The Art of Being Friends

by Jessica Sorensen

  My thoughts drift back to that message Raven had me look into. Was that what this was about? Is she hiding her true identity or something? With how little information is in this folder, I’m wondering if the new sheriff and his family are, too.

  “So, Diane’s already been here?” Zay suddenly appears and slides in the booth across from me.

  Jax is right behind him, taking a seat beside Zay.

  “Yeah.” My brows pull together. “What the hell are you two doing here? I thought you had in-school suspension.”

  “We did, but then Jax hacked into Mr. Moleny’s computer and found out some interesting search history that could be incriminating if anyone found out,” Zay says, grabbing the plate with my half-eaten slice of pie on it.

  “So you two blackmailed him into getting out of suspension?” I ask, though it’s not really a question, since I pretty much already know the answer.

  Jax nods, reclining back into the booth. “We also blackmailed him into giving us a ride here and informed him that if we ever got in-school suspension again, we’d send everyone on the teacher faculty a list of the information.”

  “We?” Zay questions, cocking his brow at Jax.

  “Okay, Zay informed him,” Jax corrects with an eye roll. “I hacked into the system.”

  I’m not surprised. Out of the two of them, Zay is way more vocal and daring. Jax has always been the quieter one, while I’m the jokester. Together, we kind of balance each other out, which is why I think we’ve managed to remain best friends for so long, despite how different we are.

  We do have similarities, though, like our messed-up, broken families, corrupt fathers, and painful childhoods. But we rarely speak about that kind of stuff.

  “It was a damn good idea. I’m glad, too, because this flying solo thing was getting really old.” I slant back and cross my arms, my thoughts wandering back to Ravenlee and how I spent lunch with her.

  Okay, maybe my solo time wasn’t completely awful. And after reading this file, I want to know more about her.

  “What’s that look for?” Zay asks as he stuffs a bite of pie into his mouth.

  I lift a shoulder. “I’m just thinking about what’s in this file. Or, more like what’s not in it.”

  Jax leans forward and rests his arms on the table. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, there’s hardly any background info on the town sheriff or his family.” I briefly pause. “Or his niece.”

  “Who’s his niece? And what does she have to with this?” Zay asks as he wolfs down another bite of pie.

  After what happened between Zay and Raven, I’m hesitant to tell him. But I’ll eventually have to since him and Jax will be helping me dig up information on the sheriff.

  “You know the new girl?” I ask cautiously.

  “The blonde one?” Zay asks. “Or the other fucking one with a death wish?”

  “Speaking of which,” Jax chimes in, “are those two sisters? Because they don’t look or act like it, yet they started school the same day … I’m a little confused.”

  “They’re cousins,” I explain. “The blonde one is Dixie May and is the sheriff’s daughter. Raven, the one who got Zay’s panties all up in a bunch, is his niece. He got guardianship over her after her parents were murdered.”

  “She didn’t get my panties in a bunch,” Zay grumbles, blasting me with a hard look. “She just pissed me off, and for a good reason.”

  “Sitting in your seat isn’t a good reason to get pissed off at someone,” I say. “And besides, she’s new.”

  “I don’t give a shit if she’s new.” Zay stuffs another piece of pie into his mouth. “She should’ve moved when I told her to.”

  “Or you could’ve just asked,” Jax tells him quietly.

  Zay glares at him, and Jax sighs and mutters, “Or not.”

  I press my lips together, deciding how much I want to tell them. “I ate lunch with her today. Well, her and Harlow.”

  Zay drops his fork. “What?”

  I shrug then give them a quick recap of how I ended up in my car with Raven and Harlow.

  “So you spent like half an hour with Harlow and this new girl,” Zay says after I finish, sarcasm oozing from his tone. “I bet that was fun.”

  “It actually wasn’t that bad. I mean, Harlow was kind of a pain in the ass, but not completely. And as for Raven …” I sink back against the seat, wavering. “Zay, I think you should give her another chance. After talking with her, I think she was just nervous during class. And from what I gathered, I don’t think she has a lot of friends.”

