by Arthurs, Nia
So I lingered on her.
Everything about her was beautiful. Her smile. Her laughter. Even her weird ticks. Like the way she crinkled her nose when she was amused and wanted to hide it. The way she sucked on her lower lip when she was deep in thought. The way her gaze skittered when she was shy.
I lost focus of the road ahead.
And, somehow, I found myself in front of Monique’s apartment when I looked up again.
My body stilled.
I shut the engine, struggling to remember making any conscious decisions to return to town or stop by this building.
Before I could drive off, I saw Monique and her mother strolling toward me. I ducked and listened to their footsteps fade.
A minute passed.
Two.
I eased my head up and peeked through the window to make sure they hadn’t noticed me lurking.
The coast was clear.
I let out a breath and looked forward. A dark figure stood outlined in the light from the lampposts. My eyes widened and I almost jumped. The figure stalked to the side of my car.
Monique.
She rapped on the window with her knuckles and mouthed, “Get out.”
I opened the door carefully as she stepped back and gave me room. Fury still lingered in her eyes. She folded her arms over her chest and craned her neck to look up at me, an eyebrow arched in silent inquiry.
“Did you help your mom out at the restaurant again?” I asked.
“What are you doing, James?”
“I don’t know. I was driving and I ended up here.” I sensed her impatience and sighed. “Monique, I’m sorry about earlier. Can we just make up and forget about it?”
“No, we can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“What?” My jaw fell. “It’s not like I cheated on you with anyone. They’re just pictures.” Her nose flared and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. “Monique, I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize, okay?”
“I asked for space. Please leave and don’t come back.”
“I’m putting my pride out on the line here,” I hissed. “What do you want from me?”
“Go away.”
Hurt flared in my chest, but I refused to show it. “Fine. Have all the space you want.” I stormed to my car and got in, leaving Monique in the dust. I hit the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. An incredible pain started in my middle and spread to my arms and fingers.
I wanted to leave Pine Hill again, but I drove home because my car was almost out of gas.
When I stepped inside, the living room lights were off. I headed to the kitchen and grabbed a mug to pour myself some water. Then my gaze caught on my parents’ liquor collection. I abandoned the water pitcher and headed for the scotch.
After pouring myself a glass, I guzzled it down. The liquor burned my throat but was warm on its way down. I waited for the relaxing sensation to pull me away, but it didn’t. Every strain of anger and regret still seared my veins.
I slammed the cup back on the counter and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Grabbing my keys, I slipped it into my pocket and bounded up the stairs.
A crash shattered the air.
I paused, my gaze zipping to my parents’ room. A woman screamed. It was enough to get me moving. I shot up the steps and flung myself against their door.
It shuddered but held.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Mom screamed.
“Stop!” I yelled and banged on the door. “Stop!”
Something else thudded.
My fingers curled around the knob. I jangled it and slammed my shoulder against the wood.
It splintered.
“Mom!” I yelled.
“James, it’s okay!” Mom’s voice trembled. “It’s—”
A resounding slap cut her words off.
Panic boiled in my stomach. “Mom!”
The door groaned as I rammed my shoulder into the wood until it gave way. I stumbled into my parents’ room, my gaze landed on my mother. She was sprawled on the floor, her thin legs spread out and her cheek pressed against the tile. Dad stood over her, shirt wrinkled and tie undone. His hands were on his hips.
I flew at him, slamming my fist into his face. A satisfying ‘crack’ punctuated the movement. My knuckles burned. I might have broken something, but I was pretty sure I’d done more damage to him than myself.
“James!” Mom shrieked.
Dad’s fingers hovered over his jaw. A bruise spread across the pale skin beneath his stubble. He sneered and whipped his head toward me. Fire blazed in his eyes. “Do you want to die, boy?”
“Let’s both die tonight. I’m okay with that.”
“It’s my fault.” Mom crawled on her knees in front of me. Limp strands of her hair covered her flushed face. Her T-shirt hung off one shoulder. I could see the bruises creeping up her arms and neck.
My rage intensified.
Enough. I’ve had enough.
“Stop it, Natasha.” Dad eased his head back and closed his eyes as if he couldn’t deal with either of us anymore. “Just tell me why you took so much money out of the account. Who did you give it to?”
“I told you,” Mom whispered from the floor. “Our charity—”
Dad slapped her.
Mom went flying.
I saw her body soaring across the room like she weighed nothing. Like she was some test dummy being torn apart by a pit bull. I didn’t bother checking to make sure she was alright. I tackled my father.
We both slammed into the ground.
I climbed on top of him and moved before he could find his footing. My fingers balled into fists and I hit him. Over and over. My knuckles turned red. From his blood or mine. I didn’t know. Didn’t care.
“James! Stop! You’re hurting him! Stop!” Someone flung themselves against my back. Tiny fists pummeled me, shoved me hard.
