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But I take great pains to point to my name. “See, right here my name is on top and your name is on the bottom. Therefore, I get the A and you get the plus.”
Chevy flashes that dimpled smile and my breath catches in my throat. “Is that how it works?”
“Yep. That’s how it works.”
I wait the few beats for Chevy to catch up to me, and when he does, I hold the paper out to him. He takes it and reads through our English teacher’s comments as we continue over the dying winter grass and the new grass struggling to push through.
“Took her long enough to grade it,” he mumbles.
True. “But it took us forever to turn it in. She didn’t have to accept it from us, she didn’t have to let us write it together and she didn’t have to give us an A-plus, but she did.”
Chevy and I landed an A in a class where people are happy to receive a B, all because we told her that the poem was complete bull and that we don’t choose either of the poet’s stinking paths. We decided to forge our own.
It’s April—months away from this past fall’s upheaval. So many people in the Riot have been arrested, including Skull and Justin. Two Reign of Terror members lost their membership to the club for their part in spying on me. Some of the Riot have made bail, some haven’t. All are on the road to prosecution. So many things h
ave gone right, some things have gone wrong. So many hearts have been broken, so many wounds are starting to heal. Overall life is moving forward. Each day away from the arrests brings another day of peace and each day of peace brings another level of confidence that there is such a thing as a future.
The people of the Terror can go back to riding their motorcycles without fear of the Riot and the next generation, including me and Chevy, are free to just be...free.
“Did you hear Eli’s taking Brandon shopping today in Lexington?” I ask. It’s killing me not to text Eli every fifteen minutes for an update. Eli and I have had several long talks about Brandon, and for the first time, Eli is listening.
The plan for today is to get Brandon new pants, since he’s grown another inch, but the real goal is for Brandon to pick out the pants and buy them himself. Of course Eli will be there, but as an observer. Eli understands he has to be Brandon’s advocate, not his enabler.
Chevy and I have both applied for and have received early acceptance to Eastern Kentucky University. We’re both waiting to hear about financial aid and possible scholarships.
Once Chevy threw his hat into the college ring, he had some interest from coaches. Eastern being one of them. They aren’t a college with a huge football program with Saturday games on ESPN, but Chevy isn’t interested in that. He just wants to play.
I’ve got good grades and more than decent test scores. I’ll probably get something in scholarship help, but it won’t be enough. Last week, though, Eli offered to help pay whatever I don’t get in aid and scholarships. I’m probably going to accept because that’s what family does—look out for one another and welcome the help when it’s needed.
Chevy folds the paper in half and sticks it in his back pocket. “How’s your knee?”
“Good.” And it’s not a lie. Every now and then when it rains, it aches, but other than that I’m fully functioning again. Still, this is the first time we’ve walked this far since the kidnapping. The winter was cold and brutal. The snow high. It was gray and it felt endless, but then we’ve been granted glorious days like today.
A warm breeze, a pink evening sky with the first stars starting to twinkle in the east. Another day is ending, the sun falling to its knees and giving way to night. It’s almost easy to believe that every horrible thing that happened to us was a bad dream.
“How do you think tomorrow is going to go?” I ask.
Tomorrow, Isaiah is coming to Snowflake to meet Cyrus and Eli for the first time. They were shocked when Chevy told them about Isaiah and they wanted to meet him immediately, but Isaiah asked for time to process the idea of having blood family who cared.
Isaiah isn’t the only one processing. Cyrus and Eli are trying to wrap their brains around the fact that James was an undercover cop. Chevy dropped that bomb after the arrests, but we’re still keeping that secret contained to blood family. All this new information—a new member of the family, James’s secret life—it’s been a lot, but in the end, it’s good news.
Isaiah and Chevy have met up a few times. Chevy said it’s awkward, but they mostly play pool and talk sports. Sometimes, for guys, that type of conversation is heavy in emotional subtext.
Speaking of emotional subtext. “Did you know that Razor is taking Breanna to prom?”
“I heard.”
My lips twist to the side and I try to push down the little flames of anger licking at my stomach. Prom is extremely close and everyone else I know has a date. That’s not true. Addison doesn’t, but I have hopes for her...a newcomer in the club has taken an interest in her. She just needs to take an interest back.
Point is, Chevy hasn’t asked. I guess it’s assumed, but he should ask because that’s what boys should do. We promised each other months ago we would do normal and so far we’ve excelled at English papers and basement parties and late nights of eating pie at the diner, but I want the normalcy of prom and he needs to freaking ask.
“Oz is going to Emily’s prom and Eli said she could visit the weekend of our prom so we can all hang out.”
“I heard that, too.” Dear God, I’m going to have to hurt him.
“Know what we should do?” he asks.
You should ask me to prom? “What?”
