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“No. Not really.” I grimace. It hurts to breathe, like I broke a rib or something. Once we get across the street, I groan out, “Can you grab me a soda? Fucking thirsty.” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and that combined with my pain is making me nauseous. My stomach starts turning.
“Yeah. Wait right here.” We’re at the edge of our park, my house right around the corner.
Easton sprints off, his bike beside him as he grips the handlebars. I fall down to my knees, the pain too much to remain standing. I look down on the ground and see a pool of blood below me.
Huh, no wonder I’m feeling lightheaded.
“Shit. Jackson?” A dainty voice comes from behind me, and I’ve never wanted to curl inside of my body more than I wanted to this very second.
Cara walks up in front of me and plants her dainty hands on her waist. Her dirty brown hair is cropped to her chin, and I’m pretty sure she did it herself. She’s wearing her classic Paul Frank monkey shirt that looks a size too small, and jean shorts.
“Go away.” I grumble, trying to reign in my emotions when she looks at me in the face.
She squats down, and the wind kicks up, drifting her annoying, girly scent right into my nose. I lean back, trying to get away. She doesn’t notice my conundrum, tucking her short hair behind her ears as she stares at my bloody knee.
“Looks like it needs stitches.” She points at my knee, the blood still trailing down my shin.
“No shit.” I glare at her.
She wrinkles her little nose in annoyance. LikeI’ma bad taste in her mouth. “Well, you don’t have to be such a dick about it.”
“Fuck off.” I hate that I’m being such an idiot, because Cara’s actually cool. She doesn’t hangout with us like she used to. A few months ago, she grew a pair of perky tits and ass. Since then, it’s like we don’t exist. She’s been holed up in her house, not hanging out with any of us anymore.
I think Logan would wring my neck if he knew I was being so callous towards her. But the truth is, if she doesn’t get out of here soon, she might see me shed a tear.
Yeah, the pain isthatbad.
She stands up straight and brushes off the back of her shorts. “You know what, Jackson? I came over here to try and help. Just because we don’t hangout anymore doesn’t mean I don’t care about you guys. But I guess you don’t feel the same. Whatever, bleed out on the corner for all I care.” She kicks dust towards me and turns back for home, and I swear I saw the shiny glow of tears in her eyes.
Fucking hell.
I bury my head in my hands, hiding my wet eyes and hating that I’m showing any emotion. Not only that, but the stabbing in my chest is a new feeling I’ve never felt before. It’s like the gravel burn went through the skin and all the way to my heart.
Why do I feel this bad? It’s just a stupid girl.
“Dude, you okay?” Easton runs back towards me with a can of soda in hand, Logan trailing behind him.
I discreetly wipe my eyes and grab the can from his hands.
“No.” I mutter, cracking open the top and guzzling down the contents.
“My dad wasn’t home, but Rich was. He told your dad.” Logan says, cringing at the end.
No one really knows what goes on behind my closed doors, but I think they have an inkling.
“What?” I drop the soda, letting the brown liquid soak into the yellow grass. I hoist myself up, groaning with each movement. “I gotta go.”
“Whoah, dude. Hold up.” Easton comes to grab onto me, but I give him a look. He steps back, holding his hands up. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”
I feel nauseous, dizzy, lightheaded, still thirsty, and fucking angry.
“I just… need to go.” I gasp.
“Want help?” Logan asks.
“No.” I’m not really angry with them, I’m justangryin general.
I limp home, trailing my bike alongside me. The sun shining down on me makes my vision flutter with darkness. It’s too much, the pain, the bleeding, it’s too fucking much. And now my dad knows what happened.Fuck.I’m dead.
