Standing outside my trailer, Leo checks the text on his phone. “Nazareth and V are down by the creek and have started a fire down there.” That’s on the other side of the farm, but closer to the road Nazareth uses to bring him and V home.
“He says she’s hurting bad, but she keeps saying she’s fine. He said she keeps holding her head and is close to doubled over. It sounds like this migraine is taking her down. I don’t know why she thinks she has to front with us.”
Probably for the same reason we all keep parts of ourselves private—even within our group that we trust. Self-protection can be a tough wall to break down, but it’s there for a reason. I should know.
“Do you ever wonder how sick she really is?” Leo says. “I mean, we know it’s bad, but if it’s worse than bad?”
“Yeah.” But then I think of how V says that the sickness is all Leo sees of her—that and the crazy side she has to make up for it.
Leo’s head jerks up, and I follow his line of sight. A shadow sprints across the road, and a combination of hope and dread knots my gut. It’s Scarlett, and I turn away from her and toward the direction of the creek.
If Leo and I move fast enough, maybe she’ll take the hint and leave. I don’t have it in me to contain my anger. Anger I don’t have a right to. Anger I don’t understand. Scarlett doesn’t trust me to be friends, real friends, but she trusts that idiot from school to go on a date. The word date tastes so bad in my mouth I want to spit. I walk faster, and Leo scrambles to keep up.
“Let me get this straight.” It takes everything I have not to punch Leo’s wide smile off his face. “The girl you’ve been following around like a sad puppy is finally chasing after you and you won’t stop to chat? That feels rude, and I think we should all pause for a moment to discuss your poor choices.”
“I’m not in the mood for drama,” I say.
“Funny, I find drama amusing, so we should stay.”
“You’re supposed to be my friend,” I bite out and Leo’s laughter grinds my bones.
“I’ve never seen you so worked up. This is going to be more fun than I could have imagined.”
“Jesse!” Scarlett calls out. “Please, Jesse, wait!”
I drop my head and wonder why the hell everything has to be so hard. Scarlett goes from a run to a fast walk. As she approaches, I can hear her hurried breath.
“What do you want, Scarlett?” I demand, and my voice is as sharp as the razor blade that went through me when she walked out of her house on the arm of that moron from school.
She stops short of Leo and me, and thanks to the faint light of the moon, I can make out her wide, wild eyes. Curls fall from the elaborate bun on her head, and it hurts that she’s so beautiful. Scarlett’s always pretty, but there’s something that catches in my chest when she looks so . . . untamed.
Scarlett swallows as if talking through her breaths is a chore. “I need to talk to you.”
“Then talk.”
Her eyes dart to Leo then back to me. “Can we talk alone?”
“But where would the fun in that be for me?” Leo asks.
None. I scowl at my, in theory, friend. “V needs us.”
“She does.” Leo’s smile fades. V being in physical pain is no joke to either of us. He holds out his hand to make it clear he intends to go alone. “But I got it from here.”
I toss the baggie in my grasp to Leo, and he catches it. Scarlett’s eyes somehow open wider. “What’s that?”
I could lie, but it’s not worth it. Going out with that six-foot pole bean means she’s already made up her mind about me. “Pot.”
“What did you say?”
“Pot. Marijuana. It’s a drug people smoke.”
“Some eat it,” Leo adds. “I’m partial to brownies.”
I shoot him a death glare because I don’t need his help. He grins again.
“Why do you have it?” she fires off.
“Why do you think?” Pot helps numb V’s pain. The goal tonight is for her to not cry herself to sleep. I cross my arms because no matter what I say, Scarlett’s going to judge me, and like everyone else, judge me wrong. “Still want to talk or am I no longer worthy of your presence?”
She purses her lips as if she’s the one who has the right to be pissed off, and the expression works under my skin. This girl drives me insane.
I should walk, but Scarlett and I need to have this out. “Go on, Leo.”
“Seriously, that’s how you’re going to leave me?” Leo turns his back to me and heads into the trees. “Cliffhangers suck.”
I can’t look at Scarlett as I wait for his footsteps to fade into the night. My muscles lockup in anger, and I berate myself. Keep it civil, keep it simple. I was right years ago—we can’t be friends. Scarlett and I are on two different wavelengths.
“What do you need?” I say, and gather my courage to look her in the eye. What I wasn’t prepared for was the hurt in them.
She drops her gaze to the ground. “I didn’t want to go out with him. My friends set it up and told me about it today. I didn’t know how to back out of it without upsetting anyone.”
She’s okay testing me, but won’t say no to anyone else? Why do I get the short end of this stick? “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m not your boyfriend.”
“But you’re my friend,” she rushes out.
“I don’t know what we are anymore.”
“You said we were friends,” she says softly. “Are we not anymore?”
“You should go home. My friends need me.” And she doesn’t.
Her eyes fill with tears, and pain shoots through me. Each day has been torture as I’ve waited for her to trust me, and it’s clear she has no intentions of trusting me again. Not wanting to see the agony in her eyes, not wanting the guilt for being the one putting that ache there, I turn away and start for the forest.
“Jesse!” Scarlett calls with a tremble in her voice. “Please, stop!”
I round so quickly that my heart picks up speed. “Why should I? I’ve asked you for weeks to trust me, to give me a chance, and you put me off.”
Nothing but stunned silence from her.
“If I met your friends’ approval, your family’s approval, you would have instantly been out your window. So your friends made you go on the date, but I gave you a choice and you didn’t take it. I know you’re messed up, but I’m messed up, too. If you want me to stay, you’re going to have to give me a damned good reason and it has to be better than you’re broken because I already own that excuse.”
I wait for her to say something, to say anything to salvage us, but I’m met with her stoic silence. Forget this. Forget her. I don’t need her or the pain she brings. I turn to go again, but her fragile voice stops me.
“He . . . he hits my mom,” she says, then gasps as if she’s fighting for air.
My vision tunnels and my brain goes fuzzy as I hear the memory of the slap as my mom was struck. My childhood screams reverberate in my mind.
“My . . . my d-dad hits my mom,” she continues, and I look over my shoulder. Scarlett claws at her throat even though there’s nothing there to strangle her. She begins to quake or maybe I’m the one who can’t stop shaking.
“I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared and I’m angry. I’m sorry I never came to see you when you asked, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I know I made a mistake, but I need a friend, and you said you were it. So are you? You made a mistake when you hurt me, and I know I’ve been making mistakes now, so we need to figure it out. Are we meant to be friends or are we one, big tragic mistake?”