Take Me On (6 page)

I yank my shoulder out of Ethan’s grasp. “No, she doesn’t.” It’s safe to say no one here wants me.

My brother says nothing more as I head for the elevator. As I said before, Rachel deserves better...including better than me.

Haley

“Haley Williams chooses, once again, another form. Could this be the one, ladies and gentlemen?” Jax mock whispers beside me. “A hush rolls over the crowd as Miss Williams glances over the wording. Her eyebrows furrow. Is this it? Will this be the one?”

My cousin spiked his whitish-blond hair into a Mohawk this morning, meaning he’s feeling ornery. If he keeps up the running commentary, he’ll discover how ornery I can be.

From over the open bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, I glare at Jax. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

Jax and I sit on the floor, tucked away in the corner of the main office. We’ve been here for an hour and the receptionists forgot we exist, so they gossip freely. The stench of cafeteria coffee transforms into a film over my clothing. I shudder with the knowledge that I’ll smell like this for the rest of the day.

He cracks a wide grin. “Yeah. If you tell me what’s doing then I can go do my thing.”

The ghetto to English translation of “what’s doing”: what am I hiding about Friday night. I didn’t spill this weekend and I don’t plan on spilling now.

It’s Monday morning and I woke early and took the city bus to school so I can, once again, peruse the filing cabinet full of scholarship applications. I use the internet at the library, but trying to find applicable scholarships on there is like trying to search for a lost ring in a sand dune.

“Nothing’s doing, so go do your
thang.
” I waggle my eyebrows and give him a sly smile. “There’s got to be a girl around here who hasn’t been done wrong by you.”

“You’d think, but evidently girls talk to each other. Damn shame.”

“Damn shame,” I echo. I cram another useless application back into a folder and yank yet another out. “Do you think I could pass for Alaska Native?”

“Sure.” He bites into an apple he five-finger discounted from the cafeteria and dangles a piece of paper in the air. “Bet you could pass for a guy who’s ranked in tennis, too.”

I snatch the application from his hands and shove it back into the cabinet. “Funny. Just wait until next year and you’ll be doing the desperate dance.”

“No, I won’t. High school is as far as I’m going.” Jax is a year younger than me, seventeen, and a junior. When we were younger, we were inseparable, but then he grew up, I grew breasts, he became interested in girls and I became interested in anything other than what I liked at ten.

“I’m getting a job,” he says. “And as far from Dad as possible.”

Amen to that. Guess we’re more alike than I originally thought.

A knock on the window that overlooks the main hallway grabs our attention. Kaden flips us off and mouths, “You suck!”

Jax laughs and flips the finger back. I giggle when Kaden shakes his head and stalks off. “You didn’t tell Kaden you were becoming my shadow today?”

“Nah, he knows, but I didn’t wake him when I heard you getting ready upstairs. He trained hard yesterday and needed the sleep. Kaden’s pissed he had to ride the bus by himself and I wasn’t there to act as shield with that freshman puppy dogging him.”

Kaden’s a year older than me, but he was held back in first grade. Because of that, we’re both seniors at Eastwick High. It’s hard on Kaden with the whole world knowing he’s in the same grade as his younger sister. At least I know it is. Back at a time when we were close, he confided in me. Repeating a grade, it’s why he fights hard in the gym, why he’s quiet in public.

“There’s still some time left before class,” I say. “Why don’t you go pester him?”

“Because I’m pestering you.” Another crunch of the apple.

Why didn’t I play an instrument in band? There’s an entire scholarship section devoted to that. “I’m not changing my story.”

“Don’t expect you to, but if I’m right—which, come on, it’s me and I’m not wrong—I expect the truth to reveal itself. Today. At school.”

My head jerks in his direction. Jax watches me with thoughtful green eyes. He reminds me of an owl when he does this and it makes me feel like a mouse, which isn’t a good thing. Jax’s family does kill things for sport.

“I’ve been living in this neighborhood a lot longer than you have,” he adds. “That drug addict little brother of your ex-boyfriend jumped you Friday night and you’re covering for him, aren’t you?”

“No.” Yes.

Jax leans into me, his playful demeanor evaporating. “I thought you were over Matt.”

“I am.” The most truthful thing I’ve said to Jax in six months. What happened between Matt and me was unspeakable.

“Then why are you covering for his brother?”

Because they don’t play fair.
The words tumble in my head, crashing into one another. Even when I was dating Matt, his younger brother carried a knife. It’s been six months. I cringe to think what Conner has graduated to. Jax and Kaden hate Matt and Conner. They’ve been enemies since I can remember.

“I kicked Conner’s ass at the last tournament, Hays, but you wouldn’t know because you weren’t there. I can take care of myself, Kaden can take care of himself and our job is to take care of you. If Conner thinks you’re weak prey, he’ll come after you again. You aren’t living in the middle class anymore. This is the streets and there are rules.”

And I’m the one who got jumped. “You don’t think I know that?”

“Is there a problem here?” I flinch when I notice our school’s in-house social worker, Mrs. Collins, standing next to me and Jax. She’s all blond and thin and middle-aged hip and, except for this moment, typically has a smile on her face. My grandfather attended the parent–teacher conference in lieu of my parents last month and he talked to her for way too long about his gym.

