He scoots his chair over and lays his hairy arms on my table. “It’s all over school that you’re screwing Bran Mathis.”
“That’s what’s interesting these days?” I arch an eyebrow. “Why aren’t they talking about how I’m joining the circus over Christmas break? My group could really use the publicity boost.”
“Circus?” He blinks.
“It’s a joke,” a student nearby breaks in. It’s the first time I’ve had anyone stick up for me at school, and it’s a miracle that I don’t jump out of my chair and hug her. I settle for a small smile.
The blonde shrugs.
“A joke?” Kyle repeats. His face grows red like a cartoon character with steam blowing out of his ears. “You making fun of me?”
“No. I’m trying to get my homework done.” I reach for my poetry when a sweaty palm slaps on top of mine.
A yelp escapes me. A really loud yelp.
Mrs. Chen’s head shoots up from her desk. "Mr. Hudson," the study hall monitor snaps, "We do not touch other students here at Astor Park. Unless you want to have a point docked from your account, you should remove your hand immediately."
Kyle’s hand tightens around my wrist. I grit my teeth because this shit hurts. Mrs. Chen opens her laptop. Kyle, recognizing the teacher is going to follow through, releases me immediately, but Mrs. Chen is busy typing.
"Wait, you said if I released her I wouldn't get any points taken off," he protests.
She doesn't even look at him when she responds. "I told you to remove your hand immediately and you didn't. I won't tolerate that kind of behavior."
"Bitch," he mutters. A bell dings. Kyle flips his phone over and shoots to his feet, waving his phone in the air. "That's two points. You took off two points!" he shouts.
"And you called me a bitch. That's insubordination and a violation of rule 4-13 of the Honor Code regarding acceptable conduct. Shall we go for three points or are you going to sit down, Mr. Hudson?"
Kyle sits down with a bang.
"And the rest of you should know that because you are seniors, I expect you to act like adults instead of a pack of wild animals, trying to tear up another student because they're some kind of perceived competition."
"We're not kindergarteners," Felicity complains from another table in the library.
"Then act your age, Ms. Worthington. You all have ten minutes left to study—use them wisely."
I think I have hearts in my eyes as I gaze at Mrs. Chen. She's officially my favorite teacher.
"Thank you," I tell her when study hall is over.
She gives me a terse nod, which isn't exactly welcoming, but I still love her. Outside the library, Kyle is waiting with fury in his eyes.
"Don't think you've won, bitch."
"We're not in a competition so there's no winner or loser," I reply. I check my schedule and see I have music next, which means I should be able to rifle through my locker.
"You're a loser in life."
"Okay." I smile and wave as I run off. Kyle stands dumbfounded behind me. What did he want? For me to argue with him? He weighs twice as much as me and I know that if he wanted to, he could physically destroy me, so I'm not going to get in a fight with him. Besides, it sounds like he's skating on the edge of trouble and needs to be careful himself.
“Are you okay?”
I shove my books into my locker and turn to Ella who has stopped near me.
“How’s Sebastian?” I ask immediately.
She wrinkles her nose. "He's...different."
"How so?"
"He just is. He used to be understanding and sweet and now he’s like a cranky old man.”
The sick feeling I get anytime I remember the accident bubbles in my stomach. "I'm so sorry," I say. The words are inadequate, but I don't know what else to do. I decide to ask, "Is there anything I can do? Like cook his meals or wash his socks? Easton says that chocolate-covered caramels are good gift."
“That’d be nice, but I might send them. It’s not that the accident is your fault or anything, but Seb is just…weird right now." She reaches out and taps her fingers on my arm. "You should concentrate on getting better yourself. Sebastian will come around. Or we will adjust. We're just happy he's still with us."
"Me, too," I say fervently. "But if there's anything I can ever do, let me know."
Her face grows serious. "It wasn't your fault, you know. If it was, Callum would've gotten you charged with something no matter that your dad is a DA."
