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Those days are gone.
Panting, light-headed, I double back from the kitchen and try to think which room could be over my bed. I encounter a closed door and push it open softly, only to stop in my tracks and stare.
What the hell, I think, and blink, then rub my eyes. What in the fucking hell?
Nate is locked in fight with another boy, face red, sweat darkening his gray T-shirt as he pushes on the other’s chest, fist pulled back, ready to strike.
But the other boy twists and grabs him from behind in a headlock, and I’m caught off guard by the intense expression on his face and the most startling pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
I’m moving forward before I know what I’m doing, my hand clenching around my tobacco pouch, the other curling into a fist. Is the other boy a thief, an intruder, and is Nate fighting him off? What’s going on here?
Only there’s a girl sitting in a corner, watching, and the moment I see her, I stop in my tracks, confused.
When I say watching, I mean she’s leaning back against the wall, smirking and eating popcorn from a bowl.
Popcorn. I kid you not.
Maybe it’s delayed reaction combined with my shallow breathing, but my knees sort of buckle under me, and I just manage to make it look like I dropped to my knees willingly. Leaning back against the wall like the girl a few feet away, the pouch still clutched in my hand like a lifeline, I swallow hard and wipe a hand over my mouth, pretending everything’s fine.
“Hey, Kash,” Nate says, panting, and grins at me, still in a headlock, his face red and dripping with sweat. “What’s up, man?”
“Yo.” I swallow again, forcing the bile down where it belongs. “What the fuck are you doing?” Belatedly I remember the girl and wince. “Sorry.”
She snickers.
“Sparring,” the other boy says, releasing Nate finally, so that he staggers away from him and instantly turns, waving his fists about dramatically. “Wanna give it a try?”
“Nah, thanks.”
“You okay?” the girl asks, leaning toward me. “You don’t look so hot.”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine.” She’s looking straight at me, so I focus on the pouch in my hand to avoid her gaze.
“So you’re the famous Kash,” she says.
“Famous?” That has me glancing up again.
Goddammit.
“Nate and West told me about you.”
“West, be a good boy and say hi,” Nate says, nodding at the other boy, a sparkle in his eyes. “West lives downstairs and shares English, chem and geography with me.”
“The joy,” West says drily, and that makes me smile in spite of everything.
Weird.
But maybe I won’t need the smoke after all. My breathing is starting to ease, which is a damn good sign—of avoiding the looming panic attack. Of moving here, of making it this far.
Don’t laugh. I need to believe it. I’ll take it. I’ll take every win, no matter how small.
“Nate said you’re older than us,” she says, and her voice is soft like velvet. “You don’t look twenty, you know.”
Oh, I know. “I’m baby-faced, is all.”
That has her giggling. “With all that metal in your face… um, no.”
The girl is real pretty, I realize now that my heart isn’t about to jackhammer its way out of my ribcage anymore. Small with delicate features and fiery hair, and a hint of interesting curves under the baggy T-shirt she’s wearing.
