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The hallway is empty when I step out of the bathroom and the house is quiet, making me wonder if the Porterson brothers left for school. But then Alex steps out of one of the rooms, so there goes that theory.
I quicken my pace, way too tired to get into it with him, but apparently, he’s in the opposite mood.
“Has your pops ever hit you before?” he asks.
I pause and cock a brow at him. “Seriously, are you trying to have a heart-to-heart with me? The guy who dug up all my family’s dirt and plastered it all over the school?”
“Chill out. I was just curious, okay?”
“Well, you know what they say about curiosity.”
“That it killed the cat? Yeah, I don’t think it applies to this situation.” He muses over something. “Well, unless you’re planning on killing me.”
“That’s actually wasn’t what I was going to say, but it does sound a bit appealing,” I throw a smirk at him and he retaliates with an eye roll. “What I was going to say is being too curious and putting your nose in my business means a kick in the balls.” I smile sweetly at him. “I’m sure Blaise can give you all the details about how good of a ball kicker I am.”
He grins snidely. “Actually, he said you kick like a kitten.”
“Guess you won’t mind if I do it then.” I start to lift my foot, not to kick him in the balls. Just to scare him and am rewarded when he flinches.
Grinning, I step toward the bedroom again.
“You don’t scare me, Hadley,” he says.
“Then why’d you flinch?”
“I didn’t flinch. I had an itch in my eye.”
I give him anokaygesture to which he responds with another eye roll.
“Whatever.” He turns to leave.
Wait. Did he seriously just back down from an argument?
“For the record,” he says as he walks away, “I wasn’t asking you about your dad so I could tell the whole school. I was just asking to see if you were okay.” He leaves it at that, ducking into one of the rooms.
I stand in the hallway, confused as a mofo.
He wanted to see if I was okay? Alex Porterson, the guy who slit my tires and spread those flyers all over school?
“He’s up to something,” I mutter as I wander into Blaise’s bedroom. The question is: what?
I wish I knew. Wish I had time to try to come up with an answer. I have way more important things to worry about right now. Starting with getting ahold of my sisters.
Picking up my phone, I send a group text.
Me: Hey! Just wanted to check in on you guys again and see if by chance you can message me yet?
After a minute ticks by and no repliespingthrough, I grab a pair of torn black jeans, a black tank top with a skeleton on it, and some clean underwear. Then I lock myself in the bathroom and turn on the shower. Steam fills up the room as I strip my clothes off and pull my hair into a messy bun to keep it dry, knowing I won’t have time to blow dry and still be on time for school.
As I move to pull back the shower curtain to get in, I catch sight of my reflection again and freeze. Images of last night rush back to me, louder than the water pouring out of the showerhead.
How my dad hit me.
Grabbed my hair.
Yelled at me.
Hurt me.
