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I don’t say anything because I’m not sure what to say. I avoid situations like this, where words make me feel a certain way. Instead, I go up, knowing that he’ll follow because he is my best friend and that’s what best friends do.
We make it to the top, leaving the ladder down so we can exit the way we came in.
“Well,” Crew begins, “what are we looking for?”
“Anything. A jacket. A hoodie. Fingerprints in fucking flour. Hell, I don’t know. But you have to admit, Jude doing this alone doesn’t sound feasible.”
“We know he had Melody’s help for a while. I suppose it isn't far-fetched to assume he’s blackmailed someone else into helping him.”
I walk around the dirty kitchen, disgusted at the sight in front of me. “But who?”
Crew shrugs his shoulders, his guess as good as mine. “Hammond, maybe?”
“Nah,” I tell him, “I think we’ve taught ol’ boy Victor not to fuck around when it comes to us. He’s too much of a pussy anyways.”
“So was Melody, but look how tough she got when her secrets were waved in front of her?”
“Something in my gut tells me Victor’s not the accomplice.”
We’re searching in silence, Crew in the living room area and me in the kitchen, when he says, “Hey. Did you say something to Scar earlier when you carried her away from the party?”
Shuffling through a stack of old newspapers, I don’t lift my eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“She seemed upset when she came back. Wouldn’t tell me why.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. So I’m asking you. What did you say to her?” The shift in his tone is accusatory, and I can tell this conversation is about to take us from friends to enemies real fast. It happens often when Scar is the subject. Fortunately, we always get back to where we should be, but not without some hateful words and a couple punches first. Hopefully that isn’t the case this time because I’m really not in the mood to go at it with anyone right now.
I slap my hand on the stack of papers and look at him with stern eyes. “She asked why I hate her so much and I told her the truth. Nothing she didn’t already know.” My gaze returns to the pile in front of me, but I’m staring humorlessly at it, a prisoner of my own thoughts.
Because I do hate her.
I hate her.
I have to.
Right?
There are times when I feel my humanity trying to break free, but I’m bound by the secrets I know, and because of them, I will never be able to look at the world as anything more than a dark cage full of betrayal.
“It’s not fair. Why does Maddie get to go get ice cream with Mom and Mrs. Sunder, but I can’t.”
Dad licks the tip of his finger and turns the page of the newspaper lying flat on the dining room table. “Life’s not fair, son.”
“But Maddie gets to—”
His head jerks up in annoyance, eyebrows caved. “Maddie is not in jeopardy of potentially falling in love with the likes of that girl one day. You, my son, are. She’s going to grow up to be just as beautiful as her mother, but you mustn’t let her looks deceive you. Girls like that will suck you in and spit you out, then stomp on you when you’re down.”
“Ew. I’m not gonna fall in love with Scarlett. She’s gross.”
“You say that now, but you wait. One day, you’ll see things differently. Which is exactly why you need to listen to me.”
Ignoring him, I take another bite of the vanilla ice cream Mom gave me before they left, since Dad said I couldn’t go. It’s so stupid. I’m never going to fall in love with Scarlett. I don’t even think she’s that pretty. She’s sort of like a boy. Always playing in the dirt and carrying around handfuls of worms. Her knees are always dirty and I’m certain she’s the one who broke all the lawn ornaments in Crew’s parents’ yard a couple days ago.
“Look at me, Neo.” When I don’t, my father slams his fist down on the table, rattling the china Mom just set out. “I said, look at me, dammit.”
I do, but it’s still not good enough. He grabs the sides of my head and levels my face with his, while ice cream drips from my spoon onto the table. “Have some respect and look your father in the eye when he’s talking to you.”
