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The death glare vanishes from Lanson’s face when Lyric looks back at him. “Oh, time for class.” Lyric springs up and grabs my hand, hauling me to my feet.
That move earns me the darkest scowl from Lanson. I have a feeling things are going to get a hell of a lot worse.
I wish I could follow Lyric, but the teacher splits up the class—boys on one side, girls on the other. Then we’re divided into teams of three and handed a basketball. Athletics was never my thing, but I try my best, even when I start to get criticized by Lanson, who of course has to be on the team I’m playing against.
He smirks at me as he throws the ball over my head to another member of the team then “accidentally” elbows me in the gut.
“Where are you from?” he asks as we both jog down the court toward the ball.
“Nowhere important.” I dodge to the right when the ball is thrown again and surprisingly catch it.
My shoe squeaks against the floor as he knocks the ball out of my hand before I can even start dribbling. “One thing’s for sure; you sure as hell aren’t from here.” He stares me up and down as if I’m trash. “I heard you were adopted or some shit. Not sure why the hell anyone would want you.” He jabs me in the side with his elbow.
It takes all my strength not to clock him in the face.
“And why the hell is Lyric Scott hanging out with you?” Another elbow rammed to the rib cage, this time with so much force it nearly knocks the wind out of me.
For a brief moment, I tumble into a memory from two years ago. The exact same thing occurred then, only it was an adult who took the air from me. As fast as I fall into the memory, it fizzles out like a flame.
“I mean, I get that she thinks she needs to be friends with everyone,” Lanson continues, “but seriously, she’s sinking to the bottom of the barrel with you.”
When he stomps on my foot, I can’t take it anymore. I was taught not to fight back when I was younger, but once I entered the system, all bets were off, and I did pretty much whatever the hell I wanted. I was going to try to be better, though, because the Gregorys seemed genuinely nice, but fuck it.
I push him. “Dude, shut the fuck up.”
A shit-eating smirk spreads across his face at my reaction. “Or what?” He inches toward me and gives me a shove back. “What are you going to do about it? Because in case you haven’t heard, I’m the shit around here.”
“Wow, there’s an accomplishment,” I retort, regaining my balance. “The shit of Glensview High School. I’m sure that’s going to get you far in life.”
“Way farther than you,” he bites back as he glances at my piercings, black nail polish, and gauges. “Seriously, I bet if they searched your room, they’d find dead animals everywhere.”
I inhale and exhale, trying to stay calm. “And if they searched yours, I’m sure they’d find steroids.”
His smirk shifts to a scowl. Then he’s spinning around to catch the ball, but mid-turn, he brings his elbow up and slams it hard into my face. Blood gushes from my nostrils and pain radiates all the way up to my head as I hunch over, groaning.
Fuck that hurt.
Goddamnit, I hate life.
Life always hurts.
I should have just taken the bottle of pills this morning. Spared myself another day’s worth of pain.
I’m about to stand upright and go after him—who gives a shit about the consequences—but then I hear a burst of commotion and someone shouting.
When I glance up, Lanson is on his knees, cupping his own nose, and Lyric’s standing in front of him with her hands on her hips.
“Next time, it’s going to be my fist, asshole,” she says to him then reels around to me. “Are you okay?” She lowers my hands from my nose, wincing at the sight. “We need to get you to the nurse.”
“What did you do to him?” My voice sounds all nasally.
“I threw the basketball at his face.” She winks at me. “I told you I got your back, dude.”
I’m not sure how to respond. No one has ever had my back. Not even my brother and sister, but that wasn’t their fault. None of us could take care of ourselves at the time, let alone each other. It feels nice. More than nice. Nice is something new to me. Different. For a moment, I feel different.
And for a fleeting, life-changing moment, I’m kind of glad I didn’t take those pills this morning.
Chapter 3
Lyric
“So what happened?” is the first thing Ayden says when I approach his locker after school.
“Not much. I got detention for a few days, but the principal loves me and always goes easy on me.” I slide my backpack on. “What about you?”
