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It was strangely comforting, knowing that I had it with me, though I couldn’t fully pinpoint why. We didn’t know each other well, but I could tell that she… understood me. Or at least, she understood the part of me that cared for the Lost Boys, that was learning my way around this new life. She understood what it was like to not know what the next day was going to bring, if something was going to happen to them when they went out on a job.
Of course, she didn’t know that part of my fear had to do with her husband, and that was something I would never, ever tell her.
Still, I was tempted to call her. She had made the offer so openly and willingly.
If she was Nathaniel’s wife, maybe she would know about Abraham Shaw. Maybe she would have information Flint either never had or never planned to share with me. But did I dare ask her?
The fact that she was Nathaniel’s wife made the very prospect dangerous to consider.
“You always look so pensive. Got a lot on your mind, Van Rensselaer?”
I jumped, almost dropping the books I’d just grabbed from my locker.
Fuck, that scared me.
Trying to calm my rapid pulse, I looked up, grimacing as I saw Eli standing by my locker. The final bell had rung a few minutes ago, and I was getting my things so I could head out to the parking lot and go home. Eli hadn’t approached me since the last time he and the boys had a run-in. I’d hoped that he would keep to the trend, that he’d be smart enough not to start shit at school, but clearly, that was asking for too much.
“What do you want, Eli?” I asked, closing my locker and looking up to him.
“Just wanted to talk to you.” He held his hands up in a mock gesture of peace.
“Well, I’m not available to be talked to,” I said shortly. “I belong to the Lost Boys, remember?”
“You like referring to yourself as property?” He cocked an eyebrow. “As some little trinket they picked up in the gutter? Come on. You’re worth more than that.”
Anger flared.
Fuck this guy.
He might intimidate other people at Slateview, but he didn’t intimidate me. He wasn’t going to intimidate me. And if I had to put up a little bit of an extra front to get that across to this borderline neanderthal, then I would.
“I’m not a piece of property.” I took a step toward him, my lips curling back in something almost like a snarl. “But I do belong to them. Just like they belong to me. And I’m worth more than you’ll ever know, you asshole.”
He smirked down at me, his expression haughty. Like he was somehow above me. I hated the look on his face and the smugness that he seemed to wear like an extra layer of clothes.
“You’re pretty stuck up, considering your dad’s in jail and you’re all set to live the rest of your life like a piece of trailer trash,” he drawled. “Bit full of yourself, don’t you think?”
My face flushed, my hands curling into fists. “What the hell is your problem?”
He stepped a little closer to me, bringing us within a couple feet of each other.
“Maybe you’re all full of yourself because you still think your name matters,” he mused, reaching out to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.
I swatted his hand away from me. “Fuck off.”
He grinned, seeming delighted to have gotten a rise out of me. “Oh-ho! Little Princess swears. Or—what’s it they’re calling you? Coralee? Little Coralee swears. Now, now. What would your father think? Or is he teaching you all the prison lingo, since he’s so well-acquainted with it by now?”
I didn’t mean to do it, but the fury that cracked through me worked faster than the smarter side of my brain did. My hand cocked back and then snapped forward, my fist meeting his face with a force I hadn’t known I possessed. It stung—no, it hurt like a bitch—but the pain radiating up my forearm was worth it to see the red mark blossom below Eli’s right eye.
/> My nostrils flared as I breathed hard, shaking out my hand.
“Don’t you ever—and I mean never—talk about my father like that, ever again,” I snapped. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can go fuck yourself.”
Eli chuckled, brushing his fingers against the place I had punched him. Then, moving just as quickly as I had, he grabbed my shoulders and pressed me up against the locker, pinning me against the cool metal as his body boxed me in. He leaned in over me, his gaze unwavering as he stared me down.
“I think the real problem is that everywhere you go, you think you’re protected,” he said, the cool evenness in his voice taking on an edge that made me stiffen. “Your daddy’s money protected you, and when that fell through, you found a couple of stray boys willing to take you under their wing and protect you. What’s it like, being a whore for all the men in your life?”
Anger bloomed inside me like a fire igniting, and I shoved at his chest, forcing my hands against him.
