Redemption Prep - Samuel Miller Page 0,52
. . . changed my focus.”
Aiden’s mouth felt dry. “To me?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah.”
“So . . . the hoods, last night—”
“The debate team.”
“And Evan Andrews?”
“That part’s real, actually.” He couldn’t tell if Peter was proud or ashamed. “He was following her, but I’m not sure it has anything to do with Apex.”
Aiden could feel the world spinning around him. “And you stole the bag?”
Peter nodded.
“You’ve been lying to me this entire time? For Apex?”
“Yeah,” Peter said, stretching the word out. “But it’s not like—”
“Yes it is!” Aiden felt his chest puffing like a motor engine. “Whatever you were about to say, whatever you think it isn’t, I guarantee you, it is. You just don’t understand it because you have no sense of right or wrong, or—fucking anything!”
“Oh?”
“You were gonna threaten to ruin my girlfriend’s life, just so you could get free drugs. Think about how insane that is? Then you lied about it to me—actually, no, you did more than that! You pretended somebody else was doing it, forced me to miss basketball practice—”
“I didn’t—”
Aiden motored on, raising his voice to talk over Peter. “—and made me run in fucking circles, for what? You ruined my life, just so you could get a little bit of Apex?”
Peter didn’t look remorseful at all. “I didn’t force you to do anything.”
“In what fucking world is that even human? You don’t give a shit about Emma—and you definitely don’t give a shit about me, you shitty, druggie, degenerate asshole!”
The words echoed across the empty back lawn, hanging in the air for a long minute. Aiden felt like he was coming up from underwater, gasping for air, clenching every part of his body that could be clenched.
Peter just shuffled his feet, waiting.
“Okay,” Aiden finally said. “I didn’t mean all of that—”
“Yeah you did,” Peter said. “But it’s good. You’ve been thinking it for a while, yeah?”
Aiden kept clutching at his chest. His heart felt like it was going to stop.
“Thing is,” Peter continued, “I’m alright with my choices. You didn’t say any shit I didn’t already know. At least I can say that, right?”
Aiden tried to balance again and failed, hyperactivity in his mouth and fingers and knees. “I wish I could be like you. And just not give a shit about other people.”
Peter glared at him. “You know, I actually kinda like this moment, seeing you all pissed, ’cause for once it didn’t work like you were thinking it was gonna.”
“That’s bullshit—”
“Naw, man, think about it. Really think about it. You’re so used to getting everything you want, just ’cause of who you are—basketball, money, fuck, even Emma—you don’t have a fucking clue what to do when you lose it. You don’t even know what it feels like to want something. And that makes you think that’s how life’s supposed to be? Naw, man, you’re born lucky. You’re a fucking haircut. You’re candy shit.”
“Are you serious? I worked for everything—”
“Naw, man. You took the path of least resistance. You got trainers, coaches, opportunities—you think you worked for it, but you just did what was right there in front of you. And the saddest part is, you’re completely oblivious. You don’t even know enough to know how fucking stupid you sound when you say, ‘I work for my shit.’ Kids here, man, they grew up in slums, trying to learn math by candles so they can fight a million other people to be the one that gets to come be a scientist? That’s successful. You’re not even close.”
Aiden felt like his throat had swollen closed.
“I took your drugs ’cause it was easy. I’m trying to find Emma so I don’t have to go back to my old life.” He swallowed. “We don’t find her, worst thing that happens to you is you gotta look sad on the news. You think me lying is some problem to you, you want to be pissed about it, it doesn’t change one fucking thing. You’re candy shit, man. And you don’t even know.”
They were still alone on the back lawn. Aiden hung his head, staring at nothing. His arms, his chest, the rest of his body swayed below him with the wind.
He couldn’t believe what an idiot he’d been. He’d betrayed every certainty in his life—basketball, his dad, his teammates—for a fucking hustle. He’d spent hours thinking about her, panicking about the danger she was in, when all of it was complete fiction. He’d blown up his entire life, for a hustle.
In the silence, the door to their right