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I said, “Let’s revise that too as we go.”
“Right. We’ll figure it out later.” Gem nodded.
“What about the mom? You said she was there?” from Alred.
Theresa, Gem, and I looked at each other. As one we said, “We’ll figure that out as we go too.”
We got the booze, candy, and ice cream.
We found the bonfire area, and we did drink.
We had lots of candy.
Most of the ice cream melted or got dirt in it.
We laughed so much because, well . . . booze, that we forgot to watch for Scout’s truck to show up. We also never went to his house, too worried about running into his mom catching us dumping bleach into his laundry basket. It was more the concept of revenge that was the most helpful.
By the time I got to bed that night, I was sore from laughing and from smiling because, turns out, I had some really great solid friends.
In my mind, that was the best revenge ever, and I wasn’t meaning against Scout.
For that revenge, I was just going to tell Clint. Clint would handle my vengeance all by himself.
Then I remembered and gasped, jerking upright in bed.
Clint! I’d forgotten all about him.
I rolled over and grabbed my phone.
Me: Hey! I’m so sorry. Some stuff went down today between Scout and me. I’ll tell you later, but are you okay? What did you end up doing? Can we do it together tomorrow?
His response came through in the morning.
Clint: All good. I handled it.
Me: Handled what? What’d you do?
Clint: Best if you don’t know.
79
SCOUT
Cohen met me at my locker first on Monday. “Dude. What the fuck?” He dropped his bag on the floor, his arms thrown up from frustration.
I ignored him, turning and opening my locker. I was ignoring everything, everyone. There seemed to be extra chaos going on in the hallway, but I didn’t care. None of it fucking mattered anymore.
“Let it go, man.” I stowed my bags.
“I called you Thursday night and nothing. Goddamn nothing. I know shit went down. Alex told me, and nothing. You stonewalled me Friday. Went to the gym, and you weren’t there all fucking weekend. My uncle told me to steer clear. Your uncle told me to steer clear. I’ll repeat, what the fuck, Scout?” His voice rose, and people were starting to look.
“I told you. Let it go.” The bell would ring soon. I didn’t want to come today. I didn’t want to come at all this week, but my uncle argued, said I needed to. My last week of freedom, so what was the point? I’d be sent off, going to the Privileged School of Assholes by next week. At this point, it was—I saw her. Ramsay.
Fuck. She looked good.
And haunted.
She was coming down the hallway, her friends completely circling her. Even Alred was there with books hugged against his chest. I wouldn’t put it past him to have transferred just for Ramsay. It was her. She inspired friendships like that. Loyalty.
People knew she was good people. They wanted to keep her—and I was torturing myself.
“Scout—” Cohen tried to get in front of me, but I wheeled around him.
“I told you. Let it go—” Slam!
I was hit hard from the side, shoved into the lockers. People scrambled. I might’ve ran into someone else, and I started to look, but the fist was in my peripheral vision. It was coming fast. I ducked, moving clear of whoever was coming at me.
It was Clint. His face was full of fury, eyes wild. “You little fuck. You piece of shit.” He shoved at me again, hitting my chest.
I didn’t move this time, and despite the threat of him, despite the madness happening all around us, I looked up.
She was right there.
Everything melted away.
The pain was there, so close to the surface. She couldn’t hide it, not right away, until she did, masking it. Cold hatred glared back at me before she blinked again. Another mask, cool indifference this time.
I would’ve taken anything, the hatred even, over the indifference.
Her friends were chattering, trying to pull her away, and then Clint was in my face again. “You’re next in line after a murderer. How’s that feel, you fucker—”
Sheer agony flared in her gaze, and she gasped, unable to put that away. “Oh God—” She’d been hurt by me. That was obvious, but she was haunted by what else had been taken from her.
I knew Clint was going to do something, say something. I’d been ready for it, willing to stand, let him get his hits in, but that? Bringing up her father? I snapped.
He came at me again, and I twisted. My shoulder and head dropped. I went down, then came back up with a punch, getting just under his chin, and his head flared back.
He flew backward, his body following suit. He was airborne for a second before he came back down, tripping and falling into the opposite lockers.
