by Ivy Fox
Let me just pencil ‘going to lame-ass-snob-infested birthday parties’ in the con column.
Hmm. Maybe making a little list isn’t a bad idea.
I wave Chad’s parents goodbye and start the route back home. The whole subway ride back, I begin thinking about the pros and cons of going to such a school and listing them out in my head.
Spending more time with Boy Scout every day.
That no-brainer goes in the pro column.
Elle would fucking hate me being on her turf and taking the spotlight away from her.
This definitely goes in the pro column as well.
I’d have to wear a fucking uniform.
Coming home to the projects in that monkey suit falls in the cons, no question about it. I’d have to change somewhere before going home if I don’t want to get my ass kicked, and that’s a damn hassle.
I’d have to deal with pricks who think they’re better than me—con.
Fewer chances at getting shot or jumped—pro.
The curriculum must be hard AF—con.
Momma would be proud—pro.
Dad would whip my ass if he knew I was seriously considering going to such an elitist school—con.
Shit.
This is harder than I thought.
I’m still up in my head, juggling all the pros and cons as I walk the two-block distance between the subway and the projects. I rush my steps to my building when my eyes catch sight of a few Latin Kings drinking forties at a nearby bench.
Putting as much distance as I can from them falls in the pro column.
I walk up the dimly lit flights of stairs, immune to the soundtrack of babies crying, loud hip-hop music, and heated arguments taking place on each floor I pass by. Once I step into the ugly yellow-green tiled hall that leads to my tiny apartment, my shoulders instantly slump seeing my next-door neighbor’s kid sitting outside.
Maya’s head is down, her frizzy auburn hair in her eyes as she continues to furiously write down something in her little notebook with a joke of a pencil. The damn thing isn’t bigger than my thumb, yet along with her tattered notebook, it’s probably her most cherished possession.
“You got locked outside again, kid?” I ask, poking her foot with the tip of mine, making her aware of my presence.
She looks up at me with large jade eyes, awkward embarrassment tainting their beauty. Maya shakes her head and then bows back down again to her notebook before giving me an answer.
“Mom’s working.”
Shit.
When I tell people my mom is working, there is no shame behind the statement. The same can’t be said for most kids in the East River projects. Maya, unfortunately, falls in that category. I slide next to her, glancing over at her apartment door, glad that no sound is coming from inside.
Silver linings and all that jazz.
“Your Pops in there with her?”
She nods, her pencil still scribbling away. “He needs to make sure she gets paid afterward.”
I bet he does. Fucking crackhead junkies.
“Are you doing homework or something? School hasn’t even started yet, kid,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood and spare us having to talk about what’s happening inside her home.
“It’s not homework. Just a story I got in my head that I need to write down before I forget.”
“Can I see?”
She shrugs but hands the generic black and white notebook to me. I’m not the type of guy who enjoys reading or even has time for it, but Maya’s little tale has me enraptured. The story is about a fearless princess who ventures into a deep magical forest to slay a dragon who has been terrorizing her kingdom. It’s good, even if a little cheesy.
“This is good, kid,” I tell her, handing back her notebook.
“No, it’s not.” She shakes her head. “But it will be. Someday.”
My throat tightens, thinking that these are probably the same words she tells herself every day about her own life.
Someday things will be better.
Someday.
Shit.
Maya doesn’t have a shot. Sooner or later, her parents will make her earn their smack, renting her body out like a Seven-Eleven. I’m surprised they haven’t already. Maya is a big girl, which makes her look more like a woman than the rest of the junkies living on our floor, with their thin, brittle bodies and sunken hollow faces. She’s smart, though, in covering her feminine curves in large hoodies and track pants. But the minute her parents realize Maya isn’t a little girl anymore, they’ll force her to give away her innocence for a hit.
Who am I kidding?
When you’re born as poor as we are, innocence is something that goes out the window the minute you open your eyes. And for kids like Maya, being innocent is a dangerous luxury she can’t afford to hold on to.
Fuck.
She’s just a damn kid. Just a little older than Elle. But while Princess lives in her high tower, looking down at her subordinates, chaste and holding on to her virtue, girls like Maya hold on to theirs by praying every night that no one comes into their bedroom and steals it away from them. It’s not fucking fair how money is always the predominant determiner of whether you make it or not in this world. Those who have it get every golden opportunity to succeed, while those who don’t get scraps to fill their stomachs—used and abused, only to be discarded like trash afterward.
My head bounces back against the wall, hating how some of us got the short straw in this game of life just by being born dirt poor.
“Are you going to River Heights next month?” Maya asks, unaware of the thoughts plaguing my mind.
“I don’t think so,” I mumble.
“Where are you going to go then?”
“Pembroke High.”
“Sure you are.” She giggles. “And I’m going to a fancy boarding school in England. My chauffeur is on his way now to pick me up so I can go on my private jet over there.”
Maya continues to chuckle away at my ludicrous statement while going back to writing.
