the worst. I peeked through splayed fingers to find Brando handling his own. He seemed built for the fight, his anger the fuel feeding the fire. This almost seemed like child’s play to him, a way to release pent up aggression, no more.
Maggie Beautiful came out of nowhere with a crazed war cry and jumped on one of their backs. She was a wild woman in motion. Then Mitch and his band joined in.
Sirens wailed. People started running. Brando swooped me up, running with the thread of the crowd, but it was too late. We were busted.
Brando was mad with fury when Sheriff Stone handcuffed me and then put me in the back of his car. It took four deputies to hold him down. The sheriff didn’t abuse Brando like he had before. He talked to him in a soft, calming voice, out of revenge, and then released him.
I took her, but I’m not taking you. Ha!
Sheriff Stone took me home and had a nice chitchat with my parents. After he left, my father said nothing and my mother shouted in Slovenian until she lost her voice. The night wore on and I couldn’t sleep. Just past two a.m. small taps against my window spurred me to look.
Brando. Throwing rocks.
I snuck out, meeting him in the back of the house, following him in silence as we walked to the river. The white silk that covered my body gleamed in the night. The alcohol on his breath and clothes seemed to make the humid air thicker.
He said a lot of things. You’re crazy as hell. Reckless. Too reckless with your future. Too reckless for your own good. I can’t do this anymore. Not now. You have your entire life ahead of you. Stay away from me, Scarlett. I’m going to stay away from you. And I don’t want you around Maggie Beautiful. You hear me? You got all your firsts. I gave you all that I could.
He had once said that I drove him wild; in that moment I understood that “wild” was close to the truth, but not the entire truth. I had somehow gifted him a swinging pendulum that went back and forth between peace and insanity. His love for me gave him peace; at the same time, it drove him mad. Letting me go gave him peace; at the same time, it drove him mad.
I had always hovered over the precipice, the chasm of his chest, knowing that I was fighting against the current of his love and his strong will.
But I thought, I truly thought, that I had a fighting chance.
Even armed with the truth, I continued to fight with him, his silence colder than a winter’s night. In the end, though, the solid, unwavering tone of his voice, the hardened eyes, and the convictions spurring him on proved too much for me. But I refused to accept it, even after he left.
I knocked on Maggie Beautiful’s door. No answer.
I went to every party by the tracks. No one spoke to me. In fact, most of them treated me as though I were a leper. Brando put the fear of God into them, Violet had informed me.
I went on a date with Travis to the movies; he wasn’t fazed by Brando’s threats. Brando never appeared. Travis had to go back to school, and all of the leverage I felt like I had went with him.
To make Brando see reason, I knew I had to flirt with danger to tempt fate.
I swore to myself that if he didn’t approach me, I wouldn’t approach him. But he seemed to sense my desperation. He had been waiting for it. Counting on it.
“Scarlett,” he nodded. His grin came slow and easy.
I shut my locker. “Ace.”
“I heard about you and Brando. I was real sorry to hear it. There’s nothing sadder than unrequited love.” His grin grew even wider. “A dance with the devil will bring that pretty smile of yours back.”
“Do you know of a devil that’s ready to dance with me? I was made just for dancing. Or so I’ve been told.”
He held out his arm. “Right this way.”
Chapter Thirty
Scarlett
The fatal cut of separation is a wound that never truly heals—if it doesn’t kill you, it maims. It always leaves a scar, a brand that forever reminds you of the true meaning of fear and desolation. Brand—Brando? Coincidence? My heart thought not.
A song, an awful song refused to quit. The melody haunted and the lyrics taunted. Around and around and