“Did you tell them?”
“I didn’t, believe it or not.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nope, because you will. You’re gonna be the one to look your cousin in the eyes and tell him you’re in love with the enemy, the guy whose brother almost killed him. That’s not my mess to clean up.”
He’s right. The hatred settling in his tone feels like a never-ending punch in the chest. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with Haze. I can’t be in love with him. I can’t love someone whose only goal was to use me.
I'm not that stupid, am I?
“I’m not in love with him,” I blurt.
“Oh really? Because your tears told me otherwise, and that fight—”
“That was the last time, I promise. I won’t go anywhere near him ever again. You don’t have to believe everything I say, but you have got to believe that.”
“Yeah, well, you see, even if I wanted to believe you, I couldn’t. No girl is ever truly over Haze Adams. Trust me, I know.”
I refrain from asking him to elaborate. Whatever ulterior motive Blake has for hating Haze’s player ways so much, I don’t want to know. I’ve had enough for the day.
“God, I can’t believe you did that,” he lashes out. “Have a thing for the guy whose brother once strangled you, the guy who, may I remind you, put a target on your back by making a deal that was meant to hurt Kendrick. The ultimate player, Winter.”
He was never that guy with me.
But then again, he was trying to seduce me, so I guess I never really knew the real him.
In that moment, I wish I could deny what he’s saying. I wish I could magically come up with an explanation for all the times I agreed to follow him. For the times I laughed with him to the point of tears and the constant text messages. I’d like to find the words to justify feeling the way I did when he kissed me in that motel room. I wish I could take our moments back, but I can’t.
They happened.
And they were wonderful.
Even if they weren’t real.
“I thought you were smarter than this,” he says quietly.
I can’t bring myself to apologize, wondering what I could possibly say that I haven’t already. Instead, I whisper the three words that sum up the way I feel better than an entire novel ever could.
“So do I.”
“IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME,” I HEAR Will say when we walk inside the house. I follow Blake into the living room where all the guys are. Except for one.
“Where’s Kendrick?” I ask.
“He’s upstairs, training. He’ll call us when he’s ready,” Alex says.
I immediately notice Will has a cut on his lower lip. It’s fresh, recent.
“Will, are you okay?”
“Do I look like I’m not?” He chuckles.
“Why is your lip bleeding?”
“Kendrick’s been training, we told you.”
They can’t be serious.
“What the hell? You guys train on each other?”
“Usually not, but Kendrick stopped training during his recovery, so he’s scared that he lost it.” Will shrugs, changing the channels with the remote.
My wandering gaze shifts to Alex and Blake. They seem unbothered by Will’s statement. Like it’s a normal thing for them to beat each other up.
“So basically Kendrick punched you in the face and you’re okay with it?”
“Of course I am. I’m the one who volunteered.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I’ll never understand men.
I scoff, sit down on the couch and watch Will change the channels continuously. Alex quickly gets sick of it and decides he’s going to take the remote away from him. Will wants to keep it, which results in Alex quite literally lying on top of him to steal it. I’m laughing at their imbecility when their bickering is interrupted by a knock on the door.
“I got it,” Will says, bringing the remote with him to annoy Alex, who rolls his eyes. As soon as he opens it, someone pushes past him. We’re all equally astounded to see her.
“Where is he?” she shouts.
“Nicole, what are you doing here?” Will asks.
“His car’s outside. I know he’s here.” She opens every door frantically.
Alex gives in, probably terrified that she’ll break something in his parents’ flawless home. “He’s upstairs.”
When she thumps up the stairs loudly, I assume she’s been here before, probably back when they were still together.
“Kendrick Kingston!” she shouts at the top of her lungs. The guys and I share a look. We don’t need to talk. We’re thinking the same thing. We quickly gather at the bottom of the stairs to listen.
“Nicole, w-what are you doing here?” Kendrick babbles.
“Don’t you dare pretend that you don’t know. How could you do this to me?”
“I really had to go. I’m sorry…”
“I give you my body, my soul, just like old times, and you sneak out.”
The guys’ mouths part as mocking smiles take residency on their faces. We don’t hear an answer from Kendrick, but what we do hear… is a very loud clap.
She just slapped him.
Well, I assume?
Unless she clapped her hands?
Why would she clap her hands?
Winter, back to the point.
Kendrick and Nicole slept together? And here I thought I was the only one making terrible choices.
“You leave without saying goodbye. You’re an asshole, a dirtbag, a waste of space,” she screams, obviously unaware that we can hear everything loud and clear.
That’s when it hits me. I thought it was incredibly weird that Kendrick didn’t come home yesterday to lecture me about Haze. He was busy with Nicole.
I bet the guys think she’s a little crazy to show up for the sole purpose of making a scene, but I actually feel bad for her. I can relate; nobody likes feeling used.
“Nicole, calm down,” Kendrick says.
“I was such an idiot. How could I think that you cared? How could I be so stupid to fall for you again?” Her screams turn to muffled sobs.
I feel like I’m watching a TV show.
