They all go quiet when I walk in, eventually changing the subject to this game’s point spread. I rip my pads off mechanically, barely seeing what I’m doing. It’s not long before Emory walks into the room. I don’t see him, but I can feel the shift in the energy, the hush and tension.
His locker’s right beside mine, which used to be a good idea.
Now, not so much.
I don’t look at him, but my anger has already fizzled. It’s been replaced by something cold and tired. “We didn’t do it to hurt you.” I keep my voice low, but I know he hears me. I can tell by the way he goes still before jerking his pads from his shoulders. “And it’s not just a physical thing, it’s—”
He slams the locker closed and walks toward the showers, ignoring me.
Ben gives me a look from the other end of the row, but I just shake my head, resigned.
I think back to that promise I made eight years ago.
“Do not be fucking with my sister, Reyn.”
“What?” I asked, stuffing a candy bar into my mouth. Emory and Vandy had gone trick or treating, but I was content to swipe my candy from the other kids’ bags. “Why would I mess with Baby V?” She was so cute that night in her little angel costume, silver halo bobbing along as her wings dragged the ground. “I like your sister.”
Emory scowled. “If you try to make her your girlfriend, I will kick your ass.”
I choked on the chocolate. “Gross!” At the ripe old age of ten, girls were only sometimes tolerable when they were the same age, but nine-year-olds? That was a completely insurmountable age gap. Entirely different worlds.
“I mean it,” Emory pressed. “I’ll fuck you up.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend,” I said, but I could see he was bothered. So even though the thought outwardly grossed me out—and inwardly did things I couldn’t even understand yet—I loftily added, “I promise, I won’t fuck with V, okay?”
I hadn’t even thought of that night in the treehouse in years. There should really be some law of limitations regarding promises made by ten-year-olds. What the fuck did I know back then? Nothing.
All I know now is that everything is fucked up and there’s a lot more to lose than my freedom. I can handle losing Preston Prep, the Devils, maybe even Em. But after getting Vandy back? That’s a loss I’m not sure I can survive.
33
Vandy
I wake up the next morning with the same pit of dread in my stomach that was there when I went to sleep. Only now, it’s joined by something else. It’d be stupid to call it anger. Anger is messy and confusing, and what I feel is a very tidy, simple thing. It’s strong as steel and just as unforgiving. It’s sure and confident—things I’m not used to feeling.
Emory didn’t get home until late, so we haven’t talked. But I know it’s coming. Up until now, I don’t think I knew how to even approach it. It all seems very clear this morning, as I get dressed, carefully and efficiently.
When I come across three pills tucked into an old bra, I know I’m doing the right thing. Things are muddled and scary right now, but looking at them, I barely feel the pull to bliss out and escape. Whatever Emory thinks of Reyn and me, he’s dead wrong. Being with Reyn makes me better. Stronger.
Fuck what Emory thinks. Screw what my parents think, for that matter. To hell with Mr. McAllister, who’s never around. Headmaster Collins, Jerry, Dewey—all of them can suck a fat one, for all I care.
I know it’s not that easy. I can rail against everyone and come out the other side just fine. Reyn doesn’t have the luxury. He has Jerry riding him. The school. His dad. His future.
The best thing is for me to do as Reyn asked; wait. Let Emory cool off and we’ll talk it over. And if not? I’ll get my revenge with my exposé. It’s all sitting on my laptop, locked behind an encrypted file, tucked in my room. It’s also backed up on a flash-drive I’ve started carrying on my person. Every letter, every instruction, every photo.
If Emory wants to burn my life down, I can do it right back. And I will. No regrets.
The flash-drive sits warm in my pocket as I walk into the kitchen. Emory looks up from the counter, bagel in