He convinced me to watch a movie with him. I must have looked really dreadful, because he
let me pick the movie.
Even if Rocco spent most of the time under the influence of his rainbow medication and sleeping
with his head bent back and his mouth wide open, here, huddled head-to-toe on the couch in
Cameron’s room with Rocco’s big feet stuck behind my back, it was easy to feel safe. Though
the pain in my heart was still very much throbbing, the feelings of helplessness, of isolation
dissipated with every drop of Rocco’s drool that hit the throw pillow. He had no idea of the
turmoil that bubbled inside me, and I was thankful for this. His obliviousness, at least, would
remain unspoiled. I imagined that I would have liked to have a little brother like Rocco, even
if he was bigger than me and a total slob.
When my mind had quieted and I could think without interruptions from me, I pushed myself to
concentrate on making sense of it all. Cameron wasn’t just a drug dealer or a crime boss; he
was the big boss and led most, if not all, crime bosses in the United States. And there was no
doubt in my mind that I loved him, no matter who or what he was, no matter what he said. This
made it all the more painful. Last, I was still alive, because Cameron wanted it this way,
because he was bored, because he was looking for fun. Whether Griff was still alive … I had my
doubts, though I couldn’t be sure … theories were too terrifying, too crippling.
How did I get myself in this situation?
I remembered the person I had been back in Callister. Cautious. Removed. Invisible. Parts of an
armor that had taken me years to erect; parts of an armor that had too quickly fallen away the
day I had met Cameron … there was no point in trying to find an answer to the question—the
damage was already done.
This led me to my next question—could I do anything about it? Could I fight back? Cameron hadn
’t let his guard down—everything he did was with purpose. Earlier that day, I had
halfheartedly accused him of being like my parents. This comparison had been more accurate than
I thought it had been, even if Cameron, like Carly, seemed to have some preconceived notion that
his world was so different from mine. But our worlds were not so different. Yes, I could fight
back … after years of practice with my parents, I knew how to deal with their kind.
I didn’t know if it was Rocco’s allied presence, or the headache that had slowly grown into a
massive migraine, or just the fact that I hadn’t eaten all day, but my grief had turned to
anger, and I was getting angrier as the hours rolled by. By the time the sun set and the sound
of the board of directors’ car stereos dissipated into the distance, the steam was practically
coming out of my ears. I spent the next minutes anxiously listening, half-hoping that Cameron
would show his face, half-hoping that I would wake up and find that all of this had been a dream
—some of it really good, some of it nightmarish.
One of my desires was realized when I heard the front door slam shut and stomps hastening up the
stairs. My heart and head pounded riotously. I immediately got up, marched to the bed, and
rigidly sat. I faced the door and geared up for combat. Cameron thrust the door open and entered
the battlefield. His eyes were fierce and wild, like a caged animal set loose—his war face
looked much more daunting than mine.
I shrank back, realizing that my plan for an ambush had been crushed.
I attempted to regroup while Cameron furiously looked at me then glanced around the room. He
spied Rocco, who was sleeping on the couch. “Rocco, get out,” he ordered madly.
Rocco didn’t move.
“Rocco!” Cameron shouted like I had never heard him shout before.
Rocco’s torso snapped up instinctively. “What?” he yelled back with annoyance.
“Get up and get out,” Cameron repeated, regaining his calm voice. He was glaring at me,
breathing through his nostrils.
“Why? What’s going on?” Rocco looked at me questioningly. My heart was thumping through my
ears, making the headache a thousand times worse. I wanted to tell him that I was okay, that he
could leave without worry, but that would have been a colossal lie.
“Now!” Cameron ordered again. For the second time within the span of a few seconds, he had
lost his composure. I knew that this wasn’t good, and wondered what excuse the path guard had
made for his own lack of attention when he squealed on me.
“Geez! Okay! I’m leaving,” Rocco said. “You don’t have to yell. I’m getting really sick of
no one telling me what the hell is going on around here.”
He hobbled out, and Cameron closed the door so quickly that he almost knocked Rocco over.
Cameron then spun around and raced toward me. I flinched like a coward as he grabbed my arm—I
had prepared for a battle … but not the bloodshed that came with it. There was never any
physical warfare when I fought with my parents, just a lot of yelling and crying.
Cameron lifted the sleeve of my T-shirt with such force that I thought it would rip.