"Oh God," I huff out. "I can't do this."
Her hands land on my shoulders, and she massages me softly.
"You're in, Nyx. I can feel it. This is to tell you that you got your scholarship."
"But what if I didn't? Silver Falls University has never,everhanded out a scholarship."
"Because no one was ever good enough for it. Until you."
I shake my head. I won't believe it until I see it, and I don't want to open this envelope.
Geographically speaking, Silver Falls University is on the South Bank of Silver Falls, meaning it's not very far from here. Not far from North Shore Community College, which I graduated from last month, after two years of working my ass off to get the best grades possible.
In reality, the two places are more like different worlds. There's no possible physical representation of how far apart we are. SFU is the best college in the country. It's where the elite kids of billionaires go. It's not for…us. I just finished studying at a college where two people were shot in the middle of class in the span of six months. A rundown place that teaches barely anyone from the North Shore since we don't typically achieve highereducation. Most kids are from outside of here but can't afford to go anywhere else. We're the cheapest for a reason.
My biggest dream is to study music at Silver Falls University. Where I could have a future. SFU School of Music has sent more musicians to orchestras than any other music school in the US. And I'm the closest I've ever been to attending, because a few months ago, I got a letter saying that, following my application, they were sending a representative to review my scholarship application. I’d never seen so many zeros after a digit. A four-bedroom house on the North Shore is cheaper than a year at SFU. Much cheaper. And I could never afford a four-bedroom house here.
For two months, a scout from their music department came to watch me perform the violin, interviewed me, and waited until I got my exam results.
Today is the day. Today, I learn if I got that scholarship to get me out of this fucked-up town and on the other side of the river. Where the one percent studies, where kids have a future. Where the grass grows green, and the sun shines warmer on your skin.
That's my dream.
"I can't open it," I rasp, too overwhelmed by the possibility of this being another dream to die. "I just can't."
I stuff the envelope in my apron and turn to my friend. "Later, maybe."
Maybe if I get in my car after work and go all the way to the bridge, if I cross onto the South Bank, and if I park near SFU, it'll be a luckier place to open this letter.
"Nyx, you can't do this to me. Open it," Lena scolds me.
"No. We're opening in three minutes. Count the cash in the register, and I'll finish setting up the tables."
Six to seven is busy with all the early workers who have jobs in the industrial zone right outside our town. We're perfectly placed on their way to work. They come for the same orders every morning and leave in a hurry with a wink and the same tip. Regulars are the best.
They also leave before the second round of regulars arrive. The ones who don't have much to do and come because it's a place with no windows where you can have talks no one else should hear.
The North Shore has always been terrible, but it used to be worse than it is now. Until barely three years ago, it was still split into two dangerous gangs who had no scruple killing each other in broad daylight. I grew up fearing both the North Shore Crew and the Kings, but I also always had the protection of the Kings leader, Kayla. She took me under her wing from a young age and became the older sister I never had. And yet she categorically refused to let me join her gang, always said I was destined for better things.
Technically, the conflict was resolved when someone richer and more dangerous than anyone from here came along and united the town under his rule. The only issue is that it's impossible to control everyone. There will always be people who want to go back to the old days. Greed, power, money, but mainly for revenge. Not everyone can pretend the Kings and NSC didn't used to butcher each other. Not everyone can forget the people they lost to their enemies. There’s a well-established rebellion against the current ruler here, but they know how to be discreet for now. All I hope is I'll be long gone by the time it all blows up.
I approach a table of customers and smile at the men around my age who I see here at least three times a week. They used to be Kings. In fact, this place used to only be frequented by members of the Kings' crew, and in three years of pretend peace,I’ve yet to see anyone who used to be NSC enter The Basement. Locals who weren't involved in gangs started coming more, but it's still very much old gang members who consider this their turf.
"Hi, guys." I smile. "You're here early." I pour coffee into Cash's mug and look around the table. "Chase not here?"
There are always three of them, and clearly only two today.
It's Bennett who answers. "Your boyfriend had a few things to do at the repair shop. But don't worry, he'll come say hi."
I don't love the patronizing way he says that. As if I can't survive a shift if Chase doesn't stop by. Mainly, I'm not allowed to know what happens at the repair shop.
I ignore the yearning to belong that I've always had around Kings and pour Bennett his coffee.
"How's Ashley?" I ask in a way that's supposed to seem unaffected.
"Good," Bennett answers coldly.
I keep smiling through gritted teeth. I know what he thinks of me. I know what most Kings think of me. That I was never one of them in the first place. I had no friends among them because I had Kayla's protection without doing any of the work her crew did for her. It's worse now that they all think Kayla gave up on the Kings to unite the town. That she married the man who controls the whole place. I'm still associated with her, and she has a lot of enemies within her old crew. People think she sold her soul to the devil for her own peace. She didn't consult the people who worked for her, and they felt abandoned. Betrayed.
