Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Wilder
When I pull up outside the police station, Izzy is sitting on the steps. Her chin is propped up on her hand, and she looks so sad. Miserably sad. My heart lurches at just the sight of her, and something twists inside of me, knowing that she must have texted me because she had no one else to ask.
I always have my family to call when I need them. What must it be like to have no one but me?
And did she get the same offer we did-- reform school or jail? Or was it a special offer just for those of us with parents who care? My hands tighten on the steering wheel. If she’s out here, that must mean she got the same deal.
She’s going to be okay.
I get out of the driver’s side and hustle around the car to her, my feelings growing more complicated with each step. “Are you okay?”
She stands up, frowning. “Yeah. Thanks for coming.”
“I would’ve waited for you. They told me your mom was coming.”
Her lips twist. “No problem. You don’t owe me anything, Noah.”
What’s with her attitude? Somehow I expected her to be sad, not angry, but then she’s been so prickly lately. Not that I blame her.
I don’t want to deal with it right now, though, so I nod at the radio. “You can pick the music if you want.”
She’s still frowning as she leans forward and flicks the radio on. Music fills the car as a country singer wails, “When you said I love you, I believed you…everyone’s stupid sometimes.”
The song makes me think of her argument with Aiden. I don’t want to revisit the past, because what happened between us a few years ago sucks. “You know the rules. No country music.”
She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t mind it when we were kids.” She twists the dial.
This time, it’s a bouncy pop song. Not really my style, but I’m fine with it until I really hear the refrain. “I thought you were my ride-or-die, turns out you were just a lie…”
She glances at me with those big brown eyes. I reach over and twist the dial.
This time, it’s one of my favorite bands. Singing a song that I used to like about...being abandoned.
“Izzy,” I say, then give up. I can’t shake the feeling that somehow she’s controlling the music, that she’s pissed at me and she’s letting me know, but that makes no sense.
“What?” she demands.
I shake my head. It’s too stupid to say out loud.
She’s smoothing a college brochure in her lap absently. Good, something safe to talk about. Everything between us feels like a minefield lately. “Thinking about that reform school?”
“Do we have much of a choice?” she asks.
The idea that we’re all choosing it over jail leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but I try to keep my voice light. “It doesn’t sound so bad.”
She holds up the brochure as we pause at a red light, and I glance at it. “God Fire College?”
She turns it in her hand, frowning. “That’s what I thought I read at first. Weird font, I guess. It’s Godfrey College.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Me either, but it’s supposed to be a really good school…according to its own brochure.” She grins. “But I doubt it’s this fancy. These are probably from some other place, and this Godfrey reform school is more like a step up from a prison.”
I kind of hate that she’s voiced my fears aloud.
From the second I got into the car earlier with my parents, my mom had been crying.
She said I was going some place with a bunch of dangerous criminals, a place that will destroy the rest of my life.
I spent the entire ride with a fake excited voice, saying that it was actually a blessing, that this reform school looks nicer than where I planned to go.
But given that my dad barely glanced at me before locking him and my mom in their bedroom, I don’t think they buy my fake cheery attitude. They probably have the same sense that I have, that it’s like this one day has changed my life forever.
Not that I’m going to freak Izzy out more by telling her that.
“I thought you’d stay local for college,” I say, keeping my voice casual.
She shrugs.
So I keep talking. “Aiden had submitted a few applications at the universities and community colleges around us, although he hasn’t said if he’s made any kind of decision yet.
Reid is going out of state, same as me. We all knew Van was abandoning us for the Ivy Leagues.
But, I guess, I never really asked what you were doing. ”
“Are you going to play ball in college?” she asks, avoiding my question.
Does she not want to tell me? Or did she not have a plan?
“I don’t know if I’m that good.” I shrug. Lots of guys that rule their school don’t have the kind of skills to go pro. Being a big deal at eighteen is not actually being a big deal. “But yeah, I’ve got a scholarship for Clark.”
She nods. I can’t believe we haven’t talked about this before. I’ve known I was going to Clark since January. I don’t know why I’ve stayed so far away from her.
Well, I mean...it began with four boys, who loved the same girl, making a stupid, stupid promise they never should have.
But I’m not a boy anymore. I don’t know why I stuck with it.
“We would’ve seen each other on holidays and stuff,” I say.
Disbelief flashes across her face. “Yeah, maybe.”
I pull up in front of her house just as my phone dings with a text message. Mom.
