Chapter 7 – ELLIE
ELLIE
Age Seventeen
The July heat is fucking suffocating, but I keep the pastel pink hoodie on anyway. Sweat trickles down my spine, making the fabric stick to the bruises blooming across my ribs. Every breath hurts, but I've gotten good at hiding that kind of shit.
I lean against the peeling side of our old RV where we’ve made so many memories, trying to look casual instead of like I'm using it to hold myself upright. My phone buzzes, probably Mom wondering where I am again. I ignore it. She made her choice when she said yes to that bastard's proposal.
Six months. That's how long Todd fucking Waterson has been in our lives, and already, everything's gone to hell.
The familiar rumble of Kade's obnoxious new Thunderbird cuts through the summer symphony of croaking cicadas. My chest tightens, but not from the bruises this time. I force my face to look normal as three doors slam in quick succession.
"Princess!" Jinx bounds toward me like an overgrown golden retriever, his blond hair whipping around tanned shoulders too broad for his lanky frame. He hit another growth spurt recently. "You're early. Must've missed us."
“Don't flatter yourself, pretty boy,” I say, managing a grin so the words come out steadier than I feel. “Just needed to escape the tin can for a bit.”
Cyrus adjusts his glasses, those forest-hued eyes already narrowed behind them in suspicion. "It's a hundred fucking degrees and you're wearing a hoodie."
He's one to talk in a fucking pitch-black button down, but at least it's short sleeved. We may be teenaged trailer trash, but Cyrus’s idea of weekend wear is still business casual with a goth flair, and dammit, the whole Dark Clark Kent thing kind of works for him.
He's only an inch taller than Jinx now, but he packs a hell of a lot of menace into that inch, and they both tower over me.
I flip him off playfully. "Not all of us want to dress like we raided a Brooks Brothers dumpster."
He rolls his eyes, like he's too cool for a response. Kade is the one I can always count on for banter, but he hasn't said anything yet. He's just watching me with those gray eyes the exact color of the stolen lighter he's flicking open and closed like a serial killer.
His brown hair is slicked back away from his face in that style he's been wearing lately that makes him look like the complete and utter delinquent he is.
He fancies himself a young mobster, and I have to admit, he looks the part.
Especially with the tattoos that keep spreading further up his arms, most of them related to fire in some way.
There's even one on his throat now. A death's head moth.
Tank's motorcycle growls into the clearing, saving me from whatever interrogation Kade's planning. He kills the engine and pulls off his helmet, dark hair tousled before he smooths it down. Even though he was wearing a helmet with a full visor and it’s a hundred fucking degrees out, he’s still wearing the bandana he never takes off, and he has to tug at his bandana to keep it from sticking to his jaw.
I still haven't seen what's underneath it, but the scarring seems to get worse each year, somehow, especially the one that pulls at his right eye.
And yet he's the one who looks worried about me.
"So, what's the plan?" I push off the RV, ignoring the protest from my ribs. "Please tell me someone brought beer."
"Better." Jinx produces a bottle of stolen vodka from his backpack with a flourish. "Courtesy of the latest deadbeat asshole my mom's shacking up with. Won't even notice it's missing."
I wish Todd were half as oblivious.
We pile into the RV, our collective home away from home.
When we were kids, it was our clubhouse.
Sometimes the tower Jinx and Tank would defend as my gallant knight and fearsome dragon, respectively, while Cyrus and Kade laid siege as an invading army.
Now, it's mostly just the place we escape the shithead adults in our lives and get wasted.
The inside smells like mildew and weed and home.
I curl into my usual spot on the broken couch, tucking my legs under me.
Tank settles beside me, solid and safe, and I rest my cheek on his muscled shoulder.
Jinx sprawls on the floor by Cyrus, already launching into a story about some girl from his psych class.
"—and then she says, 'I don't date guys prettier than me,' like that's supposed to be an insult." He takes a swig from the vodka bottle. "Joke's on her. I am prettier."
"Your ego's showing," I tell him, but I'm smiling for real now. This is what I need. Just one more perfect day with my boys before everything goes to shit.
Cyrus has his laptop out, typing fast like he's about to commit another international felony. "Movie theater's showing that new horror flick tonight. Want me to—"
"Yes," we all say in unison.