The bell rings or I would've replied. Ella gives me a closed-mouth smile and walks off to her next class. Her words provide me with a little comfort, but my next period is Music Study and I use the time to soothe myself, playing Mendelssohn’s sonatas all in a major key. The next fifty minutes are the most peaceful ones I've experienced since I woke up.
"Time’s up, Ms. Wright," a voice from overhead says through the intercom system. Sadly, I pack the violin away and trudge out to the lunchroom.
The lunchroom isn't so much a lunchroom as a posh restaurant. The ceiling must be at least twenty feet high. The walls are paneled in dark wood and the rectangular tables are draped in white linen. Classical music plays in the background accompanied by the sound of tinkling water from a fountain near the entrance. In one corner, a massive wall of live plants fills the space. The tables in front of the wall are empty.
In the center, I spot Ella with two other girls. One with long reddish hair and the other with a dark bob. Sitting beside them are a couple of other students I'd probably classify as popular. One table over is Felicity and her crowd.
"Wondering where to sit?"
I look over to see Bran at my elbow. "No. I'm going to sit over by the garden."
He makes a face.
"What? What's terrible about there? It looks pretty."
"Bugs," he says and then shudders. I don't know if that's fake or real. "There are a ton of pests over there. Trust me. You don't want to eat there. Come with me." He tips his head toward a table on the far end of the room. It's already half full of very muscular guys.
"It looks like you have a crowd."
"Nah, it's only because Dom's there and he's big enough for two people."
I run my tongue along my lip and consider my options. I don't have many. It's either in the corner with the bugs or with Bran. "Is it really that bad?" I ask.
"I think the question is, am I really that bad that you'd rather sit with the bugs than me?" His eyes twinkle so I know he's not seriously hurt, but his point is made.
"Why are you so nice to me?" I ask as we move through the line. The buffet choices are unreal. I'm never skipping lunch again. Kyle can sit next to me all period and whisper his gross insults and I still won't care because the pumpkin squash ravioli smells good enough to die for.
"Why shouldn't I be?"
"Um, because I was a terrible person?"
"Since when were you a terrible person?"
I tilt my head and study Bran. Is he coming on to me and that's why he's saying I wasn't bad? He's very attractive. He could probably get into a lot of other girls' panties without much effort.
"Did we spend a lot of time together? We don't have many classes together." Come to think of it, I don't think we have one.
He flushes slightly. "Yeah, I'm not in the college ones like you."
Oh shit. Did he take that as an insult? "That's not what I meant. I-I—" I flounder. "I just don't think I'm really popular here, and you’re really hot, so shouldn't you be with, like, more popular people?"
He plucks an apple out of a basket and puts it on my tray. "You think I'm hot, huh? Maybe that's why I'm hanging out with you." He winks and picks up my tray, carrying it to the cashier.
She rings him up and swipes his ID card. I hand the cashier mine. She swipes it and then hands it back. "You have any cash?"
"Huh?" I ask. "Why do I need cash?"
She flips the screen around. "Because you don't have any money in your account."
This is embarrassing. The kids behind m
e snicker and I feel a whole wave of humiliating gossip start to crescendo.
Bran steps forward. "I'll pay.”
"Cash only," the lady says. "We’re only allowed to swipe the ID once."
He looks frustrated.
"Is there a problem?" Felicity prompts from her table. There’s a note of glee in her voice, as if her embarrassment radar has been triggered.
"She doesn't have any money in her account," yells a kid behind me. "And Bran doesn't have any cash on him."
The tips of my savior's ears turn red. I clench the tray between my fingers to keep from flinging the orange pasta all over the loud-mouthed kid.
"You're holding up the line," moans another student. "I've got to get to class."
"Yeah, just let her through so the rest of us can eat."
"We're hungry!"
"This is why normies should never be allowed into Astor."
"It's awful, isn't it."
With each complaint, Felicity's smile grows wider and wider. She's eating this shit up. I’m about to abandon the tray when I remember the money Mom shoved in my hand last night. I dig into my pocket and hand it over to the cashier.
