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“He sounds like my father. He wants nothing to do with me, yet he won’t let me move out. And he has all these stupid rules …” She sighs as she sinks down onto the bed. “Isn’t it going to be great when we turn eighteen?”
“Definitely.” I think back to the conversation that Hunter and I had about moving to Seattle. But that was just dreamers’ talk. There’s no way that’ll ever happen. No, more than likely, if I do get to move away from my uncle, aunt, and Dixie May, I’ll end up going to a community college. And that’s okay. It’s better than living with them.
“When do you turn eighteen?” she asks as she leans forward to unzip the suitcase.
“In a few weeks.” I sit down on the bed beside her. “What about you?”
“I have another year before I do. And, even then, I’ll still be in high school, so I know my father will try to make me continue to live under his roof. I’m going to do everything I can to get the hell out of here, though.”
“I want to leave, too. I just have no idea where.”
“You want to go to college?”
“I think so.”
“I don’t know if I do. I mean, I want to be an artist, and I haven’t decided yet if college will get me closer to that goal or not.” She pulls out a stack of clothes. “What about you? If you go, what will you major in?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.” I’m basic, and that makes it hard to pick a subject.
“None at all?” she asks as she holds up a shirt.
I shake my head. “I don’t have any talents, so that makes it harder to narrow it down.”
“Maybe you have a talent, and you just haven’t discovered it yet,” she suggests. “I think it might be harder to figure out what you’re good at if you don’t have anyone to encourage you to search for it. Hunter is the only reason I figured out I was good at drawing and painting.” She sets the shirt down and hesitates. “Did your parents—and you can totally just tell me I’m crossing a line if you don’t want to talk about this—but did your parents ever encourage you to explore your interests?”
I can’t help smiling a little. “My dad taught me how to fight.”
She raises her brows in surprise. “Really?”
I nod. “He used to fight in these tournaments and wanted to teach me his skills. I was young, so I never got very good at it.” I have to wonder, though, now that these weird memories are surfacing, if perhaps him teaching me how to punch and kick and even do headlocks was for a different reason.
If it was so I could defend myself.
If only I had been more talented, then perhaps I could’ve stopped the doctor from touching me.
“Maybe you can have Zay teach you more about that.” She grabs a pair of pants. “Fighting is definitely his thing.”
“I figured as much.”
“You’re supposed to be doing stuff with him today?”
“I am, but I’m not sure if that’s still the plan, since he got mad and took off.”
She muses over something. “Oh, Zay. He always gets upset about everything.”
I arch a brow. “So, he’s not just like that with me?”
“Nope. He’s like that with everyone, so don’t take it personally.” She retrieves a pair of sneakers from the suitcase. “A little off the subject, but what happened that the guys offered to let you stay here? It’s not really their MO. Usually, they stick to themselves, but they seem to be all over you.”
I waver, unsure of how much I want to tell her. “Well, we’ve been hanging out, thanks to Hunter, but some shit happened, and I don’t know, I just ended up staying here last night.”
She looks at me with her brows furrowed. “What sort of shit?”
Again, I’m not sure how much I should tell her. Hunter seemed like he didn’t want her to know about it—the game, I mean.
“People were bullying me, and I think they felt bad or something.” It’s not a total lie, but it’s definitely walking the line where I feel bad.
“That’s still weird for them. Trust me; I’ve known them forever, and they’ve never had anyone else in their group.” She gives a short pause as she takes out a dress. “Well, except for this one girl when they were little.”
