Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Her smile falls, and I climb on the bike, starting the engine. Arlet can catch a ride with Coral.
“Hunter…” she says.
But I act like I can’t hear her as I rev the engine and pull on my helmet.
Finally, she turns and rejoins the Rebels, and I spot Aro Marquez approaching the fence. She’s dressed in a pair of Shelburne Falls shorts and T-shirt, the rest of her P.E. class drifting back to the building.
“So, if you took those handcuffs from Dylan’s room, then you must have the key, right?” she asks me. “I should’ve figured that out a long time ago.” She smiles. “It was you on Grudge Night. In the mask.”
I push off the kickstand.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, clutching the fence. “Lock them up together?”
“Just a prank.”
She looks off toward Dylan, musing. “I think Dylan enjoyed it. She kept the cuffs, after all.”
I think they both enjoyed it. Kade’s words from the night before haunt me. Thanks for those handcuffs, by the way…
“I know something about self-sabotage,” Aro says. “You’re sure it’s coming anyway, so you just want to get the pain over with. Then you don’t have to lose.”
I tighten the strap, my jaw clenching.
“Then you don’t have to fail,” she goes on, her eyes boring into me. “You don’t have to contend with not getting what you want, and you finally have a reason for the anger you feel. It’s easier to believe the lie that things happened exactly as you intended all along.”
I wasn’t trying to push Dylan and Kade together. It wasn’t self-sabotage.
“It was just a prank,” I say again and then tease, “maybe I’ll throw them on you and Hawke next.”
“You’ll have to do better than that.” She laughs. “I’ve known how to pick locks since I was nine.”
Interesting. I’m sure there’s a story there, but it’ll have to wait.
I start to go but then stop, something occurring to me.
“So, you got Dylan out of those cuffs?”
She wasn’t trapped all night, then?
“I was a little distracted, but yeah…” Aro nods. “She was free within an hour.”
Right.
“And she still crashed with Kade that night.” I point out. “You see, it wasn’t self-sabotage. It was as it should be. She was always going to be right where she wanted to be.”
I give the bike some gas.
“Dylan slept in your room that night,” Aro tells me.
I stop. I turn my head. “What?”
Aro drops her hands from the fence, backing away. “She always sleeps in your bed when a party or family gathering runs late. In the time I’ve known her anyway,” she adds. “She thinks you might sneak in to get something and she can see you.”
She leaves, following her class back into the building, and I sit there, the bike rumbling underneath me.
He lied to me.
Well, not exactly. He said to ask her if she slept in her own bed that night, to which he was right. She didn’t.
He’s still playing with me, and still so good at it.
But more importantly… I lift my gaze, watching Dylan discreetly slip some folded-up bills into Codi’s hoodie pocket as she stands right next to her and doesn’t notice. She sleeps in my room. Not his.
Dylan
I skid around the Loop, taking the last left before blowing through the finish line. I grip the steering wheel, shifting back into fourth, then fifth, and feeling the car quake underneath me as my tail fans out with the next turn.
I haven’t raced the Loop in a car in over a year. I think it was the last time my dad helped me with anything. He would love it if I raced cars. It’s a little safer, especially when my name is traditionally male, and no one can see me inside. Many assume I’ll be a guy until I climb out and take off my helmet. Maybe I’d invite less scrutiny and less aggression on the track, hidden that way. And hey, I can still ride motorcycles as a—insert air quotes—hobby.
And then there’s Hunter and whatever bullshit he’s on again.
I’m going to turn off the volume tonight. I’m turning it all off—everyone else’s voices—and enjoying my birthday.
The track is still empty—the Pirates just getting out of school—and I race around the last bend, waving at the guys in the tower who work here every day, getting ready for the evening races. I should get out of here before anyone shows up.
I drop the Mustang—one of many my dad has—back in the rear parking lot of his shop and climb on the new bike Farrow gave me. It’s not new, but it’s new to me, and I’m to understand that if I put this one in the river too, he’ll put me there with it.
Running back home, I spot my dad’s car in front of the curb and make a short right, into Monika Swenson’s carport two houses down. She’s a nurse at the hospital where Mom works. Hopefully she’ll be there for a little while longer.