Too bad for you, Felicity, I mutter to myself
“Sorry,” I say to Bran. “I forgot I had any money. I guess my short-term memory sucks as much as my long-term one.”
“No worries,” he says, but his shoulders are stiff. He doesn’t like the mocking much.
I want to tell him to relax, but that’s something he’ll have to learn on his own. As for me, I go to the corner and eat my lunch. I’ve got more important things to worry about than Kyle, Felicity or Bran. My sister is in danger and since I can’t remove her from her home, I’ll have to find a way to get rid of the threat.
Chapter 24
Easton
“I’m heading over to the hospital. You sound like shit. Didn’t you get any sleep last night?” I ask Sawyer over the phone. He showed up at the hospital around six this morning, and I went home to catch some shuteye.
"I tried, but I kept worrying. I should’ve never left.”
Translation: Seb’s been giving him grief for going home for the last four hours.
"Does Seb want anything?" I throw a leather coat over my shoulder and hustle down the stairs.
"What doesn't he want? I've heard him ask for steak, sushi, a plane, Lauren, his own bed, fewer nurses, prettier nurses, a blowjob, a hand job, to get out of the fucking bed." My baby brother heaves a sigh.
"So you haven’t told him about Lauren?"
“No. I called her and told her that Seb woke up. She said that was nice but that we’re too much for her.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I have no idea. Look, I gotta go. Seb's yelling at the nurse again."
Sawyer hangs up before I can respond. An idea pops into my head.
“Straight to the hospital?” Durand asks when I get into the Bentley a few minutes later.
"No. Toy store first and then hospital."
"Which toy store?"
"The one on Kovacs."
Durand doesn't even blink an eye, even though he knows what it is. Hell, everyone above the age of thirteen knows and probably a good half of Bayview's been inside once—ostensibly for gag gifts, but from what the Astor girls say, there's plenty of battery-operated toys that bounce around in the bottom of purses and backpacks.
We make the detour to the sex shop and I pop in, find what I need, and pay. Durand’s not much of a talker and I’m worn out, so I close my eyes and doze for the rest of the ride. When we arrive at the hospital, Durand wakes me by turning the volume up on the radio.
"I'll catch a ride home," I tell him as I shut the door. Since Seb is making all the staff wish he would go back into his coma, I put a little extra power into my smile as I say my "hello”s.
"Rhonda, that's a nice shade on you."
The on-duty nurse, fifty if she's a day, beams. "Thank you, Easton. Blue's always been my color."
"I'm talking about your lipstick. It's a kissing color." I wink, and she blushes like she's twelve and rubs her lips together.
"What about me?" Sarah, her co-worker, chirps.
"I'd have to go to confessional for three days if I spoke out loud the thoughts I'm having about you, Miss Sarah," I tell her.
Sarah pats her blue-rinsed hair and giggles.
On my way to the room, I run into Matthew—one of the orderlies. "Looking extra buff today, my man."
"Did some power lifting this morning," he says, curling his biceps.
I knock my fist against it and look suitably impressed. "Nice, but be careful or the lady patients will fall in love and won't want to leave."
"That's the plan. Full beds, full paycheck."
"I got you." I do the finger gun in his direction and then swing into Seb's room.
"Duck!" I hear, and instinctively I obey.
The wind above my head whistles as something hurtles over my head. I turn around in time to see a food tray smash against the wall and plummet to the ground, leaving a Rorschach blob made up of peas, applesauce, and a mystery meat.
"Food's that bad," I quip.
"This place is a shithole," Seb growls. "When am I going home?" His face is red and I'm a little worried he's going to pop a blood vessel and go back into his coma. Sawyer's in his chair with his head buried in his hands.
"What's your doctor say?" When I reach the bed, I pick up the chart that hangs off the end and flip through, but none of the chicken scratchings have any meaning to me.
“That I can leave when my parent or guardian shows up. You’re eighteen. Be my guardian and get me out of here.”
“Okay." I go over to him. He's got two IVs in his arm. I begin to tug on one of them.
