destroying everyone here, making everyone realize that just because they had money didn’t mean they were safe. Really. All of that was just accidental, I guess.
“But you did.” Archer sighed, his racing pulse slowly getting under control. “I’m not complaining, but I know some people would.” He didn’t let his statement linger there—because there was a lot to unpack in what he said. Some people, namely those who’d died and the family members of those people, would do more than complain. He plowed on, “Now, uh, can I change? My boxers are a little wet.”
I blinked, innocence radiating off me. “Whatever do you mean, Archer?” If anyone could pull off sounding like an angel and acting like a devil, it was me. I had the sweet voice down pat.
He grinned, and I rolled off him, letting him get up, grab a new pair of jeans from his dresser, and disappear from the room. I assumed he went to the bathroom to change, and all the while, I couldn’t stop smiling to myself.
This was actually not a bad little date, if that’s what it was. Maybe it was just a hangout session, but I rather liked thinking it was a date. My mom would kill me if she knew I was seeing multiple guys at once, but I didn’t care. This was my life, and I was going to fight for it. Whoever the hell had it out for me had another thing coming if they thought I’d sit down, roll over, and show them my stomach.
No, I liked my life, and I’d fight like hell to keep it.
Chapter Twenty-Three – Jaz
The next week passed without many incidents. Even though I couldn’t hang out with Bobbi outside of school, I still told her all the gossip of my life. She was acting more normal now, as was everyone else in the school. Even though terrible things had happened, everything somehow found a way to return to normal.
Normalcy wasn’t Midpark’s strong suit, apparently. Kidnappings, blackmail, framed murders…the list went on and on, and frankly I was shocked at how used to it everyone was. For a town that claimed it never saw any crime or hardship, there definitely was an awful lot. But, in the end, I supposed that could be because of the money floating through this town. These people didn’t bleed red; they bled green. Wealth was the backbone of Midpark and even a few of its neighboring towns, like Hillcrest.
Hmm. Mom mentioned trying to apply for Hillcrest, see if I could get any scholarships or something. My grades weren’t stellar, and I didn’t have a whole lot of extracurriculars. Never got into clubs or anything like that, never did volunteer work or anything that wasn’t paid. I didn’t think I could get a scholarship to Hillcrest even if I tried.
Plus, you know, the window of time to apply for that sort of thing was closing, if not already closed. With everything that had been going on, college had been the last thing on my mind. It was like, deep down, a part of me worried that I wouldn’t live that long.
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to. I desperately wanted to survive. I mean, who knew? Maybe things seemed calm right now because they actually were calm.
Or, and this was more likely, perhaps this was just the lull before the storm. The calm before things really turned to shit.
Yeah, I really hoped not.
But, alas, hoping for something did nothing to change reality.
I sat in my last class of the day, wishing time would speed up so I could go home. I had a lot of homework to do. For whatever reason, it seemed like every teacher today had decided it was a good day to assign multiple chapters and even papers. Ugh. Writing was not one of my strengths.
Hmm. What were my strengths? Picking the wrong guys to hook up with, getting into trouble, and daydreaming during class were three things that immediately popped into my head.
Silly me thought everything was good, that today would end and seamlessly roll into the next day, but things were never that easy. Not here.
An hour passed before I found myself in Jacob’s car, quiet as he drove us home.
“How was school?” Jacob asked, always one to stick to the small talk, even though he and I were far past that point in our relationship now.
I shrugged, staring out of the window. “Fine.” My usual answer. No extra fingers in my locker, so