“Haley and I are arguing,” says Jax.

My stomach twists like a dishrag.
Shut up, moron.

“Can I help?” she asks in a cheerful voice. “Maybe mediate?”

“No,” I answer while Jax says, “Yes.”

I whip my head to him and slam my hands against the carpet. “Really?”

“Why not?” He crunches into the apple again. “If anyone needs therapy, it’s our family.” He winks at me, then redirects himself at Mrs. Collins. “I’m yanking your stones. My goal in life is to get a rise out of Haley and I did.”

Jax offers me his hand, I accept, and he pulls us both off the ground. He swoops up my backpack and some of the applications that had fallen out of the files, then kicks the cabinet closed. He waves the apple in the air. “Garbage can?”

With her head propped to the side as if she’s watching a fascinating reality TV show, she points to the small can next to her feet. “Tell your grandfather I’m still working on that volunteer.”

“No problem.” Jax trashes the apple and drags me along as he brushes past her. “Later.”

Like I’m a seven-year-old, I wave and smile at her before I trip out into the main hallway. Jax and I become engulfed in the mob of people heading toward first period. Jax thrusts my backpack and the loose applications at me. Great, now I’m going to have to get these back.

“What was that?” I demand. “Do you want to get a social worker involved? Like we don’t have enough problems already?”

Jax steps in front of me, causing me to whiplash forward as I halt.

“Get out of the way!” some guy shouts as he walks past us.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” yells Jax. When he’s done staring the guy down, Jax towers over me. “Tell me what happened on Friday.”

“Nothing happened. I fell. The medication rolled out. End of story.”

“Who the hell are you anymore? I mean, there are times I see you. You. Like a few minutes ago in the office. The girl I grew up with. The girl who talked trash. The girl who fought with and for her family. Then you got wrapped up with Matt...”

Reining in his temper, Jax inhales deeply and looks away. “I thought when you broke up with him... Why are you guarding his back? I miss you, Haley. And if you ever see the girl I liked, tell her that for me. Tell her that her family misses her.”

He leaves me there....standing alone in a busy hallway. The scholarship applications crackle in my hand. How do I tell him I’ve been protecting him from Matt and Conner? How do I tell him I’ve been fighting for him this entire time?

West

From across the counter, the secretary slides my schedule to me. “You’ll love it here.”

I nod, then meet her eyes. What would she do if I told her that for the past two nights I’ve parked my car in a remote spot at a local park and slept there, then showered at a truck stop?

Pride kept me from asking anyone for a place to crash. Not my brothers, not my friends, not anyone. They’d give me a place, but I can’t stomach the look of disappointment.

After word spread I was officially expelled from school, I was avalanched in texts and the idea of adding to the sympathy induced dry heaves. I’m West Young, and regardless of the fact that I’ve been disowned from the family and the fortune associated with it, I don’t accept charity...or pity.

The secretary tilts her head. “Are you okay?”

No. I’m not. It’s been cold for the past two nights and I’ve had to run the car every hour to ease the chill. The exhaustion sucks, but it’s the silence that kills me. “I’m good.”

Without waiting to see if she buys my response, I exit the office. I don’t care if I’m going the right way to first period. School...class...normalcy feels unnecessary, a bit insane.

I came to my new school hoping my parents would be here. Saturday I went home, packed some shit, then left, and I’ve stayed gone. Somewhere around three last night, I had the delusion Mom would be worried and Dad would be sorry. That the reason my cell wasn’t burning with texts and calls was because it died Saturday night and I forgot my charger at home. The image looped over and over in my mind that I’d strut into school and they’d be waiting for me—begging me to return home.

If my brothers did call or text, maybe I would have reached out to them by now, but they didn’t. Dad not contacting me is no shock, but for Mom to be AWOL? My gut cramps and I rub the back of my neck as I stalk down the hallway. Guess Dad was right—when it comes to my family, I don’t belong.

The sight of long sandy-brown hair causes me to pause. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I’m seeing one. With wide eyes and a facial expression that mirrors the one she wore when I almost hit her with the Escalade, Haley stands in the middle of the hallway. A backpack slung over her shoulder; a piece of paper clutched in her hand. People give her a wide berth as they walk past, like she’s an island in the middle of rapids.

I’m not shy. Never have been. People, parties, crowds: that’s my thing. But being near Haley again... I found my kryptonite.

Her jeans perfectly fit her hips, a blue cotton shirt molds nicely around her ample curves and she has the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. A guy could get lost in those eyes.

She blinks several times, folds the paper in her hand and turns—heading in the opposite direction of me. Shaking myself back to life, I duck and weave through the crowd in pursuit.

“Haley!”

Right as she walks into the stairwell, she glances over her shoulder with her eyebrows scrunched together.
That’s right. I’m calling you.
“Haley!”

Our eyes meet and her hand automatically covers her heart. I cut through two girls in order to reach her. One of them yells at me, but I ignore her.

“West?” Haley remembers my name. That’s a bonus.

