Chapter 7 – ELLIE #2
"That's a gated community, Princess." The nickname sounds different coming from him now. Bitter. "The kind of place with security guards and homeowners’ associations that won’t even let you put a fucking flamingo in your yard. The kind of place designed specifically to keep trash like us out."
The accusation hits like the gut punch I still have the bruise from, courtesy of Todd. I may or may not have had a very public meltdown when he and Mom announced their engagement at a fancy restaurant owned by one of his campaign donors, and he made his feelings about it known in private.
“It's not like that,” I mutter.
"Isn't it?" He slides off the hood of his car, and suddenly he's towering over me, the smoking joint still stuck between his tattooed fingers. "You're moving into Mayor Waterson's mansion. How long before you decide we're too fucking embarrassing for your new life?"
"That's not—I would never—" The words tangle in my throat.
Because part of me, the part that's been beaten down by Todd's endless criticisms, wonders if maybe he's right.
Maybe I will change. Maybe I'll become someone who's ashamed of where I came from.
Someone who wants to cut off all the best parts of me.
"Bullshit." Kade's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "You think we're stupid? You think we don't know how this works? Pretty girl gets rescued from the trailer park, becomes pretty rich girl, starts dating jocks and leaves the losers behind. Tale as old as fucking time."
"Kade," Jinx pleads.
Tank gives a warning growl. It's the first time I've heard him go against his brother since he brought me into the group, and it actually gives Kade pause for a second.
But the coldness comes back into Kade’s eyes immediately.
“I’m not leaving you.” The fear and desperation in my voice makes me wince. “I’ll still see you guys. We'll still hang out here, still—”
"When?" Cyrus interrupts, his laptop forgotten beside him. “Between charity galas? When you’re not busy doing whatever else rich people do for fun?"
"Probably hunting freaks like us for sport," Jinx mumbles, because he watches way too many horror movies.
"You don't understand." I'm grasping at straws now, trying to hold together something that's already falling apart. "It's just a house. Just a different address. I’ll still be me."
Kade laughs bitterly. "Sure, Princess. Because money and status never change people. Ask anyone who's ever crawled out of the gutter."
“I won't change,” I bite out. “I swear, nothing will change.”
Tank reaches for me, his scarred fingers gentle against mine as they wrap around my entire hand. I cling to him as tight as I can.
I can tell Kade wants to argue, but he doesn't. I'm not sure if it's because he thinks Tank will flatten him into the pavement if he uses that tone with me again, or if it’s just because he doesn't think it's worth it to argue.
Either way, Kade's gaze burns hotter than the lighter he's obsessively flicking again.
"Whatever," he finally says, the word dripping with venom. "Enjoy your new life in the mansion, Princess. Hope it's everything you ever fucking dreamed of."
"That's not fair," I say, my voice smaller than I want it to be. "This isn't my choice."
"Life isn't fair." Kade's jaw tightens, the muscles working beneath his skin. "You think any of us got a choice about the shit we deal with? You think Tank chose to get his face torn apart by fucking dogs? You think Jinx chose to have a mom who brings home a new abusive asshole every month?"
"Dude," Jinx warns, but Kade's already on a roll.
"You've always had one foot out the door, Ellie. We all knew it. You were just slumming it with us until something better came along."
"Kade, man, come on," Cyrus barks, but Kade's already stalking back to his car.
"I'm out. Anyone who wants a ride better get in now."
Tank stays rooted beside me as always, his hand still wrapped around mine. But Jinx and Cyrus exchange looks, clearly torn.
"We'll figure it out," Jinx says, giving me a quick, fierce hug. "Kade's just being Kade. He'll cool off."
But the look in his eyes tells a different story. He doesn't believe it any more than I do.
"We'll still see each other at school," Cyrus offers awkwardly, pushing his glasses up. "It's not like you're moving to another state."
What I don't tell him—what I don't even have the strength to acknowledge to myself—is that starting Monday, I won't be going to Creekside High anymore.