  “So?” Zay mumbles. “How the fuck is that my problem?”

  “It’s not. But we all know what it’s like to be bullied. Not by people at school, but by our families. Plus …” I pause, treading with caution, “her parents were murdered, Zay. And you of all people should know how badly having to deal with something like that can mess with someone’s mind.”

  Not that Zay’s parents were murdered. His older brother was a handful of years ago. The case was never solved, but I think, deep down, all of us know our fathers had something to do with it, since Zay’s brother was working for them at the time. Sometimes, when we have free time, we try to look into it ourselves, but we haven’t really gotten anywhere so far.

  Zay grows quiet then and begins picking at the pie.

  “I’m sorry for bringing it up,” I tell him apologetically. “I just … I feel bad for her, and I kind of want to try to be her friend, which means you guys have to, too, since we’re sort of a package deal.” When he says nothing, I add, “If it helps, she felt bad for riling you up during class.”

  “Did she?” he mumbles, continuing to pick the pie apart.

  Sighing, I glance at Jax, hoping he’ll help me out.

  But all he does is frown. “I don’t mean to be an asshole, but do you think you can be just friends with a girl? Especially one who …” He wavers. “Well, one who looks like her.”

  “What do you mean by ‘looks like her’?” I play dumb, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.

  And he gives me a look that says exactly that. “You know what I’m talking about,” he tells me. “She’s … Well, she’s … good looking—”

  Zay snorts a laugh and mumbles something under his breath incoherently.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “What? You disagree with him or something?”

  He looks at me, or more like stares me down hard. “No. I just thought it was funny he used the term good looking.”

  “Do you have a better word?” I ask.

  Zay rolls his eyes as he slumps back in the seat. “We all know she’s fucking gorgeous, so we might as well not tiptoe around it.” He considers something. “However, whether she’s hot or not is beside the point … Being friends with an outsider is complicated. I mean, for starters, we’d have to keep our jobs a secret, which would be a pain in the ass since our jobs are a huge part of our lives.” I must pull a funny face, because Zay’s gaze turns accusatory. “Please tell me you didn’t already tell her about our jobs.”

  Jax straightens, worry flooding his features. “Hunter, please say you didn’t.”

  “Okay, I didn’t.” But it’s pretty clear I’m lying, and they both scowl at me. “Look, I didn’t tell her everything. She just got a weird text from an unknown number, and I tried to track it down for her.”

  “Tried?” Zay asks.

  “I could only get a vague location,” I explain. “But I’m going to continue looking into it for her.”

  They both look annoyed as hell, and I guess that’s kind of understandable.

  “Look, if we become friends with her, we can make sure she keeps quiet about it,” I say. “Plus, maybe she can help us learn more about her uncle.”

  “And why do you think she’d help us with that?” Zay says with an arch of her brow. “Her uncle’s her family. We’re not.”

  “Yeah, but I got the impression she’s not a huge fan of her aunt, uncle, or cousin.” I pick
up my drink and take a sip, waiting for them to say something. They don’t. Finally, I set the glass down and ask, “So, what do you guys think?”

  Jax shrugs while fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I’m not opposed to it, but I also don’t think we should tell her all our secrets either … If she told the wrong person the wrong thing … we could be screwed.”

  “I know that,” I assure him. “We can be cautious around her.”

  Jax deliberates momentarily then gives a small nod. “Okay, I’m fine with it, I guess.”

  My gaze skates to Zay, and I lift a brow. “What do you think?”

  “I think she’s going to drive me crazy,” he mutters. “But whatever. If you guys want to be friends with her, I can’t stop you.”

  While that’s not a yes, it’s probably as close as I’m going to get to one.

  “Awesome.” Noting the time, I close the file and slide it toward them. “I have to head to tryouts. Go ahead and look through that. There’s not much, but it’s a start.” I stand up, preparing to leave, but then I pause. “Wait—you guys are going to have to ride back with me, since I have the car.”

