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“Coffee first,” Milo adds. “You know I don’t drink that swill at the game.” We head toward the elevator at the end of the hall.
“Fine, we’ll get coffee first, but that means we’re grabbing food in town, too. My backpack is in my car. We can smuggle in Badger’s instead of the shitty hotdogs at the concession stand.”
“Badgers?” I cannot suppress the look of disgust on my face at the idea of eating a badger.
Landon and Milo exchange a glance and burst into laughter that echoes through the empty hallway.
“Badger’s Burgers,” Milo explains. “It’s our favorite spot to get a quick meal. I forget you haven’t seen much of the town. Maybe after the game, or tomorrow, we can give you a proper tour. The best coffee shop is the Painted Moose. There are a couple other places, but that one has the best caramel mocha.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, and pull the elevator gate shut before mashing the down button. Even though they had to drag me out, I’m actually excited about the prospect of going into town for food and to watch the football game.
It’s precisely this kind of normalcy that I always longed for. Growing up in LA, much less being a teenage runaway on the streets, makes it easy to believe that these sorts of things only exist in sitcoms.
And yet here I am, living a piece of Americana in jeans and a borrowed football jersey, planning to spend my Saturday afternoon like any other eighteen-year-old girl in college: surrounded by friends and classmates, eating junk food, and cheering for our school team.
When we climb into Landon’s white SUV, Milo allows me to take the front seat. The scars on my arms itch to remind me of how I ended up here, and I rub them absentmindedly through my shirt. I think about the change of my fortune that attack wrought, what I went through and how I landed here. Given the choice of staying on the street or what happened to me, I know without any doubt I’d take the pain and physical therapy again if it meant I ended up here after all was said and done.
It was absolutely worth it.
ChapterEleven
Layla
* * *
We visit the Painted Moose first, which is a cute little rustic cabin-themed coffee shop with wildly colored moose outlines hung from the walls. Landon put in our order to Badger’s, so our burgers and fries are ready to go when we arrive. Smuggled safely inside Landon’s backpack, our meal made it to the stands where we enjoy our food without interruption. We got a magnificent spot, or so Landon assures me.
“You don’t want to be too close to the band. It gets really loud. And you don’t want to be in the seats closest to the field because people walk past there all the time and interrupt the view, but you don’t want to be on the top either. Right in the middle is the best spot,” he finishes smugly.
Unfortunately, it’s also right in the baking afternoon sun. While there was a nice chill in the air in the mountains, here I’m roasting in my dual-layer outfit and full-length jeans.
As if in tune to my feelings—or he can just see the sweat pouring down my face—Landon asks, “Are you too warm, Lex?”
“The sun is pretty hot, and I didn’t bring a scrunchie.” I lift the heavy weight of my hair from my back, but there is no breeze to cool off my sweaty neck.
“The game doesn’t start for another half hour. Why don’t you go take off your long-sleeved shirt? Milo and I will hold your spot. We can get you another drink too, if you’re thirsty?”
I cringe internally. Somehow, I knew this was coming. I thought about just taking off the jersey, but that wasn’t a good option—Jared asked me to wear it and there was clearly some significance to it. I chose the thin shirt because it is the lightest I have, but it’s also see-through, so I don’t want to wear it on its own. And I don’t want to take it off and reveal my arms.
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine.” I shrug it off like no big deal, but my face feels hot and I can just imagine how red it must be.
Milo watches me with a flat expression while I try to be nonchalant.
“What is it?” His voice is demanding, not really a question.
“What is what?” I feign innocence.
“You’re not telling me the truth. You’re hiding something. What is it?”
I release a half-hearted laugh as if he’s crazy, but glancing at Landon, I see his expression is just as serious. No one is sitting close enough to hear yet, and my heart beats wildly when I decide to tell them.
“It’s not a big deal, okay? Just… when my uncle found out about me, it was because I’d been attacked. And I have scars on my arms, and I don’t want everyone to see them and ask about them.”
Milo’s dark eyes appear to flash in the bright afternoon light. “Will you show us? Maybe they aren’t that bad.”
“Oh, they’re bad alright,” I mutter, but tug the cuff on my sleeve up half way so they can see the silvery lines that run parallel down my arm.
Landon whistles low between his teeth, and he and Milo share a glance. “Do you know what did that?”
