by A. M. Brooks
“Nora!” Jodi’s voice erupts from the kitchen. She glides in and hands a wine bottle to my dad. Next thing I know, she’s wrapped around me and the feeling is so comfortable I can forget for a second the shit going on around me.
“Hi Jodi,” I say, hugging her back. She smells like a clean, expensive perfume and a touch of the fruity wine she likes to drink.
“I’m so happy to see you.” She pulls back from me, scanning me from head to toe. “You look so pretty. How was your first day? Did you like your room?” She fires off questions energetically, I can’t stop smiling either.
“Jod,” my dad chastises from the couch. “Let the poor kid breathe, she just got home.”
“Mark,” she says in a way that’s pretending to be threatening. My dad holds his hand up in surrender, but he’s still smiling.
“It was eventful,” I answer. There is no other way to describe the shit show of a day I had. At least I didn’t cry though. “Uh, my classes are awesome. And yes, I really like what you did with my room. Thank you, it means a lot to me,” I tell her.
She smiles and winks at me. “I’m glad I could help. This place needed a little more of a home vibe and I had the summer off.”
“Well thanks,” I say again. “It’s perfect.” And it saved me agonizing tears followed by a ceremonial destruction of silky pink material with scissors. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to do my homework then go to bed,” I announce instead.
“Homework on the first day?” Jodi questions.
“Seniors,” I explain, nodding to my backpack. “Every class introduction included a paragraph page about how this class will help me prepare for college.”
“Wow,” my dad says, whistling. “Going all out on you this year—”
“Speaking of,” Jodi interrupts. “Have you heard back from anywhere yet?”
“Not yet.” I shrug. “I heard its closer to Thanksgiving when people start receiving acceptance letters.”
“Oh, okay,” Jodi says. I can tell she seems bummed. We’re all waiting to see where I’ll be accepted. I only applied to three colleges as my first choices. I secretly avoid my email throughout the day because I’m nervous to see an acceptance more than a rejection. It doesn’t make sense and I do not share my thoughts with anyone about this.
“Night,” I call to them before jogging up the stairs. Their voices call back to me, but I’m too preoccupied to respond again. The chill from before clings to my skin and I decide to soak in my tub before working on my paragraphs. The water turns my skin pink from how hot the heat is on before I start to feel the chill leave my bones. I’m being watched. I know I am. I have to force my mind to believe that I’m safe and that Darrian is handling this. Surprisingly, this helps keep the panic below the surface again.
When my thoughts are under control, I pull myself out and throw on a pair of sweats and a tank. I do my best to give convincing answers to the bogus questions every teacher asked today. Truthfully, I don’t think any of the classes I’m taking are going to prepare me for college. Give me some basic knowledge, yes, prepare me…no way. College is another game entirely. By the time I’m done lying to my teachers, my phone reads ten-thirty. A single text message from Darrian sits in my inbox. My blood spikes with adrenaline and without thinking, I swipe to open.
Darrian: My house 8pm tomorrow.
Me: K
Darrian: …
I hold my breath waiting for the bubbles to stop dancing.
Darrian: Goodnight Nora
I exhale reading the words one more time. My finger freezes over the keyboard as I decide if I should answer or not. Nothing good will come from replying to him. I set my phone down. I’m scared he’ll think he’s won and will bulldoze me over if I give in. Frustrated and confused, I lie down and shut off my light. The room is instantly plunged into darkness and the fear from earlier creeps back in. My body leaps up, switching on the lamp again. “Seriously Nora,” I murmur to myself before settling back down and pulling the covers tightly. I close my eyes and concentrate on the faint noise of the TV downstairs. Jodi and my dad take turns laughing and talking about whatever they are watching. The sound is soothing and takes me far away for the night.
