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“Joey’sdead.” I say the words softly. A knot of emotion rolls into place, and for a moment I can’t speak. When I manage to swallow it back down, I add, “We left his body in his—” My throat won’t make the necessary sounds to finish that sentence.
“We don’t know that.”
“Just because we didn’t hear about his death, doesn’t mean he’s not dead.” I force my eyes to open and to stare straight ahead. “The Firebirds found him before you got there and took care of his body. That’s it. You have to let this go.”
There’s a short pause as Pianna hiccups and thinks over my words. My heart clenches in my throat. We worried about this for a month before we left Cohawk. Where did Joey’s body go? He felt dead when we threw his limp body into my trunk and when we carried him into his trailer. He certainlylookedthe part as we threw shit around his trailer to make it look like an assault and robbery. But when Pianna went over to his house a few days later, Joey’s body was gone.
Pianna sniffles. “Then why didn’t they come to me to tell me my boyfriend was dead?”
“Who knows? But he’s dead, and that’s all that matters.”
We’ve had this conversation over a hundred times. It’s happening less frequently but still, rehashing it causes my anxiety to spike to barely manageable levels. My mouth dries as I try to drag in deep, silent breaths. I don’t want Pia to know I’m starting to freak out too. It’ll only make her feel worse.
“It’s been years. Even if he was alive, why would he wait until now to come find you?”
“I know, you’re right, Bri.” I can hear her breathing starting to settle between hiccups. “I must’ve, I dunno, been seeing things.”
Inhaling, I nod, as if she can see it. “You’re going to be ok, Pia. I promise.”
“I love you,” she mumbles.
“I love you too.”
I wait until she hangs up before taking another shaky breath and holding it. As I slowly count to ten, I exhale. It hardly does anything for my nerves, but it does give me time to compose myself. When I’m sure I can handle being around other people, I gather up my container, throw it in my lunch box, and place it in my locker before heading back to my post.
For the rest of the day, I can’t shake off Pianna’s panic. Every time I look up, I swear I can see Joey standing beside a bookshelf, by the glass doors to the study rooms, or just out of the corner of my eye. It takes effort to keep my hands from shaking or jumping every time someone tries to get my attention. The smile I plaster on my face feels fragile whenever I help a student. Even my gait feels off as I walk around. Like I’m ready to start sprinting at any moment.
If Jonathan notices, he doesn’t say anything. When Megan takes over for him later that afternoon, she is too lost in her own boyfriend drama to notice anyone else’s issues. I’m thankful for how oblivious she is. Especially when I jump so hard when a student taps the desk to get my attention that I nearly knock off her gallon-sized styrofoam cup.
I half expect Jason to turn up today. It’s Monday, which means he usually makes an appearance in the afternoon. But he doesn’t show. I should feel relieved, but I almost looked forward to it. I needed a distraction today more than anything. Even if it comes in the form of being harassed.
When my shift ends, I’m all smiles as I wave goodbye to Megan and the security guard that I pass halfway across campus. But when I climb into my car, I quickly lock the doors, lean forward, and press my forehead to the steering wheel.
I killed Joey. That’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. But it wasn’t like he was a good person. He was actually pretty shitty. Shouldn’t knowing that lessen my guilt? You’d think. But turns out, that’s not how the world works. My throat tightens. He’s gone, he’s gone, he’sgone.
All because of me.
My stomach threatens to turn inside out and a sob tumbles from between my lips. Sweat starts to bead on my forehead, and my heart hammers out morse code for help. I’m a mess. At this point, I’m no better than Pianna was earlier. Will that night never go away?
A sharp rap at my window causes me to jump.
“Dollface.”
I straighten up in my seat with a start and turn to find Trip standing on the other side of my door. He flashes me a smirk. Oh shit, no… not this. Not right now. Not when I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I thought I wanted a distraction earlier, but now that Trip’s here to give me one, I want nothing to do with it. He must see something in my expression because the smirk falls as his pupils narrow. Clenching my jaw, I insert my keys into the ignition and turn the car on.
“Don’t you do it,” he warns through the glass. “I need to talk to you.”
Oh, I’mdefinitelygoing to do it. I can only imagine what he wants to talk about. Does he want to mock me about the video I sent them? Berate me about sticking my nose in his business? Or is talk a code word for spilling his cum all over me? Whatever he wants totalkabout, it can wait. With a tight smile, I flip him the bird and pull off. The look of shock turning into fury on his face, which I catch in the rearview mirror, is enough to make me feel better. By the time I get home, my grin is real and my nerves have settled.
That decision might come back to bite me in the ass later, but by then, I’ll be ready for it.
Sixteen
The knock on my door the next morning surprises me.
Capping my mascara, I leave the bathroom and head for the front door. One glance through the peephole, and I know what my day is going to be like. I sigh heavily, hoping to god that Trip can hear my exasperation. The early arrival might be unexpected, but his presence isn’t. I knew after leaving him in the parking lot yesterday, he’d be pissed with me. If that vibrator incident taught me one thing, it’s that the guys expect me to drop everything for them.
“Go away, I’m getting ready for work.”