I rolled off Dad and jumped to my feet, stunned when I saw my mother with her bloodied lip and cheeks stamped by my father’s hand nudging him up. In that moment, blinding hatred for both of them consumed me.
Dad shook Mom off and stood on his own. He swiped his busted lip with a hand and snarled. “Get out of my house, boy.”
“Darius!”
“You think you’re a man? Face the world on your own and see how tough it is.”
My sneakers brushed the tile as I backed away.
“Get out!” Dad grabbed the nightstand, hiked it into the air and threw it at me. It crashed against the wall. His face reddened and he raged like a maniac, searching for something else to throw. “You’re no longer my son. You hear? You’re not mine!”
“Stop!” Mom shrieked. Tears streamed down her face. “You don’t mean that, Darius!”
I glanced at her, completely ignoring my father. “ You’ll never choose me, will you?”
Mom looked away.
Darkness shrouded me. I started to laugh. It was a hopeless, hollow sound.
Finally, I pulled myself together and nodded. “Have it your way. I’ll be out of your hair.”
“James!” Mom called, but even after I packed my bags, opened the front door and left, she never showed up to bring me back.
22
MY MIND WON’T CHANGE
Monique
“You’re quiet this morning.” Angie gripped the sides of the headrest and watched me. The truck went over a speed bump and she shot Harley a look of contempt before meeting my gaze. “Are you angry because I called shotgun?”
“I told you Monique always rides up front,” Harley mumbled.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t care where I sit. I’m just glad for the ride.”
“Then what’s with the long face? Your melanin is usually popping, but—I don’t know—you look kind of pale and sick.”
“Me? Pale?” I brought up my hands. My very black hands. “Where?”
“I’m not saying you’re at Harley-levels—”
“Hey!” Harl
ey yelled.
“But,” Angie continued, “something’s wrong. Since you got into the car this morning, you haven’t said one word. You keep staring out the window like you’re in some anxiety pill commercial. It’s weird.”
“Am I talking too much about the rally?” Harley asked.
I forced a smile and met his worried gaze in the rearview mirror. “Of course not. It’s your first gig at school so I don’t mind.”
Angie tilted her head. Her thick braids fell over her slim shoulder. “I do. He’s been going on about it for days.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish I had a boyfriend who’d distract me from this torture.”
Harley laughed. “That’s a nice dream.”
“Care to expand on that?”
“Who’d want to date you?” Harley asked. “Honestly? Give me one name.”
“Last I heard, girls aren’t lining up to date you either, Blondie.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Harley said.
“Why? Because you’re in a band now?” Angie snorted. “Good luck with that. James was the babe magnet. Who do you have left?” She paused and said thoughtfully, “Well, Baz is kinda cute.”
Harley flexed an arm. “What about me? I’ve been working out.”
Angie snorted. “Please.”
I leaned back and listened to them trade insults, glad that Angie had abandoned her interrogation. Last night, I forbid myself from crying, but I’d woken up to puffy eyes anyway. I had to cake on the makeup to hide the signs. Obviously, my disguise wasn’t good enough.
Harley parked in his usual place behind the school. I sucked in a deep breath and climbed out of the vehicle, joining my friends in the warmth of the sunshine. Simply being around them made me feel ten times better than I had last night.
As long as I didn’t see James today, I’d be fine.
Angie stretched. “I’m so glad today’s Friday. I need a break.”
“From what?” Harley asked. “Sleeping in class?”
I sighed. “Come on, guys. Can I get one minute of peace? Please.”
“Fine.” Angie trotted toward me and linked arms. She leaned over to say something when her eyes caught on a familiar car roaring into the yard. “Hey, look! It’s James!”
I stiffened.
James shut the engine and climbed out. He wore a blue T-shirt and jeans. A pair of shades hid his eyes from view.
My heart jerked.
“James!” Angie hollered.
I whirled on her. “Don’t!”
“James!” Angie raised her arm and kept on screaming until James turned around and watched us.
I slapped her hand down. “Leave him alone.”
“What are you talking about? He’s your boyfriend and thus he is obligated to pretend to like me.”
James’s lips collapsed into a thin line. He turned in one smooth motion and strode away without acknowledging any of us.
Angie’s jaw dropped.
Harley seethed. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
“It’s nothing.” I tugged my backpack strap higher and walked forward. “Just forget it.”
“Are you two fighting? Why’d he diss us like that?”
“Angie, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“He cheated, didn’t he?” Harley’s jaw clenched. “I told you that guy was bad news. Ever since that scandal with Marissa—”
“Stop!” I covered my eyes. “Would you both just stop?”
Angie ran her hand over my arm soothingly. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
“We…”
“What?” Angie coaxed.
“You broke up?” Harley asked.
I shrugged. “We’re taking a break.”
“That explains the brush off.” Angie winced. “Are you sure it’s just a break? Because any guy who intends to get back with a girl wouldn’t treat her like that.”
I shrugged.
Harley gritted his teeth. “We should head to class.”