  They’re already sifting through the papers in the folder, and Zay gives a dismissive shake of his head. “We’ll just hang out here for a while and get something to eat. We might go hang out at the bridge and smoke a bowl or two, if we’re feeling ambitious,” Zay tells me. “Just text us when tryouts are over, and we’ll let you know where we’re at.”

  “Okay. Cool.” I start toward the door.

  “Hunter?” Jax calls out.

  I turn around. “Yeah?”

  “Good luck,” he tells me with a small smile.

  “Thanks.” I leave the diner feeling pretty good. But as soon as I climb into my car, my thoughts drift right back to Raven.

  Who is this beautiful, mysterious girl with sad and familiar eyes?

  I hope I can find out.

  I also hope I’m not making a mistake by trusting my gut instinct and befriending her.

  14

  Raven

  I keep expecting something to happen during school, like show up at my locker and find the word: murderer painted across it, which wouldn’t be the first time. By the end of the day, however, nothing has happened. So weird. Usually, Dixie May follows through with her threats right away.

  I don’t relax as I grab my stuff and head out of the school, weaving around people cramming up the hallway. No one glances in my direction. Well, a few people do, but mostly out of curiosity over the new girl. It’s a weird feeling, not having people look at me like I’m a freak. But I know it won’t last.

  Sighing at that thought, I push through the doors and search the area for my aunt’s car. Yeah, I know she said she wouldn’t give me a ride home, but if I sneak into the car and refuse to get out, she won’t have a choice.

  But I can’t find it anywhere.

  So weird. I mean, she has to pick up Dixie May, right? What if Dixie May got a ride home from one of her new friends that I’m sure she’s made? Crap, if that’s the case, then I’m screwed since I don’t even know what bus I’m supposed to be riding.

  Sighing, I make a U-turn to go back to the main office and find out. But when I arrive there, no one is at the front desk. I wait a while before the secretary shows up.

  “So, how was your first day?” she asks as she plops down in the seat behind the desk.

  “Good,” I tell her honestly, which is a little weird.

  “Good. That’s always good to hear.” She gives a short pause. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  I nod. “I was wondering if you can help me figure out my bus number?”

  “Sure.” She turns toward the computer. “What’s your address?”

  When I tell her, she types it in the system then gives me the number.

  “I hope you don’t need to ride it today, though,” she says, rotating the chair back in my direction then glancing at the clock. “The buses have probably already left.”

  My expression briefly plummets. “Oh.”

  She offers me a look of pity. “Is there someone you can call for a ride?”

  No. But not wanting her to continue to look at me with pity, I nod. “Yeah, I can call my aunt.” As tears burn in my eyes, I hurriedly turn to leave. “Thanks for looking that up for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says as I push out the door and step into the now mostly vacant hallway.

  Shit. What am I going to do? I have no damn idea.

  So much for a great first day.

  Resisting the urge to cry, I wander down the hallway. I could text my aunt and beg her to come get me, but that might not even work. I do a map search and see that the walk home is about seven miles. If I jogged, I could get home in a couple of hours, right before it gets dark.

  Seeing no other option, I make my way toward the exit doors then pause as I’m walking by the gym. The doors are shut but have windows, and I can hear the sounds of balls being bounced. When I peek in, I see guys playing basketball. Or, more specifically, Hunter playing basketball. He’s only wearing shorts so his chest is on full display. He has a couple of small tattoos, but I’m too far away to tell what they are. He’s also lean, defined, and is dripping with sweat. It’s … Well, it’s a nice view.

  “What’re you doing?”

  I startle, thinking maybe this is it—the way Dixie May is going to get me back—but then I glance to the side and see Katy standing beside me. I relax just a drop, but not completely, recalling how she chased Hunter across the parking lot.

  “I was just watching the tryouts,” I say. “Well, glancing at them.”

  Her gaze flicks from the window to me then she crosses her arms. “Hunter’s in there.”