“Wait… You love me?”
“Of course I do. I never stopped.”
Oh for God’s sake, Nicholas Sparks, get out of here.
“I love you, too.”
“You do?” Nicole sniffles.
Silence.
Then, a smooch.
Oh, they’re making out.
After what I assume to be a hardcore kissing session, they pull away for air. When we hear footsteps, we all rush to the couch, shoving each other.
“Guess who’s back together?” Nicole announces, an enormous smile on her lips.
What? That girl can smile? When? How?
“No way?” Will musters the best surprised expression he possibly can, but the truth is written all over his face.
“That’s great, guys,” I say.
“We really didn’t see it coming,” Blake adds.
Kendrick frowns.
“You heard everything, didn’t you?”
“Yep,” we all say at the same time.
Our laughter intertwines. The East Side may be dysfunctional, but they’re like family. And in the end, family’s the most important thing.
It pains me to think that Haze doesn’t really have any.
But I also find a hint of irony in the story of the boy who’s terrified to end up alone but still refuses to let anyone in.
After the “we’re back together” moment, Kendrick goes back to his endless training, and Nicole joins us in the living room. Truth is, the girl can be nice when she wants to.
Notice the words when she wants to.
“So… Winter,” Blake says during a commercial. “Is there something you would like to tell us?”
Son of a…
He’s going to do this
now?
“No, nothing in particular.”
“Are you sure?”
Can this possibly get any more awkward?
“Positive.” I nod.
My answer irritates him.
Will and Alex give us a weird look and draw their attention away from us and back to the TV. I want to thank the Lord that they’re not girls. Girls wouldn’t have just ignored that. I swear, we’re better than the FBI at finding out the truth sometimes. I lock eyes with Nicole, whose gaze is loaded with suspicion. I don’t know why Blake wants me to tell them. It doesn’t matter what happened. It’s over. Done.
Why tell a story that never really began?
MY IDEA OF A GOOD TIME has always been to go see a movie, to go get ice cream on a sunny day, or to spend time with friends. They say you learn something new every day. Well, today taught me that watching Kendrick and Will take swings at each other for thirty minutes is not a hobby I’ll be pursuing in the future.
The violence and recklessness of their actions quickly rendered me terrified. Blake was right. If I thought I’d seen two guys fight before, I’d clearly never seen two trained fighters fight. Every fist Kendrick put up, Will avoided. Every punch that Will threw, Kendrick threw back. And to make it even worse, Alex said that Haze is a far more advanced fighter than Will as he started years prior to him. If Kendrick can’t beat Will, he won’t be able to beat Haze.
Kendrick’s incredible considering he’s only been in the game for two years. But Haze has been around for four.
Needless to say that’s not helping our odds.
My cousin tried to show me a couple of moves to defend myself in between breaks. Having to pretend I had no idea what he was talking about slowly but surely drove me insane. Haze and I already spent hours training so that I’d master the basics. It seemed so important to him to teach me how to defend myself. One more check on his “let’s convince Winter that I care” list, I guess.
As we drive toward the moment I’ve so desperately been trying to avoid, I feel myself trembling. My breathing is sharp, irregular. I can’t deal with the burden of reality right now. I nervously fidget with my fingers, watching the neighborhood fall asleep as the lights gradually go out along the way. Kendrick’s been sparing me the details until now. But he’ll have to tell me everything when we get there.
“You need to chill, Winter. I can feel your stress.” Will nudges me with his elbow.
“I can’t help it.”
“What are you so worried about? We’ve been training super hard for this. Kendrick will beat Haze.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He has to,” Blake glances at me. “He will.”
Gee, thanks. That helps.
“We’re here,” Kendrick says. “That’s the farthest we go.” The area is empty, deserted. He pulls up next to the creepiest tunnel I’ve ever seen. The darkness on the opposite end makes it hard to believe that anyone ever found the courage to cross it.
“Can’t I just stay here? Do I absolutely have to witness this act of violence?”
Alex shakes his head. “The prize has to be present during the fight. I’m sorry. That’s the rule.”
“Who made up that rule? Is it written in stone? I’d like to see it stated somewhere, or I’m not going.”
Will grins, getting out of the car.
“Call it an unwritten rule.”
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and fail. When I finally gather the courage to get out of the car, I’m welcomed by utter and complete darkness. The tunnel hovers in front of us, reminding me of every horror movie where the girl dies ever.
They want me to go in there?
If I wasn’t surrounded by extremely well-trained fighters right now, I’d have peed my pants already.
“So where is the fight happening? Are we the first ones here?”
Will scoffs. “Cute. You think because we’re called street fighters that we actually fight in the street?” His gaze shift to the boys. “The Downside, huh? I thought we’d moved on from that.”
Blake shrugs. “The fighter responsible for the deal gets to pick, you know that.”
I assume it means whoever challenged the enemy into the fight gets to choose the place and time. Well, I guess I have Haze to thank for giving me nightmares for the rest of my life.
Blake speaks again. “Plus, it’s the safest place right now. They’ll never find us here.”