“How about you put a pin in boarding school and come with me to Pembroke instead?” I ask, nudging her shoulder with mine.
She puts her pencil down in the center of her notebook and stares at me like she’s never seen me before.
“You’re serious? Are you really going to Pembroke High?” She licks her dry, chapped lips expectantly, all wide-eyed and envious.
“I am, kid. So do you want to come with me or what?”
“Don’t even play me like that, Saint. It isn’t funny.” She huffs bitterly, thinking my offer a cruel joke.
“Not playing, kid. The offer on the table is real. You want it or not?”
She bites the end of her thumb, the urgent desire to say yes so blatantly apparent, yet fear that I’m toying with her keeps the word trapped in her mouth.
“Pack your shit up,” I order, pushing myself back up to my feet.
“Why? Where are we going?” she asks excitedly, stuffing her things inside her raggedy old backpack.
“You’ll see.”
Maya looks up at me skeptically, but when I hold out my hand, she trustingly grabs hold of it.
That’s another thing about living where we do. We don’t trust easily, and for Maya to give that to me only strengthens my resolve in what I’m going to do next. Not once does she ask me where I’m taking her the whole way back to the Murphys. My stomach twists into a ball of nerves at how desperate she is for some kind of miracle to happen in her life. I just hope I can deliver.
When the concierge lets me into the Murphys’ swanky apartment building, Maya’s anxiety is at an all-time high, coming at me in waves. But she doesn’t say a word, schooling her features to look cool and collected. She knows as well as I do that showing fear will get you killed, even if the circumstances don’t call for it.
When I ring the doorbell and Aunt Maggie opens the door, Maya’s shoulders instantly relax, recognizing the wo
man in front of her. I can’t help but lean down into Maya’s ear and smirk.
“I’m not gonna steal your organs, kid. Just relax,” I tease.
She elbows me in the gut, but her bright smile makes an appearance.
“Santiago. Maya. What are you two doing here?” my aunt questions, perplexed.
“Hey, Tía. Just needed to clear some things up with the Murphys. I got a little proposition for them. They here?”
Her brows furrow, but she widens the door to let us pass.
“Of course, they are. They’re having dinner as you should be at this hour,” she accuses, pointing to her watch.
Maya’s stomach decides to grumble at that very moment, making me wonder when the last time the girl had a decent meal was. As my aunt leads us inside, I make a note to use the five bucks I have in my pocket to take Maya out to McDonalds to celebrate. However, when we reach the Murphys’ dining room, the spread laid out on the table instantly reminds me that Maya isn’t the only one of us fucking starving.
“Santiago, is everything alright?” Doc asks worriedly, quickly getting up from her seat.
She only stops when I hold out my hand to keep her in place.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Doc. Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Boy Scout chimes in, his big emerald eyes curiously scanning Maya up and down.
“I’m sure. I just popped by to discuss something with you. About the Pembroke scholarship we were talking about earlier.”
Immediately, Doc’s grin replaces her previous concerned expression, demonstrating how pleased she is about the subject at hand.
“Mags, let me help you add two more plates to the table. I think we can all eat while we talk,” Derek states, standing up from his seat to make room for us.
Just like Chad, the man is a fucking saint, pinpointing exactly what a person needs without anyone having to come out and ask for it. Maya’s head stays bowed down, going to great pains not to make any eye contact with anyone. She fiddles with the end of her hoodie, completely uncomfortable with such affluent surroundings, wondering why the hell I brought her here in the first place.
“Sit, kid. They won’t bite,” I whisper to her, slapping the seat beside me so she can take a hint. “Eat up.”
She does as she’s told, eyeing up the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans like it’s the second coming. My aunt fixes her plate, noticing how Maya wouldn’t have done it on her own. I tilt my chin to her again, silently telling her that she can go to town on her food. It’s only when she sees me biting into my drumstick that she ventures having a taste.
“Well? The suspense is killing me. Have you come to a decision?” Doc insists, not wanting to waste another minute.
Jesus, this woman is way too thirsty when it comes to helping me get my shit together.
“I’ve been thinking about it.” I rub my thumb on my bottom lip. “I’m cool with the idea of going to Boy Scout’s school with all the other preppies on their dime. But I’ve got one condition.”
“Of course, you do,” Doc snickers, leaning against her seat. “Well, let’s hear it then.”
“I’ll only go if Maya here comes with me.”
Maya almost chokes on her chicken at my statement, grabbing a glass of water to push the remainder of her food down her throat.
“Since you didn’t make any introduction, I assume your friend here must be Maya.”
I offer a stiff nod in reply. On bated breath, we all watch as Doc and her husband stare at each other, having their own silent conversation. I swallow dryly, hoping I didn’t just fuck myself into a corner with my demands. Up to this moment, I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to go. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing, after all, to push my luck with them. But if push comes to shove and they tell me that only one scholarship is up for grabs, then I’ll have to turn it down and insist they help Maya get it instead of me. I can deal with going to River Heights. I can deal with the shit that comes from living in the projects. It doesn’t scare me. But if I can give Maya an opportunity to make something of herself and get out of the life imposed on her, then it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. If someone doesn’t look out for the kid, then she’ll end up being another crack whore like her momma before she even graduates.