The irony of the mayor of the damn town wanting to send his future stepdaughter to a private school where they wear uniforms and drink sparkling water out of a fountain isn't lost on me.
It doesn't matter that it means ripping me away from the only friends I've ever known for senior year.
"It's a good opportunity," Mom had insisted, clearly not understanding why the fuck I was sobbing about leaving a trailer park.
"Colleges will take you more seriously coming from Pembroke than Creekside. "
Yeah, right. More like Todd doesn't want his country club buddies knowing his new daughter is trailer trash.
Kade lays on the horn, three short, angry blasts.
"We should go," Jinx says reluctantly. “Before Kade has a complete meltdown and sets something on fire.”
Cyrus hesitates, then pulls me into a stiff hug of his own. "Text us your new address," he mumbles against my hair. "We'll figure something out."
The two of them jog to Kade's car, climbing in with backward glances at me. The engine roars to life, tires spitting gravel as Kade peels out of the overlook, leaving Tank and me alone with the setting sun.
"He hates me," I whisper.
Tank shakes his head firmly, his hands moving in the signs I'm fluent in now. Not hate. He’s scared.
"Of what?"
Losing you. His eyes, so soft and sad and kind despite the scars, meet mine. We all are.
The truth of it settles over me like a shadow. I've never lied to them before, at least not about anything that mattered.
But today, I've told the biggest lie of all.
Because deep down, I know everything is going to change. I know Todd won't let me see them again. I know my phone will be monitored, my movements tracked, my freedom ripped away.
I know this is goodbye, even if they don't.
Tank offers me his helmet again, and I take it with trembling hands. But instead of heading toward the trailer park, he turns onto the old county road that winds through the farmland outside town.
I don't question it. I just hold on tighter.
We ride past the creek where we built that doomed raft, past the abandoned barn where Kade taught me to throw a punch, past the field where we used to lie on our backs and watch meteor showers because none of us had anywhere better to be.
Tank takes every detour, every scenic route, like he's trying to stretch this night into something infinite. His back is solid and warm, and I try to memorize the feel of it—the leather, the rumble of the engine vibrating through our bodies, the way his muscles shift when he takes a turn.
He knows. Maybe not the specifics, but he knows something's wrong. Something bigger than a new address and a rich stepfather.
And this is his way of giving me more time. Giving us more time. More moments to hold onto when everything falls apart.
When Tank finally pulls up to my trailer, the sky has gone full dark and the stars are out in force. I slide off the bike but I don't let go of his arm right away. Tank cuts the engine, and the sudden silence feels enormous.
You'll be okay, he signs, but it's more question than a statement.
“Yeah,” I murmur, pulling off the helmet and fighting back the tears I let spill on the ride when he couldn’t see me cry. “I’ll be okay.”
He reaches out, his massive hand cupping my cheek with impossible gentleness.
His thumb brushes away a tear I didn't know had slipped out. For a long moment, we just look at each other, and I realize we’re memorizing each other’s faces.
I wish for one desperate moment I could see the rest of his. But I can’t ask for that.
I'll find you, he signs. If you need me. I'll always find you.
"I know," I whisper. "I know you will."
And suddenly, I’m pushing myself up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, right over the scar that cuts through his eye. He freezes, staring at me, his fingers trembling as he touches the spot where I just kissed him like he can’t believe what just happened.
I force myself to walk toward the trailer without looking back.
And I can only do it because I’m already telling another lie. That this isn’t goodbye, it's see you later. That I'll find a way—a way to fix everything, to hang onto the four pillars who've always held me up when everything else was collapsing.
This lie’s just for me.
But I feel his eyes on me. And when I finally break and glance over my shoulder, he's still there, silhouetted against the dying light.
His hand rises. Pinky extended. Index finger. Thumb. The same handshape as I love you.
My heart stutters.
Then his hand arcs away from his body.
Fly.