“Tough shit. You brought her.” Spit flew from Carlos’ mouth as he yelled. “You’re responsible for her. Take. Her. Home. Now. And don’t you dare think about making her walk. If she changes tonight out in the open, it’d be on your head.” He strode back into the house, the other boys close on his heels.
“Hey! I’m right here!” The sound of the door slamming shut made my stomach knot. That was the sound of my social status at Cedar Ridge High going from cool to freak in no time flat.
“Let’s go.” She stormed off toward the cars.
I broke the uncomfortable silence as we got into her car. “I don’t understand. Why is it such a big deal?”
“You don’t understand.” She rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you told to stay away from St. Ailbe’s guys?”
Mr. Dawson did say that. “But Dastien is totally normal.”
Her laugh was harsh. “No. No, he’s not.”
I shivered. I was missing something, something huge. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She pulled over at my house. “Get out,” she said without even looking at me.
“Fine. Thanks for a great time. Really cool, Rosalyn.” I hopped out and slammed the door.
Chapter Nine
The TV was on in my parent’s room when I walked in the house. I slowly closed the door behind me.
“You’re back already?”
I jumped at the sound of Axel’s voice behind me.
“What the fu—”
I slapped my hand over his mouth. “I don’t want Mom and Dad to know.” I paused. “Seriously.”
He nodded, and I moved my hand slowly away from his mouth, ready to slap it back if he started yelling again.
“Who did that to you?”
Axel was in protector mode. He reverted to it whenever I was hurt or being picked on. I prayed for patience. “Can you please find wherever Mom put the first aid stuff and meet me in my room?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. Yup. There was no way he’d let this one go, but he went in search of the kit anyway.
My shoulder was full on throbbing by the time I got upstairs. This night had been a disaster of epic proportions. If I could get into my room without Mom or Dad checking on me, I’d be happy. I couldn’t face telling them that come Monday, life would go back to status quo in Tessaland.
I crept up the stairs, desperately trying to remember if there were any squeaky boards.
“I’m home,” I said from my bedroom door.
The TV muted. “You’re early. How was the party?” Mom’s voice came from their room.
“Fine, but I’m pooped. Can we talk about it in the morning?” I held my breath as I waited for her to answer.
There was whispering back and forth as they debated. “Okay. Get some rest,” Mom said finally.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the TV’s sound came back on. I threw my belt and shoes in the closet. In the light I could see the blood staining my gloves. I chucked them in my trash.
What was I going to do now? I couldn’t lift my arm up to take off my dress.
Oh well. It was a nice dress while it lasted. I grabbed a pair of scissors from my desk. There was a soft knock on the door. I had a moment of panic before Axel opened it.
“Get in here, and help me,” I said.
He closed the door and dumped the first aid stuff on my bed. I handed him the scissors. “You’re going to have to cut the dress off me.”
I could feel his breath on my back. He was investigating my cut without touching it himself.
He sighed. “This looks really bad, Tess. You need stitches.”
“Don’t say stitches. That involves needles and I don’t do needles.” The thought of them made me queasy. “It doesn’t even really hurt. A few butterfly bandages will do. Just cut the strap and move the material away from it. Then pour a bunch of peroxide on it until it stops fizzing.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll do it. But Mom’s going to find out in the morning and she’s going to say you need—”
“Don’t you dare say the ‘s’ word again. I really don’t need them. I’ve had cuts worse than this.”
“No. You haven’t,” he muttered. The scissors sliced through my strap. “Stay still. This is probably gonna burn like a motherfucker.”
He poured it down my shoulder, and tears filled my eyes. “Shit. Blow on it or something.”
“Seriously? I don’t want to get that close to it. It’s bubbling up like crazy.”
“I don’t care what you do. Just do something!” I dug my fingernails into my hands to take my mind off of it.
“Okay. Okay. Hang on.” He grabbed a book off my shelf and started fanning it.
It totally wasn’t helping. “The peroxide was a bad idea.”
“You know what a good idea is? The emergency room. In fact, it’s a fantastic idea.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’ll take hours. No way. I already said it twice, but I’ll say it again. I don’t need stitches. You can’t make me get them.”
“Fine. But you’re just being a stubborn baby.” He poured more peroxide on it.
“Fuck! That burns,” I said when I could get air enough to talk again.
“See. You’re such a baby.” Axel started digging through the clear plastic bin that had all the first aid supplies in it. He came back with a tube of antibiotic ointment.