“There aren’t many scholarships available,” Doc begins to say apologetically, confirming my suspicions. “I’m not sure the school would be willing to accept another nomination from us.”
“If they don’t, then we’ll pay her tuition,” Chad announces, silencing the room.
My heart starts pounding in my chest as Boy Scout pushes his chair back and makes his way over to us. He holds his hand out, offering it to a wide-eyed Maya to shake, but the frizzy-haired scarecrow looks up at me with hesitation.
“You don’t have to be afraid, kid. Boy Scout is good people.” I wink at him.
“I’m Chad, by the way.”
“Maya,” she whispers, still not sure if she should give him her trust or not.
“It’s nice to meet you, Maya. You must be very special to Saint.”
“Hmm, I guess.” She shyly bows her head to her half-eaten plate.
I furrow my brow at his remark.
Is Maya special to me?
Maybe.
But only in the way that all the kids in my neighborhood are. We all need a savior. And if I can be that for her, then why the fuck not? But as the idea festers in my head, I realize someone already saved me, or at least they are trying their best to—the Murphys. In their own particular way, they all are trying to give me something I never dreamed would be possible—a future without guns, drugs, or prison. For a kid like me, that’s like winning the Powerball.
“So, it’s settled then. We’ll pay for Maya’s tuition, and both of you will come study at Pembroke High with me,” Chad repeats, his pearly white smile beaming proudly at me.
He didn’t ask his parents for permission. He just stated it as an irrefutable fact.
And that’s when I see it.
His green eyes flicker, not only with pride for what I’ve done but also glow with something deeper.
And fuck if it doesn’t warm my heart and terrify me to death.
Because it’s in this very moment, right here, that I realize I’m in love with the asshole.
Chapter 10
Elle
“Where are you going off to in such a rush?” Rome utters from behind me, stopping my quick getaway.
Damn it.
I turn around, putting on my best innocent smile just so my big brother doesn’t go all alpha on me while simultaneously inching my way closer to the door.
“I’m just popping over to Lace’s place this afternoon. She’s having a small get-together to celebrate us starting at Pembroke next week,” I answer overly sweet.
“You look pretty dressed up for just a hang out at Lace Manning’s house, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean by that?” I counter, insulted, placing my hands on my hips, looking down at the cute polka-dotted fifties dress that I’m wearing. “What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong, Elle. It’s just… well, that dress kind of makes you look older, that’s all.”
“Geez, thanks. You make it sound like I’m on death’s door or something.” I scoff, pretending to be offended, while in reality, I’m doing handstands for having perfected my vintage look.
“Is that lipstick you’ve got on? You know what? I don’t even want to know,” he mumbles under his breath.
“See ya!” I wave, hurrying off before he has time to stop me.
“Wait up now, Elle.”
Shit on a stick. I was so close.
I turn around to face him, my shoulders instantly slumping with the nostalgic look in his amber eyes. It’s when Rome changes tactics from being the authoritarian big brother to the kind-hearted one that I know he’s not going to let me go to t
his party without a fight. It’s that damn soft expression on his face that always makes my nerves of steel begin to falter. He’s the only brother that I find myself ill-equipped to give a hard time. It’s easy busting the twins’ balls. We’re practically the same age, so no way would I ever take either of them seriously when bossing me around.
But with Roman…
He’s the glue that keeps this family from sinking into the Hudson River. He protects us from our father at every turn, making sure that the Judge’s influence can never taint our fragile souls. Denying my brother anything is challenging for me, and he knows it. I usually don’t mind since Rome always has my back. The only thing we seem to butt heads about recently is his refusal to accept that I’m no longer his kid sister. I’m a flourishing teenager coming into her own, with a strong will and an even more stubborn mindset. Guess that’s also a Grayson flaw we both share in spades.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to hang out with Addison and me? We can binge Supernatural on Netflix and eat ice cream. What do you say, rugrat? Stay. It’ll be way more fun than being over at the Manning’s place.”
And as if Rome summoned the devil herself just by saying her name, Addison Hurst appears from behind him. The parasite wraps her arms around his waist, staking her claim. I hate to say it, but no amount of hard salt from the Winchester brothers could keep her demon claws away from my brother.
“Tell her, Addy,” Rome insists, pleased with the idea of having his best girls spend the afternoon with him.
My gaze trails over the girl who now stands shoulder to shoulder with my beloved brother. She’s trying hard to hide her unmistakable disapproval at the idea of sharing Rome for even one second with the fakest of smiles. Like I’d want to hang around that skank on a Saturday. I really don’t understand what Rome sees in her. She’s a total fake. When Rome is watching, she acts like she’s sweet as apple pie, but the moment he turns his back, her bitch face grows wings.