“Why is it every time I see you, you’re running?”

Her lips move a centimeter. “I wasn’t running.” She hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I was heading to class.”

I don’t want halfway. I crave a full smile from this girl. “You gotta admit, it was a sweet line.”

Christ, she has an amazing smile. With her eyes shining like that, she could be her own personal fireworks show. “The line sucked. I’m more fond of guys who give me flowers.”

Noted and filed away for future use. “It got your attention.”

“My attention?” Her head tilts as if she remembered something awful—odds are she’s replaying Friday night.

An electrical current slams through me when Haley grabs my arm and drags me into the corner of the stairwell next to the fire extinguisher. Her fingers are cool against my now burning skin.

She lowers her voice. “You’ve had my attention for the past three days. The last time I saw you, you were bleeding on the street with a drug dealer offering to babysit. Do you know how many times I searched the newspaper to see if there was an article about you being dead?”

My shoulders roll back. “Drug dealer?”

Haley releases my wrist and steps back. “Yeah. Abby. Everyone knows she sells drugs. I mean, she’s your friend, right? Please tell me I left you with a friend. Oh, my God, she’s not your friend, is she? Crap. Oh, crap. Are you okay?”

Her eyes dart around, searching for signs of abuse. She’ll find them—the remnants of the two fistfights from Friday. What she doesn’t see is the internal bleeding from my argument with Dad. Haley stretches her hand to touch the yellowish bruise fading on my jaw, then hesitates.

I inhale and revel in Haley’s scent: wildflowers in bloom. The sights and sounds of the world dissipate—well, everything except those gorgeous dark eyes.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Haley drops her hand and I turn my head to breathe in anything that’s not her.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Are
you
okay? Did those guys hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” She sounds uncertain, so I cross my arms over my chest.

“I’m fine,” she answers again. “Honestly. What are you doing here?”

I ignore her. “What happened after I blacked out? Why did they leave my car?”

“Not important. Tell me, why are you here? To see Abby? For me? This school has a zero tolerance policy on outsiders. If they find you, they’ll call the police.”

“I go to school here now.” From my back pocket, I pull the schedule I picked up a few minutes ago from the office.

“West...” Haley’s level stare has all the makings of a firing squad. “What do you mean ‘now’?”

“I got expelled from my last school.”

“For what?”

“Fighting.” For the first time in my life, guilt heats the back of my neck. Man, she’s got to have a fantastic image of who I am. The problem? She’d be right and the fact that I care is weird.

She tosses her hands in the air. “Of course. Why not? I’m a magnet for you stinking people. Why wouldn’t I be surrounded by more?” Her head falls back and she focuses on the ceiling. “Hey, God? It’s me, Haley. Not funny.”

“What?”

“Okay. All right. This can be managed. It can. I can manage this. This is entirely under my control. I can own this situation.”

“I don’t need to be managed.”

Haley tosses me an are-you-for-real gaze and her hair tumbles over her shoulder. It’s shiny and I bet if I ran my fingers through it, the strands would feel like silk. I like hair like that. I like kissing girls who have hair like that. My eyes flash to her lips and the memory of her stepping into me on Friday night sizzles in my mind: the walking, talking inferno. Kissing Haley would be a thrill-ride experience.

“West?” Haley motions near her eyes. “Attention here, please?”

“I wasn’t checking out your curves.” Though now that it’s mentioned...

“Go there and I swear to God you’ll have to check ‘other’ when asked if you’re male or female.”

I chuckle and rest my palm against the cool cinder block wall, crowding her. Haley shifts and practically shrinks into the corner. She’s shorter than me, but not by much. I’d say she was afraid, but the way she studies my biceps tells me differently.

“Haley?” She refocuses on my face. “Eyes up here please.”

Gaped. Open. Mouth. “Okay, look. Me and you. We’ve got problems.”

I agree. She wants to kiss me. I want her body underneath mine. Nothing a dark room and a bed couldn’t solve. “What are you doing after school?”

“What? No. Don’t tell me. I don’t care. Back to problems. Those guys that jumped us on Friday?”

My hand slips off the wall and I straighten. “Yeah?”

“They go to school here and I’m not exactly their best friend.”

My muscles tighten and I have to work to keep the smirk off my face. Payback is going to be sweet with those bastards. “Do you know where they’re at?”

“Stay away from them. They’re dangerous.”

I don’t give a shit if they play poker with the devil. They took me down. That doesn’t happen, and I won’t let that be the final say—especially since I’ll be spending the next four months in this hellhole.

Haley clutches my arm as if I were about to waltz into a minefield. “No!”

I lean into her—our heads less than an inch apart. The crazy ass bastard’s words echo in my head:
I know where to find Haley.
“Have they threatened you?”

Her fingernails attempt to dig canyons into my arm. “There are things in my life you can’t understand, okay? I know you meant well on Friday, but to be honest, you screwed everything up, so I’m begging you to listen to me now. Stay away from them, stay away from me and, for the love of God, don’t mention Friday to anyone.”

The warning bell rings. Haley releases me and runs up the stairs. What the hell?