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“No,” I say, scowling at her.
I’m not sure if I’m more pissed at her for interrupting or Dixie for bringing up a proposal right now like it’s a given. I’m not anywhere close to being ready to talk about marriage. I’m still in high school, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention that I have no career lined up. I don’t even know if I want to go to college, let alone what I want to do with the rest of my life and who I want to do it with. For the past three years, I’ve been too busy planning how I’m going to survive the next day to plan for the shit other people plan for.
I never figured I’d live this long, anyway. Devlin died. My sister tried. Preston and my cousin Sullivan went into hiding. And there I was walking around Willow Heights right under the Dolce boys’ noses, reminding them of their dead sister. I figured it was only a matter of time until they put me in the ground.
“I mean, it wouldn’t be that strange,” Dixie says, noticing Gloria’s skeptical expression. “We’ve been together three years. In fact, Homecoming was our anniversary.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t really together until this year,” Gloria points out. “You’ve only been his girlfriend for a few months.”
“But Homecoming is when we slept together the first time,” Dixie says. “It’s still an anniversary. And it’s when I fell in love. Everyone else broke up and fell out of love, but we made it through all of high school together. Colt’s my one and only, and he always will be.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, and suddenly I can’t get enough air. Her arms are a noose, and I’m smothering in them.
“I’m going to get a beer,” I say, sliding Dixie off my lap and into the chair. The combination of these two girls always sets me off.
I head for the truck, tucking a pill under my tongue on my way. When I get there, I spot Maverick leaned up against his El Camino with his hand up a girl’s skirt. I sit on the tailgate and smoke a cigarette, ignoring her moans. After a minute, they hop up next to me.
“We bum a couple of those?” Maverick asks.
I hand over a couple, then dig out two beers from my cooler. “Fucking mooch.”
Maverick just laughs and drapes his arm around the girl he’ll no doubt be fucking tonight. She looks like she’s never seen the inside of a tattoo parlor in her life, but then, it takes all types to keep him satisfied. I don’t bother asking her name. I know she won’t last more than a night in his bed.
When I’m done smoking and can breathe again, I force my feet to trudge back to Dixie. A group has gathered around the little fire. Duke is already smashed, but Baron is standing on a bucket, quickly going over the boundaries for the game. Once he’s given a run-down of the rules, we scatter.
“Let’s stay together,” Dixie says, grabbing my hand and taking off for the fence that runs around the factory.
“This way,” I say, leading her toward the boarded-up Fred’s store. We duck along the side of it, between the cinderblock wall and an old, rusted Dumpster that the city must have forgotten to reclaim when the store shut down. A weird sense ofdéjà vousrolls over me, and I sway on my feet. I search for the memory, but it’s like a word on the tip of your tongue that never quite arrives.
“Did we come here last year?” I ask as we squeeze into the space.
I was here.
I don’t need her answer. I know it. I can fucking feel it, every cell in my body vibrating as the energy churns, trying to find the right alignment, the tipping point. The tidal wave of memory builds inside me, but as I grasp for it in the forefront of my mind, the beach is barren, the water drawing back further than it ever has, further out of reach.
“Probably,” Dixie says. “We played hide and seek, and this is a good hiding spot.”
I’m annoyed when a stampede of running feet interrupts before I can ask more.
“Come on,” Dixie says, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go.”
“Or, we could crouch down behind this Dumpster, and they’ll never see us,” I say, sliding down the wall. Another dizzying wave ofdéjà voushits me, and I reach for the cigarettes in the top of my pants, trying to steady myself. The night has gotten colder, and I’m freezing my ass off in the thin costume, but I’d still rather hang out here and wrestle with my broken brain than run around and get warmed up. Fun and games with the Dolces never ends well for my family.
“Colt,” Dixie whines, stomping her foot. “You said you’d play. It’s fun. And we’re not playing hide and seek this year. It’s tag. You’re supposed to run.”
A shriek pierces the night, followed by growls and snarls that sound more like a pack of wild dogs than zombies.
I sigh and push myself to my feet. “Okay, but I can’t be held responsible if they kill me.”
“They won’t kill you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “It’s Bye Week. Anything goes. That’s the rule.”
“Like Baron Dolce plays by the rules.”
“They’re his rules,” she points out.
“Never stopped him before.”
She might think the Dolces aren’t too bad, that they’re just making us pay for the death of their sister. But that’s because they’ve taken it easy on her. She’s seen what they did to me, but always after the fact. I’ve been there. I’ve seen the look in Baron’s eyes when he tortures people. I wish I could say they were empty, but that’s more Royal’s style. Baron’s are the exact opposite, like hurting people is the only time he truly feels anything, when he’s most alive.