“Harley,” I clutched his arm to hold him back, “don’t do anything stupid.”
He shook me off and stalked ahead. Angie and I exchanged worried glances. My heart was swelling like a deep bruise. I couldn’t deal with my best friend adding fuel to an already raging fire.
“I’ll talk to him.” Angie squeezed my hand. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
The bell rang.
She grinned and flicked something out of her pocket.
It was a pack of cigarettes.
“Wanna ditch class and have a smoke break?”
I laughed, my first genuine one since morning. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass.”
“Alright, but don’t be afraid to call me if you need a break—with cigarettes involved or not. I know how hard it is to be rejected by someone you love. I’m here for you.”
I gave her a hug. “Thanks.”
Angie walked me to my class where I—for the second day in a row—missed everything that was taught.
When the bell rang, I woodenly gathered my books and headed into the hallway. I’d skipped breakfast, but I wasn’t hungry so I texted Angie and Harley to let them know that I wouldn’t be meeting them for lunch.
My phone blew up immediately. I knew my friends would go crazy trying to find me, but I ignored it. Right now, the best thing for me was being alone.
The only place where one could find solitude in this school was the roof. The principal had banned students from the roof ever since a girl committed suicide by jumping off, but I had discovered a way past the barricades last year.
I tiptoed toward the staircase, checking left and right for spying eyes.
I was alone.
Tentatively, I took the stairs and then wiggled past the iron chains until I was completely on the other side. From there, it was easy to run the rest of the way and push the heavy iron door. A moment later, I stumbled into the sunshine.
The sky was a brilliant blue and fluffy clouds slipped by, close enough to touch. The campus sprawled before me, a green and brown patchwork quilt that overlooked the front lawn.
I walked forward, closing my eyes as the wind tugged at my shirt and ruffled my hair. My heart was still twisted in knots but at least I could breathe normally. It felt like I hadn’t taken a good breath since I stormed out of James’s house yesterday.
“Monique Hughes,” a voice said.
My eyes shot open. I swung around, my gaze colliding with Alex. He stood on the opposite end of the roof. Beer cans littered his feet. The wind blew harshly and shot a waft of his liquor-scented breath over to me.
Alex smirked. “What is with you and showing up places you don’t belong?”
“This time, I can say the same about you.”
He tilted the beer bottle in his hand and laughed. “Yeah, I suppose you can.”
“I thought I was the only one who knew about this place.”
“Guess not.”
“What are you doing here? Got tired of the basement?” I asked.
“I got kicked out so the band could practice. I was hoping to find some peace and quiet.”
“I can leave.”
“No.” He trotted toward me. “Stay.”
I kicked at a piece of loose gravel to hide my awkwardness. Alex flirted with me that night at the club, but he hadn’t made any other advances since then. After everything that had happened, I thought I could trust him.
But I didn’t trust him enough to discuss my break-up with James.
“How’s Lauren?” I asked when the silence became too much. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. We’re looking for an apartment to rent in the meanwhile, but it’s hard to find a building that will accept so many cats.”
“What about the store?”
He shrugged. “We’re going to rebuild.”
“How? Did Lauren have insurance?” I’m surprised and unable to hide it. The impression Lauren gave was that she didn’t ha
ve any money left to invest in the business, and I just assumed that meant she didn’t have insurance.
“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’re receiving a grant from the Natasha Sawyer Foundation. Apparently, the Sawyers believe in local shops and literature so they’re taking care of all the expenses.”
“You don’t sound happy about that.”
“Imagine someone punched you in the face and then tossed money at you without apologizing.” His eyes darkened. “How would you feel?”
“That makes sense.” I paused. “Wait, are you insinuating that the Sawyers ‘punched’ you by starting the fire?”
Alex said nothing.
“That’s ridiculous. Why would they do that?”
“I guess James didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Alex took a sip of his beer. “The night of the fire, his dad wrote me a check and told me to get out of town.”
“Lauren was almost killed,” I said in horror. “Would Darius be that slimy?”
“James didn’t seem to think so. He stuck up for his old man. I tried to see it from his perspective. The last thing I want is my biological father trying to murder my sister because of me. But who else would intentionally set our building on fire?”
I groaned softly. No wonder James took off after talking to Alex that night. I knew he was acting weird since the fire, but I didn’t think it was anything serious. Did James suspect Darius just like Alex did?
“Lately,” Alex said, “I’ve been wondering if I should have just stayed clueless rather than look for my father.”
I nodded to the beer in his grip. “That why you’re getting drunk on school property?”
“You want one?”
“I’m good.”
He smirked. “I wasn’t going to give you anyway.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. You didn’t answer my question.”
He looked over the school thoughtfully. “I’m not gonna lie. The money would go a long way in putting me back on my feet. I didn’t become a teacher because it’s my passion. My heart is in producing music.”
“And Darius’s check would give you an opportunity to live your dream.”
