy.
Rachel, Logan and I will start our senior year of high school this fall and thanks to Logan’s IQ and having divorced parents, he’s now attending school with Rachel and me. We only have a few weeks left until life becomes completely complicated and chaotic.
Isaiah, Logan, and Rachel’s older brother, West, left a few minutes ago to bring Isaiah’s car around and they’re taking too long. I was banking on them leaving by eleven-thirty, but West tagging along with us bought Rachel another half hour of time. Her damn older brother doing some damn interfering. She needs to leave because I have an appointment, and I don’t like mixing my friends with clients.
Ricky told me not to sell, but he didn’t tell me I couldn’t hold an interview.
“Stay the night with me.” Rachel rests her water bottle on the seat beside her. “We’ll pick up tacos and maybe some queso on the way home.”
My eyes snap to hers at the mention of queso, and I hate that my stomach rumbles. “I can’t.”