  “Um, yeah, I know.” I adjust the handle of my backpack. “I wasn’t watching him, though.” Liar. I was totally watching him.

  Her brow meticulously arches. “Bullshit. I saw you drive off today with Hunter in his car.”

  “Well, I was technically with Harlow, Hunter’s sister—”

  “I know who Hunter’s sister is,” she cuts me off, stepping toward me. “Everyone does. Everyone also knows she’s a freak. So if you’re hanging out with her, that makes you a freak. At least, by a technicality.”

  So over this conversation, I lift my brows. “Okay, I’m gonna go.” I move to step around her, but she grabs ahold of my arm.

  “Stay away from Hunter,” she warns, gripping my arm tightly.

  I roughly jerk away from her then lean in. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

  She glares at me, and I glare right back before walking off.

  Dude, Hunter was right. She is a crazy lunatic. I’m just glad I decided to go to lunch with Harlow today and not sit down in the cafeteria with her friends.

  Once I leave crazy pants behind, I leave the school and embark on the lovely journey home. Okay, lovely might be a stretch. Well, the scenery isn’t bad, shifting from quaint shops and stores to farmland the farther I walk. But the walk itself is exhausting. And boring.

  I’m about one step away from lighting up, even if it means risking getting busted, when I receive a message. I dig out my phone and read it, half-expecting it to be from that unknown number. But it’s from Harlow.

  Harlow: Hey! So, I forgot to tell you that if you ever need a ride to school or anything, just let me know. I usually drive myself, but sometimes my dad makes me use the driver. Either way, though, I’m cool with giving you a ride.

  A driver? Holy freakin’ what the crap?

  Still …

  Me: Actually, I’d love a ride. That way I don’t have to rely on my aunt or my cousin or take the bus.

  Harlow: Yeah, you definitely don’t want to take the bus. I’ve heard horror stories about them.

  Me: I’ve rode the bus before, and I can assure you that all those stories are probably true.

  Harlow: I’ll have to take your word for it, because there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to ride the bus.r />
  Me: Smart thinking.

  Harlow: That’s because I’m smart.

  I’m smiling at this point, and it feels pretty damn good, even if the air is getting a bit chilly and my feet are starting to hurt.

  Harlow: Also, I was wondering if you wanted to go to this thing with me this weekend. It’s kind of like a club, but not really.

  Me: Sounds a bit sketchy. ;)

  Harlow: Not sketchy. Just mysterious.

  While her texts are a little strange, it’s not like I have anything better to do this weekend. Plus, it might be fun to get out and do something. And get away from The House of Horrors.

  Me: All right, count me in.

  Harlow: Sweet! And if you really want, you can invite my brother to go.

  Me: Why would I do that?

  Harlow: Oh, don’t play stupid. I know you guys clicked at lunch.

  She tops off the text with a smoochy face.

  Me: We did not! We’re just friends.

  Harlow: Hmm … You know there’s an art to that sort of stuff, right?

  Me: What sort of stuff?

  Harlow: Just being friends with someone you’re attracted to. And my brother, while an artist in many things, does not possess those skills.

  I shake my head. She’s getting confused. There’s no way Hunter is attracted to me. And he was the one who said we should be friends.

  Me: I really think you’re getting this wrong. Your brother doesn’t see me like that.

  Harlow: Believe what you want, but it’s totally true. And if you don’t want to invite him, you don’t have to. I just thought I’d throw the idea out there like a good BFF.

  Me: Well, thanks, I guess.

  Harlow: You’re totally welcome. I gotta go. My dad is making me organize his files. TTYL

  By the time we finish texting, I have a huge smile on my face. But that smile fades when I glance up and see that I’ve arrived at my house. Not that I’m not relieved that I no longer have to walk, but I have this unsettling feeling. Maybe because all the lights are off in the house. Or maybe because Dixie May hasn’t gotten her revenge on me for not meeting her at lunch. Or perhaps it’s because my aunt is pissed off at me.