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On the way home from my tutoring work, I buy weed from a dealer who approaches me, and mark the spot for when I need more.
You’re not staying, remember? No reason to mark anything. Take what you can and run, like you always do, vanishing in the maze of the cities.
Like I always do, I light up as I continue, keeping to the shady side of the street, letting the smoke relax me.
Though it’s not working all that well today. Something’s off—well, more off than usual. I can’t put my finger on it. It could be anything from my dreams last night, to the plate I broke this evening, to a change in the weather or this nagging feeling that I should already be gone from here by now.
Jane, Nate’s mom, hasn’t crossed paths with me again, and I haven’t had a chance to ask Nate about it, what’s the deal with her and what’s the big secret.
Hard to do when I’m avoiding him. When I’m trying to convince myself I don’t give a damn.
Because I don’t, dammit. I don’t know these kids. They mean nothing to me. They aren’t my family. My family’s gone.
So what if the boys are in trouble? And what if I kissed Sydney? It means shit.
But when I enter the building and find her inside, on the steps leading to the first floor, arms folded over her knees, face hidden against them, I hiss.
“Hey. Hey, Sydney.” Something about her posture and the dark stains on her bare legs has alarms going off inside my head. I sit down beside her, put a hand on her back, run it down over her bony spine. “Are you hurt?”
“I fell.” A choked whisper.
“Where? What happened?” She trembles under my hand, and I give in and wrap my arm around her, tugging her against me. “Do I need to go beat someone up?”
A sound between a sob and a laugh escapes her. “Kash…”
“Did someone hurt you, Red? Tell me.”
She slumps against me, wrapping her thin arms around me. “Just some boys at school. It was West’s turn to walk me home, but he’s sick and missed school.”
Fear stabs me. “This happens a lot?”
“It doesn’t. Told you, the boys have my back normally.” She lifts her head, leaving a wet patch of tears on my T-shirt. “I thought I was being so careful, but they got me.”
“And they pushed you?” At her nod, I curse. “And what else? Did they hurt you more?”
She shakes her head, and fuck, I hope she’s telling me the truth, or swear to God, I’ll ask her for the names of those boys and go kick their asses.
“You can call me if you need help, Sydney. I’ll give you my number.”
She frowns. “I texted Nate, to see if he could come get me, but he never answered. I hope he’s okay.”
“Let’s focus on you for now, okay? I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s get you upstairs.”
But she shoves at me and scoots away, her eyes red-rimmed but flashing with anger. “Don’t pretend to care. I’ll be okay. Go.”
I blink. “I don’t… I’m not pretending.”
“Don’t, Kash. You’re leaving. You don’t care about us.”
She has a bruise on her delicate jaw, and blood on her lips. She looks so battered, I can’t breathe, and I don’t care if my denial is smashed to pieces.
“I said I’m not pretending. Come on, let’s go up.”
I take her hand, and she lets me, her gaze wary as I tug her to her feet. “You’re full of shit,” she whispers, and she’s right. I am. Sometimes I don’t even know when I’m lying to myself.
Surely a bad sign.
In her bathroom, I sit her down on the closed toilet seat and check her over, finding more bruises and small cuts. Nothing looks broken or in need of stitches, so I soak a towel in warm water and clean up the cuts. I find Band-Aids and apply them to her scraped knees.
