to look at me, his face scratched and bloodied from the fight. It makes him look like the very thing he just proclaimed that he was most definitely not. That is, he looks human.
“They're just lucky that law enforcement is involved in their brother's case,” Oscar says, and that's that. Guess I'll have to wait until school tomorrow to see what he's talking about. That is, if either of the boys even show up.
“Let's get the girls from Jennifer's,” Aaron says, cringing when he sees the time. “It's a little late, but oh well. They can sleep in the car on the way back.”
We do just that, taking them back to Aaron's and tucking them into their beds.
As soon as they're asleep, I burst into Oscar's room, intending on giving him verbal whiplash, but he's asleep, too, lying on the queen-sized bed in the corner with his sweats and hoodie still on. He looks so damn tired that I end up just sitting on the edge of the bed and studying his sleeping face.
After a minute, I decide to curl up in bed beside him, tucking my body against his. Even though it's clear from his breathing that he's still out cold, Oscar throws an arm around my body and holds me close.
In the middle of the night, I wake up and find him standing over me.
“They're back,” is all he says, turning and leaving the room as I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. The bed still feels nice and warm behind me, like maybe Oscar didn't get up all that long ago. I climb out of the covers and head down the stairs, finding the boys outside smoking joints.
I'm beyond relieved to see them all safe.
“Here,” Cal offers me up a joint, but as soon as I get close to him, he yanks me down into his lap and envelops me in his oversized hoodie. “Sorry to wake you up so late,” he says, grinning as he presses his face to the side of my neck. “But we have news.”
“Good news?” I quip, sitting back and looking down the row of boys in their pj's, several joints making the rounds amongst them.
“Not really,” Hael says, scratching his temple with a single finger. He looks exhausted, so I grab Cal's phone from his pocket to check the time. It's nearly four in the morning. “The Charter Crew took over Wesley's, smashed a bunch of windows, terrorized a bunch of kids who were just trying to grab a burger and a quickie.” He takes a drag on his joint and exhales, filling the air with skunk-y sweet smoke.
“Okay, and?” Aaron asks, rubbing at his face, clearly tired and cranky and ready for a few more hours of sleep. “What else?”
“They've padded their numbers with hired thugs,” Callum explains as my eyes drift over to Oscar. He's sitting in the chair furthest away from me and refusing to partake in proper weed culture. It's all about sharing and passing, but yet again, he refuses to participate. His iPad is open on his lap, but he's not looking at it, staring up at the round silver disc of the moon. “The only people from Prescott High that were there were their core crew: Mitch, Billie, Kali, Logan, Timmy, and Kyler. It was very clearly a set-up.”
“Holy shit,” I murmur, flicking my attention to Vic. He gives me a very slow, very lazy smile that clearly says, told ya, princess. Glad I sent your ass home? I ignore him. “So they have to be working for Ophelia then, right? I mean, to get the money for something like that?”
“At this point, I'd almost guarantee it,” Victor says with a slight nod, glancing over at Oscar. “You reckon she's keeping Mitch around, so she can play this off as just some high school turf war shit?”
“More than likely,” Oscar replies, turning back to look at us. I'm relieved to hear that he sounds like he always does, smooth and cold and calculating. Everything else about him is different right now. His lack of glasses, his casually wrinkled clothing, his bruised face. Even the warmth I can still feel at my back, from where his body was pressed into mine is different. “She can safely assume that the world will infer that anything that happens to us is a result of a petty, little gang war. If the media found out that her son's wife was executed in cold blood by a