“Leigh, wait up,” he called, but I was already walking. He vaulted the porch rail and caught me halfway down the street. “Leigh, wait.”
I made it two steps before Reece grabbed my wrist and dragged me behind my neighbor’s trailer, out of sight of Kylie and her friend. I swayed a little at the touch of his fingers on my skin, my lips tingling and my head suddenly light. He stopped short, pulling me in close, steadying us both. He was drunk. I ripped my hand from his, bracing myself against the trailer while I waited for the fog in my head to clear. His face was flushed and he looked at me with glassy eyes. “I can explain.”
“You don’t need to explain. I know who you are.”
“Do you? Because that would make one of us.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, as if trying to sober himself.
I stepped back. He was entirely too close. No good could come of this conversation. “I’m tired, Reece. I just came from two funerals. All I want is to go home.”
“Is it so unbelievable that I want the same?” He threw an arm toward Lonny’s trailer. “I have to be here. I don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice. You can choose to leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not like you! I’m like them. A year ago, I was just like Lonny. I was at the bottom of the food chain and I was hungry. I wanted the big car and the hot girls and the fat wallet and I didn’t care who got hurt. There are only two ways out of places like this—the quick way or the right way. I chose the wrong one. And now I’m stuck here. And the only way to fix what I’ve done is to keep guys like Lonny from stealing that choice from people like you.” He rubbed his eyes and cussed. They were bloodshot and weary. “Don’t you see? I have to go to his screwed-up parties. I have to drink his booze and hang out with his friends and put up with girls that don’t have half the guts or brains that you do. I have to be someone I don’t like—someone you don’t trust—to make him trust me—”
I put a hand up to stop him, still buzzing from his touch. I didn’t want to know what he was doing behind Lonny’s closed doors. It was painful to think about, and I didn’t want to overanalyze why. “I know, I know . . . so we can get Lonny’s list of ketamine buyers. I get it.”
“You don’t get anything! I can’t keep making this about you! I came to West River for one reason. To destroy Lonny. To set him up for a big fucking fall and put him behind bars for good. I can’t lose sight of what side I’m on, just because you show up on the hood of Lonny’s car and turn everything upside down.”
Reece was suddenly quiet. He swallowed hard, looking like he’d said too much. If he was so angry, why was he standing so close? If I turned everything upside down, why wasn’t he walking away?
“I don’t understand,” I said, wanting to touch him without feeling drunk. Wanting to feel the things I saw in his eyes that his lips weren’t saying. “I thought we were on the same side. I thought . . . I thought we wanted the same thing.”
We did, didn’t we? Want the same thing?
His eyes crinkled, confused. “Maybe I don’t know what I want anymore.”
He leaned in slowly, lips parting and hesitating close. His breath was warm against my face. Beer and other things that blurred the lines between us when he touched me. The way Jeremy had blurred the lines the first time he got drunk and tried to kiss me.
“I should go,” I said, pulling out of reach. He looked down at his feet as I turned to leave.
“Why’d you do it, anyway?” He wore a self-deprecating look, hands stuffed in his pockets while he kicked at the gravel.
“Do what?”
“Why waste your time saving someone who can’t be fixed?”
I folded my arms over my chest, tucking my hands under them as I backed away, wishing I could kiss him without caring how he felt. “Maybe you’re not the only one who’s broken.”
? ? ?
When I got to school on Thursday morning, my locker was buzzing. I jerked my hand from the lock and looked around. A cluster of girls from my trig class stood at the end of my locker bay. They lowered their voices when they saw me watching, slammed their lockers shut, and hurried away. People were beginning to connect the dots. Rumors were spreading about the bizarre connection between the dead students, bringing curious eyes around to me. It felt like those dreams when you’re sure that you’ve come to school naked. Only this wasn’t a dream. And no one was laughing.
I rose up on my toes and peered into the vent. A red light blinked inside. I sucked in a breath and spun my combination. Slowly, I opened the door. A cell phone rested on a folded sheet of paper.
4 New Text Messages flashed across the screen.
I reached for the folded paper and peeled it open. The handwriting was immediately familiar.
IT’S MORE PRACTICAL THAN A BASEBALL BAT. MINUTES ARE PRE-PAID.
TRY NOT TO WASTE THEM.
— RW