“Noah,” she says, turning slowly to me. “Are you guys really planning to just accept the reform school thing?”
I study her. “Do we have another choice?”
She shrugs, looking away from me. “I don’t have another choice, but maybe your parents will fight it…”
My gut turns. The thing is, Van’s dad definitely will. My parents and the twins’ parents might, even though I never really thought about it. This jail or reform school seemed like our only choice, but maybe I’m wrong.
Which means there’s a chance that things haven’t changed forever. Which should be a relief, but somehow it’s not. Because if we all went to this school, we’d be together. And if we don’t, we’ll go our separate ways.
Maybe never coming together again.
Is that why she’s acting so weird? I just wished I could tell her honestly that we would all definitely be together.
“I can pick you up tomorrow,” I tell her, because I don’t want to say goodbye.
“To go where?” She smiles at me, patting my knee. Her touch is electric, and she pauses, as if she feels it too. “No school.”
“We’ll go somewhere, then,” I say.
She smiles but doesn’t answer before getting out of the car. It bothers me, but she trudges slowly across the yard to the little ramshackle house.
I glance at Reid and Aiden’s house next door. I remember when we all first met, she lived a few blocks from me. She used to come down to our cul de sac to play every afternoon. She always wore long-sleeved shirts, no matter how hot it was.
When they took her away, I thought I’d never see her again. When she was placed in the foster home right next door to Aiden and Reid, I’d hugged her so tight that I’d felt her chest hitch as she held back tears.
I fucked up all of that so badly, and I don’t know how to fix it now.
I’m replying to my mom, who wants to know if I ever heard of Godfrey College, when shouting draws my attention.
A trash bag comes sailing out of Izzy’s front door, then another one.
Izzy storms down the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest. Her posture is stiff, perfect, the way it is when she’s hurt.
She turns to face her foster mom, who is still shouting at her from the doorway.
I unroll my window, wanting to tell her to come back into my car. Whatever’s going on, she doesn’t need to deal with it alone, but then their words hit me.
“You were always the worst,” Izzy says, her voice low and cool and cutting, and her foster mother actually pauses. “What kind of monster doesn’t love a child? I did everything I could to earn your love. But I shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have made me feel like I did.”
She throws one bag over her shoulder and grabs the other, staggering with them toward the road.
Her foster mom calls after her. “Some kids are easy to love. You aren’t one of them.”
My gut clenches as I see the words hit Izzy, her face freezing. I jump out of the car, just as another car pulls up across the road, an expensive black car with darkened windows.
A tall man in a gray suit gets out of the car and crosses to Izzy.
Mr. Time. The same guy who greeted us at the police station. Who smiled at my parents and handed us the brochure.
“Your foster mother told me that you might be looking for a new place to live. Godfrey is offering you a full scholarship, including room and board. Starting today.”
My gut clenches. If Izzy goes, that’s it. No way out for her. She’s accepting she has no other choice.
And then we have to decide what to do.
She eyes him warily. “Sounds too good to be true.”
“There might be another way,” I tell her, feeling strangely like I’m losing her all over again.
She doesn’t look at me, just stares at Mr. Time. Waiting.
His lips purse, his expression relaxed, but something flickers in his eyes. “Just because life can be dark doesn't mean it’s always going to be dark, Izzy. This is an opportunity.”
“I’ll take her home with me,” I tell him. Then, I look to her. “We can talk to lawyers. We can look for another solution.”
Izzy gapes up at me like she isn’t sure about that at all.
He nods, steepling his fingers together.
“Well, Mr. Wilder, the police are still very interested in the five of you,” he says.
“Your parents agree with me that it would be wise for you to start fresh, so you’d only be putting off the inevitable.
One way or another, all of you will join me at my school. ”
I stare at him, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The sense of being trapped creeps up my spine.
Izzy tugs absently on the end of her ponytail. “Thanks, Noah, but I’ve got to go somewhere. Not just run away.”
“My house is somewhere,” I argue, even though I’m not sure about anything anymore.
She offers me a thin smile. “I’m going to the reform school.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I picture her in some sketchy school with a bunch of dangerous criminals. My Izzy.
“If you’re going, I’m going,” I tell her, suddenly absolutely certain that I’d do anything to keep her in my life. “At least...for now.”
“For now,” Mr. Time agrees.
But there’s a glint of triumph in his eyes that sets me on edge. And that sense-- that my life is being changed forever-- it deepens.