Chapter 1 #2
“Thank you,” I say cordially. I’m still not in the mood to speak, but that doesn’t matter here. Everyone in this town is a vulture, and you have to keep your emotions level if you don’t want anyone to know there’s trouble in paradise. “We just wrote a new chant, I’m hoping the others will like it.”
“Your cheers are wonderful,” Quinn comments as she eats a grape from the container in front of her. “I’m sure most of the squad will take to it.”
We eat in relative silence for a moment, stopping to talk here and there about any events coming up in the town square.
My stomach feels uneasy as I think about what Brent said, the way he steamrolled me into deciding that I wasn’t going.
I don’t like being controlled, and Brent is someone who has to call the shots.
It’s always felt like something we could overcome, but now it settles in my stomach like soured milk, the aftertaste nothing but rotten luck mixed up in a seemingly perfect package.
I look out over the courtyard, the mass of green that’s probably a bit too big for our college’s small population.
It’s in the center of all the major buildings, the cafeteria and the one lonely dorm nearby.
My eyes flash to the far corner where there’s a beautiful oak standing tall by itself.
Two figures are shrouded in the shadows of its branches, lounging in the grass underneath.
Axl Ritchie looks as eccentric and carefree as ever.
His band T-shirt is way too thin for the cool weather, and his black jeans are bulky with chains.
His drumsticks that are usually in his back pocket sit on the grass beside him, the wood clean and taken care of.
My throat bobs with an involuntary swallow.
He smokes a cigarette, wrapping his lips around it and pulling until the end cherries.
The curdling in my stomach turns into something else.
Something light and fluttery that travels to the apex of my legs.
I watch him for a moment as his fingers move naturally by his side and then through his hair with ease.
He laughs at something his friend says, unadulterated glee bubbling from his lips.
There’s something so pretty about his joy, like he has the power to light up an entire room despite his dark clothing and the moody music he listens to.
I bet he would take me to the race, I think selfishly.
My heart skips a beat at the thought. Axl is an outsider even in a town as small as ours, but that originality always felt like more to me.
Like a beacon of hope, that something different could survive in this town.
And not only survive, but be the best of us in every single way, because despite the constant torment and mistreatment, he still walks around with his head held high and a cocky smile on his face.
He still happily greets those around him who sneer behind his back, knowing he has a more fulfilling life than they will ever understand.
It’s a fucking wonder to witness on a day-to-day basis.
But I can’t speak that out loud. My admiration for him has always been kept in a tiny box inside my chest, the key lost and forgotten. I have no intention of it ever getting out, not when it could be so detrimental to the way my life is supposed to be.
The way my life was built and crafted, with no individual thought in sight.
My cell phone vibrates on the table and I thank myself for putting it on silent, because the last thing I need is for my Avril Lavigne ringtone to play out loud in front of this group of people. They don’t deserve Avril, not in a million years.
“Oh my god,” Quinn gasps. “Is that the new hot pink Motorola?”
My lip curves. “It is. Isn’t it pretty?”
Both Hannah and Quinn gawk at it, their eyes wide with awe, but Gabby huffs out a breath. “Come on, those don’t come out until next year. It has to be a fake.”
Her statement makes the other two narrow their eyes suspiciously, falling for Gabby’s obvious attempt at undermining me.
I don’t mind, though. Cattiness has always been a part of our dynamic.
Our friendship with each other is more transactional than anything.
We look like the perfect group, but there’s thorns on every single one of us, keeping us from forming any real bond.
I like it that way. No one deserves to see who I really am, not even the people I call my best friends.
“My dad has a connection,” I say, matter-of-factly. “One of the perks of having a job that travels, ladies.”
I look at the text that just came through and pause, my skin suddenly tight with anger.
“I have to take this.”
My legs move without much thought, my eyes glued solely on the screen where the abhorred text sits.
Unknown Number:
Can’t give you location. Don’t want to be dead meat.
Fuck. This guy was my only hope. Not to mention, I paid him a hundred bucks to tell me the address, and now I’m shit out of luck.
There is no way I’m going to miss another racing extravaganza. Not again. I absolutely fucking refuse.
My eyes find the tall oak once more. A lone figure sits there, his friend no longer in sight.
A heavy sigh escapes me. It’s probably a bad idea.
Someone will probably see and then I’ll have to make up some excuse to explain why I was interacting with him, but I can’t think of anything worse than missing another Oakson Race.
My bones ache for it, for the adrenaline it will stir in them, so I set my sights on Axl and march forward.
It’s time to ask the devil for a favor.