“No, you can’t,” I say, calling the obvious bluff without looking at her. “You have a perfect attendance record and you won’t fuck that up. Not even for me.”
“Try me.”
I blink and face her once more. She reclines in the plastic seat and crosses her arms, lifting one leg and hooking it over her knee as if she’s ready to settle in for the long haul. Maybe she is. Even so, I can’t drag her into the mess that is my life. I’d do the same for Roquel, flighty as she is.
If there’s one thing losing everything has taught me, it’s that the people who lift you up when you have nothing to offer them deserve more than respect. They deserve my loyalty, and that means not getting them hurt or killed.
As I open my mouth, Mads lifts a hand and holds it up to me, palm out. “If you’re going to lie, don’t bother.” She blows out a breath, sending one of the loose strands hanging over her forehead flying up and then back down. “Just tell me you can’t tell me and let that be it.”
I frown. “That’s enough?” Surely, she can’t be serious.
Mads’ shoulders lift and fall. “I’d rather you say that than lie to my face.”
“What if I can never tell you?”
Again, she shrugs. “Then you can’t ever tell me, but I’ll know that when you can you will.”
I eye her, taking in all of the details that I’ve seen every time we’ve met up, but the ones that are like background noise. From her plain, unpainted nails to the bruises under her eyes and even the slight shape of a scar half hidden under the sleeve of hersweater. I’ve considered Madison Torres a friend for months, but today, it feels like I’m seeing her in a new light.
Is that the truth or have I just been so adamant that everyone around me is out to get me?
Instead of letting myself get absorbed in that question or realization, I give her an honest answer. “You’re right,” I say. “There’s something going on, but I can’t tell you.”
Mads slumps in her seat and uncrosses her legs. “Just tell me you’re safe,” she insists, leaning forward. “You’re still staying with Nolan, right?”
“Actually…” I grimace. “Sort of, but I’ve moved in with Lex for the time being—he’s got a bit more freedom on his aunt’s farm.”
“But you’re still with them?” I nod, and she lets out a breath, collapsing against the back of her chair.
“You seem relieved,” I comment.
Reaching up, Mads pulls her bun free. The cascade of white blonde hair flutters around her heart-shaped face like a swan’s feathers, but just as quickly, she yanks it all back and reties it in a ponytail that keeps most of it out of her face the way the bun hadn’t.
“I am,” she admits, scooting her chair closer to her desk and turning to face her computer screen. “I figured something must have happened to you Friday night when they took off the way they did. It was right in the middle of the game.” Her eyes slant back to me. “The whole school is going to be talking about it today.”
She’s right. There’s no avoiding the wagging tongues. Silverwood runs on gossip and scandal. Small towns are like that and if there’s money involved, it’s even worse. If I stay here, I’ll never escape my name or my background. Funny. I’ve been on both sides of Silverwood and after some consideration, they’re really not much different.
“Let them talk,” I finally say. “I can’t stop them, and trying will only give them more ammunition.” Mads eyes me and her lips quirk upwards once more. If anyone can understand those words, it’s definitely her.
There are hierarchies wherever you go. There are liars. Deceivers. Cheaters. The devils are among us, and they always have been. None of us are innocent.
7
JULIET
After getting reamed a new asshole—Gio’s words, not mine—by their coach, the guys met back up with me at lunch and told me of their punishment. Weeks of early-morning and after-school extra training. Mads had apparently told him they’d had a family emergency, but left with nothing to prove as much to Coach. Nolan had said their new schedule would be the only thing to keep them on the team and in front of the eyes of any potential scouts.
It’s almost a good thing I’m no longer working at The Dionysus Lounge since the new routine will make it impossible for me to be driven to and from Tangier. The thought of relying on the guys for all of my necessities, though, doesn’t sit well with me. I hadn’t been allowed to get a part-time job under my parents’ roof.
How would that make us look?
Do you need money?
Why would you even want to do that?
You should be focused on studying.
All of the rejections ricochet through my head as I spend most of the morning secretly scrolling through local part-time openings online. Anything people facing probably won’t work,but I save the retail jobs anyway. There’s one that I might be able to do if one of the guys lets me borrow their cars while they’re training in the mornings. But delivering papers won’t offer me nearly as much as waitressing at Ma-Ri’s had.
