“That’s his choice.”
“It’s about Dillon,” she said.
“You still trying to pass on messages from his brother?” I leaned in closer, getting in her face, because why not? “Has it occurred to you that you might be getting used?”
“It’s not that.” She shuffled her feet, fussing with the strap of her bag. You’d have thought we were doing a deal on some dark street corner with the way the girl was acting.
“Then what?” I asked. “What do you want, Erika?”
“I went over to Dillon’s last night and . . . he’s not doing well.” Her gaze roamed to the people watching and she frowned. “He was saying all sorts of crazy shit.”
“What sort of crazy shit?”
“Just . . . tell John to be careful.”
“What did he say?”
Turning her back on me, she got moving. “Just tell him.”
Huh. This, whatever it was, did not feel good. Dillon had managed to scare Erika into sounding like a genuinely concerned human being, instead of a haughty bitch. That was actually kind of frightening.
John had picked me up that morning so we could grab a mom-approved quick breakfast together on our way to school. After the weird chat with Erika, I found him waiting out by the beast, Anders busy spinning a basketball on his finger while Hang watched with an indulgent smile. Nothing going on between them, my ass. They were about as believable as John and I.
“Just had an interesting conversation,” I said, leaning my body against his and waiting for my welcome kiss.
He delivered it with a smile. “What?”
“Erika says to be careful of your brother.”
His gaze narrowed, lips flattening. “Really?”
“Really.” I wandered around to the passenger side and dumped my bag in the car.
“Bestie rides shotgun,” pouted Anders. “Everyone knows that.”
“Apparently she went over to your old place and he was saying some scary shit. She wouldn’t say what. Have you seen him since the fight?” I asked, ignoring the idiot in our midst. Some things were more important. “John?”
He slipped on his sunglasses, looking across the roof of the car at me with a blank face. “He stopped by the other week. Uncle Levi told him he’d sic the cops on him if he saw him near the house again. Nothing since then.”
“Ah.”
With one finger, he scratched at the side of his nose. “I mean, he’s tried calling me a couple of times. But I don’t usually answer.”
“Usually?” I asked, voice tightening. “He beat you up, John.”
“He’s my brother and we beat each other up. Trust me, he didn’t come out of it looking too good either.”
I don’t think I was wearing my happy face.
“You’re an only child, Edie. You don’t know what it’s like,” he said. “I can’t just turn my back on him.”
Brows tight, I fished my own sunglasses out of my bag. The afternoon light was shining blindingly bright. “So he still wants you to deal?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Anders’s head swung between us, the basketball still in his hands. “Hang. Boo. Give me a lift home?”
“Sure.”
“Talk to you later, loser.” He slapped John on the back, then picked up his bag.
“Saturday night?” Hang asked me.
“I don’t know. Old Cemetery Road okay with you?”
“You sure?”
“Mom shifted my curfew a little. But I don’t mind only catching the start of the party. It’ll give John a chance to do some boarding.”
“Okay.” With a nod, she began unlocking her own car, parked next to the beast. “See you at work tomorrow.”
“See you.”
“Let’s go to your place,” said Anders to Hang. “Ask your mom if I can stay for dinner. The food at yours is way better than mine.”
“My mom hates you.”
“No she doesn’t,” Anders said, voice incredulous. “She’s just shy.”
Hang laughed, slamming her car door shut.
And then we were alone. Or as alone as you can get in a crowded school parking lot. John climbed in and I did likewise, the air hot and stale. Old cracked leather seating warmed the backs of my legs. In a month or two I’d have to get out my tights for winter. Not that Northern California ever got freezing cold, but dresses alone didn’t do the job all year round.
“He hurt you,” I said.
John revved the engine, setting a hand atop my headrest and turning to check no one was behind us before reversing out. “I know.”
We got into the line of cars pouring from the parking lot and into the street. Smiles and laughter carried through the open windows, everyone in a good mood for Friday afternoon. Almost everyone. Memories of the blood and bruises on John’s face and body that night kind of made me want to puke.
“Be careful,” I said, repeating Erika’s warning.
“I will be.”
Saturday night, I watched transfixed as John rode his skateboard, doing all sorts of cool moves. Bare chested, which upped the heat content tenfold. I held onto his shirt for him, sniffing it maybe once or twice at most. Certainly no more than say half a dozen times because I wasn’t some creepy stalker. Though it should be noted, I wasn’t the only one watching, looking at least half in love with the boy. No, I was just the one with no shame when it came to smelling his clothes.
Oh, well. Honestly, I don’t think I’d really come down since the first time we kissed.
“Hey.” Hang sidled on up to me with a bottle of water in her hands. Despite our drunken antics at her house the night of the bad texting incident, Hang didn’t seem to drink very often. “I think Anders has taken up interpretive dancing.”
“Your boyfriend scares me,” said Carrie, standing on my other side. “I left Sophia to try and keep up with his dancing acrobatics. I’m done.”
Hang laughed. Not correcting her about the boyfriend comment, either. “I have no idea where he gets all of the energy.”
“How’s he doing with your mom?”
She grimaced. “Well, he’s certainly committed. But I don’t see her accepting him anytime soon.”
“Hmm. Your mom is fierce, but my money’s on Anders.”
“Mine too.”
“For certain. The boy doesn’t even know how to give up.” Carrie chuckled. “It’s like the concept doesn’t exist in his world.”
Hang just grinned. It was good to see her so happy.
Around us, the field was slowly filling with people, the area lit courtesy of the headlights of half a dozen trucks and SUVs. I sipped on my beer while Carrie took sips from a flask. It was just half past eight or so. Early for a Saturday night. But my curfew had only been extended to ten thirty, and John and I had plans that required privacy and the comfort of his bed. Oh, and his Uncle Levi was out until late.
That was critical.
Whatever his uncle’s views were on teen sex, the thought of doing anything with someone else in the house was a big no.
John jumped off his board at the top of the half-pipe, landing easy on the flat concrete surface. The boy had to be part acrobat or something. Meanwhile, I could barely touch my toes without falling over. One of the fangirls approached him and he smiled, nodded, and turned away. Then he flipped the board up to his hand with a foot and walked over to us. Another girl stepped up to the edge of the pipe, her board beneath one sneaker. Whoosh, she was off.
Maybe one day I should take up a sport besides shopping. Maybe.
“Hey,” he said, a line of sweat trickling down the side of his face. I passed him the cup of beer and he gulped some. “Thanks.”
“Ever think about going professional with your skateboarding?” I asked, curious.
With a broad smile, he nodded to the girl currently riding. “Watch her.”
“All right.”
We all did, soon understanding why. The woman had mad skills; the jumps and stunts she did were nothing short of amazing.
“Wow!” said Hang.