“Already on it,” Cy says with a grin, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he prepares to hack into the theater's website to score us free tickets.
Perks of being the only halfway decent "webdev" in town.
He built back doors into all the sites. Even if he's smart enough to get in without that—he coded an entire video game in a weekend just to prove a point—Cy's con-artist-slash-lazy-ass tendencies usually win out.
The vodka makes its rounds. I take smaller sips than usual since I can't risk getting drunk and saying something stupid. Like the truth. Kade notices, because of course he fucking does, but he doesn't call me out. Just keeps flicking that lighter.
Ride? Tank signs suddenly, standing up. He holds out his hand to me.
"Fuck yes." I need the wind, the speed, the illusion of freedom.
Outside, he hands me his helmet. I've worn it a hundred times, but today my hands shake as I fasten the strap. He notices—they all notice everything about me—but doesn't comment. Just waits patiently while I climb on behind him.
The engine roars to life, and then we're flying. I press my face against his back, breathe in the scent of leather and that cheap aftershave that’s somehow comforting even though it belongs to the guy the entire town is terrified of.
My arms are wrapped around his chest as far as I can reach, and for a few precious minutes, nothing else exists.
No bruises.
No impending stepfather.
No goodbye in my throat that tastes like fucking arsenic.
We race through the back roads, taking corners too fast, chasing something we can't name. The others follow in Kade's car, Jinx hanging out the window like the golden retriever he is.
This is us. This is home.
This is everything I'm about to lose.
When we finally stop at the overlook, I'm not ready. I’ll never be ready. But I slide off the bike anyway, pulling off the helmet. My hair's a mess, pink streaks tangled with blonde, but I don't care.
You okay? Tank signs, and the gentleness in those dark eyes breaks something inside me.
"Perfect," I croak.
The others join us, and we sit on the hood of Kade's car, passing the vodka around and watching the sun sink toward the horizon. The tin roofs look fucking beautiful tonight.
Jinx regales us with more stories, each more ridiculous than the last. He's a pathological liar, but it's part of his charm.
Cyrus shows us some hack he's working on. Tank is silent as always, but his shoulder presses against mine deliberately, solid and warm. Kade shares his joint, and for once, he’s as quiet as his brother.
Tell them. Tell them now.
But I can't. Not yet. Just a little longer in this bubble where nothing has to change.
"Remember when we tried to build that raft?" Jinx asks suddenly, grinning. "Ellie swore it would float."
He doesn’t go down memory lane often. He must know something’s up, even subconsciously. My stomach clenches.
"It did float," I protest, hoping they don’t pick up on how tight my voice sounds. "For like thirty seconds."
"Before sinking with all of us on it," Cyrus adds. "I lost my favorite glasses in that creek. Had to wear the ones with the taped rim for weeks."
"Worth it," Kade says quietly.
Yeah. They can definitely tell something’s up.
The sun dips lower, painting everything red. It looks like an apocalypse, like the entire world is coming to an end tonight.
I can't put it off anymore.
"I have to tell you guys something."
They all turn to look at me, and I want to take it back, swallow the words, pretend everything's fine for just one more hour. Fuck. One more minute, even.
"What's wrong?" Kade's voice is sharp and alert.
Ready for me to point him at someone he can take apart with his fists, just like he did with that asshole who tried to snap a pic of me going up the mall escalator.
My knights in torn denim and battered leather who would burn the world down for me. All of them.
“My mom's getting married,” I say, picking at the frayed seam on the sleeve of my hoodie. “To Todd.”
Silence. Even Jinx has nothing to say.
"The fucking mayor?" Cy finally blurts out, his voice so incredulous I can't help laughing.
It comes out more like a sob.
"We're moving." I force myself to continue. "Tomorrow. To his place across town."
Silence. Even the cicadas don't seem to know what to say.
"Across town?" Cyrus's voice cracks slightly. "That's... that's not far."
I nod frantically, like I can somehow convince myself along with them. "It's not that far. Nothing is going to change."
The words feel hollow even as they leave my mouth. Kade's lighter stops clicking. I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, calculating distances and social barriers with the same analytical mind he uses to plan all our variably illegal escapades.
"Creekside Estates to Blue River Heights." His voice is flat, clinical. "Might as well be different fucking planets."
"Kade—"