"What are—" Sawyer lunges for me, but it's unnecessary because his twin has already jerked his arm out of my reach.
"Don't fucking touch my IVs. Are you trying to kill me?" Seb scowls, covering his wrists protectively with one hand.
"You said you wanted help getting out of here."
He scowls. "You're supposed to get a doctor's release. Not just rip out my IVs. I need my pain meds."
"Then it sounds like you should chill out and shut up until your doc tells you to go home. Trust me, act like a fucking punk a little more and they'll kick you out on the street. Then there'll be no more of this." I flick my finger against one of the IV lines.
"I don't need you to pretend to give a damn. I have a babysitter already," Seb says, sullen as a toddler.
"If you're talking about Sawyer, then no, you don't. He's going home now to shit, shower, and sleep." I squeeze my younger brother's shoulder with my free hand. I can feel him wilt in relief. The kid's been killing himself here. "You've got me to entertain you. Sawyer said you wanted a blowjob? I can't deliver that, but I do have this." I toss the paper bag onto Seb's lap.
He pulls out the sex toy. "Seriously? I don't want this." He chucks it at my head, but he's so weak it falls to the floor in front of me. "Where the hell is Lauren?”
“She’s at home.” I have no idea, but that’s my best guess.
“You shoulda brought me a prostitute.”
"I checked with Rhonda and she says bringing prostitutes into the hospital isn't allowed." I pick up the toy and set it on the table.
"Like rules have ever stopped you before."
My temples begin to throb. I jerk my thumb at Sawyer. "Time to go."
He gets up and walks toward the door without another word.
"You're leaving me?" Seb yells. "You're fucking leaving me? I woke up like less than twenty-four hours ago and you're skipping out!"
Sawyer freezes.
"Yes, he's leaving, and you get me in his place. Now shut the fuck up and let your brother go in peace," I snap. "Go," I order Sawyer.
He bolts and I don't blame him. I'd run off, too, if I could.
"Who died and made you king?" Seb demands.
"Me." I sit down in one of the empty chairs, tuck
my hands behind my neck and stretch my legs out. I've been up for only an hour or so, but my head aches and all I want to do is close my eyes and take a nap.
"What's so tiring about your life? Too many chicks on your junk?" He sounds envious.
I decide to tell him the pathetic truth. "Only one girl and we haven’t even gotten to the dry humping stage.”
That silences him. I pop my eyes open to see what he's thinking and find him staring out the window. I remind myself that he was in a bad accident, was in a coma for two weeks, and is probably stir crazy.
"Did the doctor really say you just need a signature from a parent or guardian?"
"Yes, but Dad’s not answering," Seb replies sourly.
“He’s coming home. It’s a nineteen-hour flight and they have to stop and refuel,” I remind him.
"I know." The sheets curl in his fists. He wants to get out of here so bad.
The phone on the nightstand next to the bed buzzes at the same time the device in my pocket vibrates. Dad must be here. Seb’s eyes light up as he grabs the phone. Whatever he reads isn't good, though. His bright face turns black as he scans the message. With a curse, he hurls the phone across the room. It strikes right in the middle of the mystery meat mark.
"Good aim," I sigh. Seb is one of the top scorers on the Astor lacrosse team.
“Dad’s in London and won’t be here until the wee hours of Thursday morning.”
“What for?” I pull out my own phone and read the message—bad weather is grounding him.
“East.”
“What?”
“You gotta do something.”
I make a face. “Like what? We’re on the second floor. You want to tie your bedsheets together and climb out?”
A crafty gleam enters his eyes. “There’s one person who can help us.”
A firehouse full of alarm bells rings in my head. There is someone who has guardianship over us when Dad’s out of the country—or at least used to. He could sign off on our grades, permission slips, or anything that a minor couldn’t buy without an adult agreement. But that person is persona non grata and Seb knows this.
“No.” I shake my head. “No and no. That’s a bad idea.”
“Why? Because Ella would care? What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and I won’t tell if you won’t.”