The second day of my senior day drags on and on. I’m thankful we aren’t too far into lessons yet as my brain can only concentrate on what is happening tonight at Darrian’s. Ethan and Elijah’s presence is comforting today. This should alarm me, but I’m already a nervous pile of anxiety. Instead, I draw strength from Elijah’s smirk and let the calm from Ethan’s easy laugh wash over me. I avoid Camilla and am hyperaware that Trent and Lily form a barrier around me at lunch. A few times I see Shea eyeing us. and I smile at her to lighten the mood. She is often more intuitive than I give her credit for.
When the last bell rings, I power walk to my vehicle before following Lily to the beach. Her motto lately has been that the waves will fix everything. As I pull my arms through the black wet suit, I eye the chaos just beyond the shoreline. Excitement runs in my veins. I grip the board tighter and hold my breath when the first wave crashes against my stomach.
“It’s a little cold.” Lily laughs, and I shoot daggers at her with my eyes. It’s more than cold. Not the bone searing chill from the northwestern coast but definitely not as warm as the summer months. I suck it up though and follow her under the next wave until we’re far enough out. My soul starts to reline a little as I rock back and forth on my board, waiting for the next perfect set.
“This was a great idea,” I tell her. The excitement on her face mirrors mine. Instead of answering, she gives me the rock sign with her hand and sticks her tongue out. We laugh and it feels so good to be alive right now. My body knows to react without much thought and soon I’m soaring over the water, gliding toward the shore. The wind whips the small hairs around my forehead, and I lean into it, pushing myself faster and harder. The adrenaline keeps the high in my body alive as we catch wave after wave until I’m weak and my cheeks ache from smiling.
“Head in?” Lily asks. My beautiful friend’s eyes are shining with excitement. I know she isn’t looking forward to being in the same room tonight with Ethan. She needed this as much as I did.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “Let’s go.” We paddle back in with the waves. The minute my feet hit the sand, I feel my legs shaking from exhaustion. “Shit.” I bite my lip while trying to get my body to function normally again.
“Sea legs?” Lily lifts her eyebrow. She looks a little steadier than I am. I nod instead of answering, deciding to save my breath for the long, inclined walk back to the parking lot.
“It gets easier,” Lily says, lifting her shoulder toward the ocean. We don’t speak the rest of the way back.
After my board is holstered back in place, I climb in and crank the heat. Despite the wet suit, my body is chilled. The clock on the dash reads six o’clock. Two hours to go. I turn up Camila Cabello’s “OMG” and drive home. The house is empty when I arrive. As usual, I lock the door quickly behind me and dash up to my room. I grab a quick shower and finger dry my hair, hoping to keep some of that saltwater beach curl. When I open my closet, I realize I’m smiling and freeze. What am I doing? This isn’t a date. It’s not even just going to be Darrian and me, and for some reason, I’m agonizing over what to wear. I need a mental slap. I shouldn’t care what I look like in front of him anymore. I shouldn’t want to look amazing and sexy when he sees me…but I do.
“Sick,” I whisper, locking gazes with myself in the mirror. The girl in the reflection looks energized. Her cheeks are tinged pink from the sun, hazel eyes are bright and clear, I look happy. Seeing Darrian tonight shouldn’t make me feel happy. I just want him to see what he gave up on my subconscious replies. I’m going to roll with that. Grabbing my phone, I flip on Niykee Heaton’s “Mascara.” Deciding less is more, I shove my legs into a pair of destroyed denim jeans and cuff the bottoms up. A dark grey crop cut sweatshirt with ‘CREW’ in bold white letters falls over my head and I tug it in place. There i
s a small line of exposed skin between the top of the jeans and the bottom of the sweater, making me feel sexy and comfortable at the same time. The alarm I set previously goes off, letting me know it’s time.
Quickly, I pocket my cell phone and grab my wristlet from my backpack. Taking the stairs two at a time, I slip on my red checkered Vans by the door before slipping outside. The drive to Darrian’s does not take as long as I remember and before I know it, I’m pulling into the U-shaped drive. I let out a sigh of relief when I see that the twins are already here. Headlights behind me make me aware that Trent just arrived.
“Thank God,” I say as he swings over his bike. His laugh is deep and comforting. It’s everything I need right now before walking into this nightmare.