I know that by they he means the authorities. Kendrick said that they heard about the fights from whispers on the street and rumors running around town. But it’s like a unicorn. Hearing of it and actually finding one are two different things.
The fights constantly changing location make it near impossible to track the “show.” That’s what they call it. You need to be in the inner circle to know when or where they happen, and from what I’ve heard, that’s not an easy circle to get into. That makes me wonder how Blake, who was the first one to get into it, did it.
“Okay.” Kendrick steps in my way and looks deeply into my eyes. “We need to go over the basics before we go down there. One wrong move and everything could turn to shit. First, don’t interfere with the fight—never. Even if Haze is beating the shit out of me, you don’t say anything. Whatever happens, he won’t kill me. He can’t. Not if I surrender. Do you understand?”
I nod halfheartedly.
“Second, you have to be willing to surrender. Ten seconds on the floor marks the end of the fight. If you don’t accept defeat when you can barely stand, your opponent will not be held responsible if the last punch kills you, whether it’s voluntary or not.”
In other words, he has the right to kill you.
Goose bumps creep onto my skin.
“Just like when betting on anything such as horses, car races, you only have one chance to bet and there are no refunds. You’re responsible for losing your money. So in conclusion, keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself, and everything should be fine, okay?”
Only then do I realize my eyes are flooded. Kendrick stares at me in shock. I can’t handle the guilt. He’s in this mess because of me. If I hadn’t followed him, I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder every step I take. If I’d just stayed home, he wouldn’t have to worry about what’s going to happen to me if he loses.
When a tear rolls down my face, the coldhearted fighter standing in front of me comes apart and turns back into the little boy I grew up with, the boy who stood up to my bullies when we were six, the Kendrick I ate entire boxes of cookies with in secret.
“I’m so sorry you got dragged into this, cousin.” He pulls me into a hug. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. It’ll all be over soon.”
I should feel better, but I don’t. It’ll all be over soon, he says.
But for who?
As we get closer to the tunnel, I try and assemble the million pieces scattered in my mind. What’s the Downside? And how the hell do we get there? Kendrick leads the way toward the unknown. When he activates the flashlight on his phone, the cement walls hovering over and around us reveal graffiti of all sorts. One graffiti tag in particular catches my eyes.
WS.
“We’re in West Side territory,” Alex explains when he notices the way I peer at the bold letters.
Of course we are.
That’s not helping our odds part two.
The flashlight stops on something I’d say is rather confusing—although it does remind me that I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. A sewer grate. Again, the light refuses to pay us a visit, leaving me to fend for myself as I desperately try to see what’s under it. The only visible thing in the man-sized hole is a rusty metal ladder embedded into the wall.
A sewer? Really?
Is this Haze’s way of telling me I’m full of shit?
“What are we doing? Hanging out with the rats?” I ask when Kendrick easily pulls the grate up and uncovers the way to hell.
“You’ll see” is all he says.
He begins to go down the ladder. Then comes Blake’s turn, followed by Alex’s, and finally, mine. As soon as my feet connect with the ground, I’m overwhelmed by an atrocious smell, my dinner threatening to make an appearance. On the bright side—there is no sign of water anywhere, which is good. Haze ruined my idea of love. I don’t need him to ruin my shoes, too.
When Will puts the grate back into place and goes down the ladder, as well, I catch myself wondering what would happen if someone were to drop a block of cement over the grate. Would we be stuck here forever?
“Come on.” Kendrick motions and walks ahead.
I follow them unwillingly. We take numerous turns, venturing deeper and deeper into the tunnels. I try to keep up, but I know I wouldn’t find my way back if I had to. When I make out a massive concrete door in the distance, I understand that I got it all wrong. This isn’t a sewer.
It never was.
“Welcome to the Downside,” Will says as Kendrick pulls on the door with a groan that indicates how heavy it is.
It squeaks open, revealing what seems to be a completely different universe.
People.
A lot of people.
I have no idea what that door is made of, but it sure is soundproof, considering that I never, and I mean never, heard any of the numerous voices on the other side. Everywhere I look, all I can think is Cesspool of Unsavory Characters.
A buzzing sound emanates from the white neon lights illuminating the room. Spread across the metallic ceiling, they flicker repeatedly, increasing the creepy vibe by a million. There are so many questions I want to ask, but I can’t.
I want to know who built this place. Is it only used for the street fights? How did they manage to keep it undercover for so long? One look around the secret lair is all it takes for some of my questions to answer themselves.
Drug dealers, pimp, junkies, muscle heads.
The Downside isn’t just for fighting.
As we make our way through the crowd, heads start to turn one by one.
Kendrick whispers, “Don’t let them see your fear.”
I do my best to ignore the intense anger and hatred pointed at us, keeping my eyes glued to the ground.
In the distance, a dense crowd is gathered in a circle, waiting for something. And that something is the fight. Soon, people begin to part, stepping out of our way to let us through, all the while making sure to stare at us in the most hateful way a human possibly can.
Unwritten Rules Page 19