He shrugs as he retrieves his bag out of his locker and unzips it. “Nothing, really. I went to the nurse. She put some ice on my nose then sent me on my way.”
I squint at his nose. “It looks really gnarly.”
He touches the brim of it and winces. “It feels really gnarly.” He removes a few textbooks out of his locker, stuffing them in his bag. “How much trouble do you think we’re going to be in when we get home?”
“You know, I’ve been putting a lot of thought into that,” I say as he slams his locker. “And I’ve come up with a plan.”
“A plan?” he questions as he secures his backpack onto his back. “What kind of plan?”
“Well, the best bet is to play Uncle Ethan right from the start, because he gets really uncomfortable over almost everything.” I link arms with him as we start down the busy hall. I’ve been touching him a lot today, and while I can tell it bothers him, I’m not going to stop until he asks me to. I like touching him. It feels like he’s mine, which makes me feel special. “If we can have him convinced that it was an accident right from the start, then we should be good to go when we get home.”
“It kind of was an accident,” he points out as we exit the doors and enter the deliciously warm sunlight.
“Yeah, but I kind of have a habit of doing stuff like this,” I explain as we cross the freshly mowed grass toward the loading area in front of the school. “You’ll get off the hook easily, but I might have to do some time.”
His arm flexes beneath my touch. “I’m not going to let you get into trouble over this—over me. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Aw, so you’re the hero type.” I playfully bump my shoulder into his. “Never would have guessed that about you.”
He comes so close to smiling. Just a little more joking, and I know I can make it happen.
I open my mouth to crack another joke, but snap my jaw shut when I spot the Gregory’s gigantic sedan parked amongst the other line of cars. “Crap.”
“What?” Ayden tracks my gaze to the driver’s seat where Aunt Lila is sitting. And in the passenger seat is my mother. “Okay, so now what do we do?”
I overdramatically bobble my head back. “Now, we go face the music.”
Aunt Lila is so grateful for my stepping in for Ayden that she actually starts to tear up. She seems heartbroken that someone would want to hurt him. She keeps saying to him, “You’ve already been through so much. This isn’t fair.” I can tell Ayden gets really uncomfortable with the waterworks. Thankfully, my mom intervenes and calms Lila down. Then, she turns around in her seat and lays my punishment on me.
The punishment is the stupidest thing ever, though. One week of cleaning my room and one week of hanging out with Ayden after school. Plus, I have to help out at the shelter on Thanksgiving. Like that’s a punishment. I have to clean my room anyway and the shelter thing is a tradition.
After we get home, I end up in Ayden’s room, sprawled on the bed with the door agape. Lila keeps coming in to check on us, as if she half expects to catch us naked and fondling each other. Fat chance that’ll happen. Even though Ayden is ridiculously adorable in a self-tortured artist, gothic, I’m-internally-tortured sort of way, I’m saving myself for someone who will capture my wild soul and tame it. I know I sound like a sap, but I blame it on my parents’ undying love story. Even after twent
y years of marriage, they're still ridiculously in love, so the bar for my own love story is set pretty high.
“Are you sure you two don’t want a snack?” Lila sticks her head into the room for the umpteenth time.
Ayden nods as he situates against the headboard, working on his English assignment. “I’m sure.”
She looks at me and I shrug. “I ate a buttload of cookies before I came up here.”
“Okay,” she says disappointedly then leaves us to get back to our homework.
The soft tune of “Cardiac Arrest” by Bad Suns flows from the stereo as Ayden continues to jot answers down, but. I’m more fixated on him than my assignment.
“So, did the gauges hurt when you got them?” I ask as I doodle thorny vines all over my math paper.
When he glances up from his paper, strands of his black hair hang in his grey eyes. “I don’t know. Probably about as bad as your ear piercings.”
I touch the rose earrings in my ears then kneel up on the mattress. “What about tattoos?”
“What about them?”
“Do you have any?”