“You ready?” Trent asks as he approaches me, running a hand through his unruly hair.
“You need a haircut,” I tell him, my fingers reaching up to tug the lock that almost falls over his eye.
“Ah, ah,” he scolds, pushing my hand away. “After the next series classic, I will. Can’t mess with the flow right now.”
“That’s right!” I blurt excitedly. “I can still come, right?”
“Yup.” He nods, smiling at my enthusiasm. “I expect you all to be there. And breakfast for dinner afterward to help me get over the loss.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. You are amazing on the track, Trent. We’ll be celebrating a win,” I tell him with confidence.
Trent is fluid when racing his bike. Every turn is flawless, and every trick he throws looks effortless. He has talked many times about going pro right after graduation. Trent is one of those people who doesn’t see the need for college and honestly, he won’t need it if his racing career takes off.
When we get to the door, I hesitate. “Do we ring the bell?” I ask. Usually I was here during a party and would barge my way in.
“I don’t know.” Trent shrugs next to me. “What’s the proper etiquette to discuss gangs, drugs, and the cartel?”
“Screw it,” I breathe out and push open the door. Trent closes the door behind us, and we follow the sound of voices toward the entertainment room. I keep my eyes focused on the door and do not allow myself to look around.
When I reach the door, I hear Ethan’s voice arguing, “It’s a fucking stupid idea, that’s why.”
“Then stop complaining about it if you aren’t going to do anything about it,” Elijah says to him.
“Hey,” I announce, walking in. Two sets of eyes are on me in an instant. The room crackles with tension, the slightest spark waiting to set off an inferno. My gaze moves over the twins who each nod at me but stay silent. When I find Darrian, I realize he hasn’t noticed me. He’s focused though on Trent who walked in behind me, his chest a whisper of fabric against my back.
“Sorry I’m late,” Lily announces as she pushes her way into the room behind us. I hardly notice her though when Darrian’s gaze finally jumps to mine. That inferno is set ablaze from the intensity and need in his eyes. My breathing becomes choppy and I feel a blush start in my cheeks.
“Yeah,” Darrian answers a question I didn’t hear from the blood rushing in my ears. I use this time to avert my eyes and bring my body back under control. I take a seat over by Lily on the complete opposite side of the room as the Kings. Trent is already sitting next to Lily when I sit down. Darrian walks over to where the twins are by the opposite couch and I realize we look like we’ve teamed off. The Kings versus the rest of us.
“So what’s the update?” Lily jumps right in. I look at her for the first time since she arrived. Like me, she went with a casual look. Neither one of us wanting to appear like we actually cared. Her flannel shirt is baggy around her black tank and denim shorts. It’s working for her though. Ethan hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she arrived.
“If only it were that simple,” Elijah says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back over the arm of the chair.
“What does that mean?” I ask. Surprisingly, my voice doesn’t crack or break.
“It’s a shit storm,” Ethan announces, blowing out his breath. He gives me a sympathetic smile. I force myself to turn and look at Darrian again. Panic starts to stir in my stomach when I notice the clench in his jaw. His teeth bite at the silver hoop in his bottom lip.
“It’s not a shit storm,” he argues, easing some of the tension. His eyes focus on the pool cue in his hand. He’s taking his time to assemble his thoughts and what he’s going to say. I want to call him out, to not lie. “Honestly, it’s not great, but law enforcement is on more of it than we thought—”
“That’s good,” Trent says next to me.
“But they are missing key points.” He looks at me when he says the last part. I raise my eyebrows. “Cops know that B+ was being sold in the school last year among other various drugs. What they didn’t know was that some influential families were paying school officials and coaches to look the other way while students used this to also improve their level of play and concentration.”
“Coach?” Ethan asks, he seems just as shocked as we are.
“No.” Darrian shakes his head. “That’s why he quit after last season though. He couldn’t be part of it, but he was too valuable to just let go.”
“Shit,” Trent voices next to me. My thoughts exactly.
“It wasn’t just our school though. B+ was being run all up and down the state to the big-wig schools so their athletes could get scholarships and get recruited. It was a huge moneymaker for the Zero-Thirteen. Pierce is in the ranks of the cartel. Our officials aren’t sure how far in though.”
“And your dad is hearing all this from who now?” I question. This whole scenario seems shady. The idea the parents were willingly letting their kids use and abuse drugs in order to get a scholarship to me is crazy.
“Charles King is good friends with the sheriff’s department,” Darrian responds. His eyes are flat when talking about his dad.
“What about Rom?” Elijah asks. I lean closer, letting my hands grip my knees.
“They had an informant who was willing to testify in Roman’s case about the B+, the faulty B+ and the death of that girl,” he informs us.
“Had?” I ask.
“She went missing two days ago,” Darrian replies.
Panic creeps up my spine. I can feel Darrian’s eyes on me. When I look up, his eyes reflect only concern and worry.
“Great,” Lily responds sarcastically. “Just in time for his sentencing.”
“He’ll likely get a reduced sentence and be out sooner than they thought. They can’t hold him on hearsay.” Elijah pieces it together for us.
A reduced sentence. A girl died from taking the B+ and he’ll get a reduced sentence because they likely bullied the informant. Or killed her. That thought makes my stomach dip with dread and fear. My skin prickles and another rush of anxiety spreads through me.
“I—” I start to say but stop. I take a minute to process what I’m about to say. It’s going to cause some issues once it’s out in the open. Everyone is silent, waiting for me to finish. “Someone’s been watching me,” I throw it out there. Ripping the Band-Aid off. I see Trent’s head whip around to look at me in my peripheral. Lily stops breathing, and all six King eyes are watching me too. Looking at the ceiling, I force myself to keep going. “I thought I was just imagining it at first, you know like when you turn the light off in a dark room and sprint up the stairs, and then I started noticing it more often. When I walk from my vehicle to the door, when I go to school in the morning, when I leave in the afternoon. I’ve noticed another car drive slower past the house at night the minute my light goes out. I have to sleep with a lamp on. I think it’s just to scare me right now.” I stop and look at Darrian. He knows what I’m going to say before I even say it. “Camilla said I’m only the means to a bigger game.”
“That bitch,” Lily mutters quietly. She reaches over and grabs one of my freezing cold hands in hers.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Trent
asks. “I would be there in a second.”
“I know.” I squeeze his arm with my free hand. “I just felt crazy and didn’t want anyone to get hurt if it was something.”
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Ethan nods to Darrian. He shrugs.
“I’m not surprised,” he replies. He was expecting this, but why?
“How are you not fazed by this,” Elijah asks. He’s running his long fingers through his hair.
“It’s something Roman would do,” Darrian mutters. His head bows. “We, ah, I went with him a couple times when he was patting down on people who owed him or owed Pierce. He would talk all the time when we were high about what he liked to do to people when they owed him. Especially women. He liked to scare them. Roman has a lot of shit under him that he was asked by Zero-Thirteen to do.”
I take a few breaths to digest all this. Roman is most likely responsible for more fucked up crimes than just selling drugs, for all we know. A memory of that night comes back to me.
“See, King and I go way back. Back before you were in the picture, we…always had similar tastes you could say. He would find a girl then I’d get her. I’d find a girl then he’d get her. It’s the circle of life, King’s girl.” His voice was angry and low.
He pulled back slightly, taking a wicked looking knife from his pocket. My heart stuttered. He was on me suddenly, stopping me from moving when the sting from the blade touched my neck. I went cold.
“Except since you’ve been in the picture, my man has been slow to move on. He’s questioning the things I do. I can’t have that.”
“Did you share these girls when the B+ was flowing?” I ask.
Curiosity has been eating at me for over a year. I had let it go previously because my drugged mind didn’t want to believe that had happened to me. I also didn’t want to think that Darrian was actually going to pass me along to Roman at the time. I watch his face turn red. He keeps his eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze heating my skin.
