“Deal.” Kumiko swings her hips to the beat of a pop song the radio stations play a hundred times a day.
For the next three hours, the kids dance, talk, and text while chemistry kicks my ass. It’s almost six thirty when I finally give up. The song changes, and the second I hear the melody, my blood turns to ice.
“Titanium”—the song that was playing at the Sugar Factory right before I went outside.
The room heats up, and a wave of dizziness rolls over me.
Noah’s baby-blue polo shirt—
“Frankie? Are you okay?” Sofia asks.
“She doesn’t look so good.” Daniel.
A guy with a blurred face—
I want to tell the kids I’m okay, but I can’t get the words out.…
Noah shakes his head at me—
“She needs help.” Kumiko’s voice is the last thing I hear.
I drop to my knees and duck between two cars just as the first hit catches Noah in the jaw. His head snaps back, then falls forward. An uppercut meets Noah’s chin and slams his head back again.
Threads of blood and saliva splatter across his shirt.
My body convulses, and I cover my mouth to keep from gagging.
Another hit from the side. Noah sways and falls. His back slams against the asphalt with a sickening thud. The guy with the blurred face grabs Noah’s collar and pulls him up so he can hit him again and again and again.
Blood. Everywhere.
The pink glow from the club marquee and the stench of stale beer and copper pennies.
The bastard’s arm cocking back over and over and sounds I will never forget—the crunch of bone against bone, the back of Noah’s head cracking against the shiny black asphalt.
The guy with the blurred face stands, his hands coated with blood so dark it looks black. He wipes Noah’s blood on the front of his hoodie.
Noah isn’t moving. He’s lying on the ground, bleeding and broken, arms splayed out at his sides.
The bastard laughs and says something to Noah.
Why can’t I hear him?
I want to close my eyes—to stop seeing.
“Frankie?” Someone calls my name.
“I think she’s gonna pass out, bro.”
“Move!” Another voice.
The room tilts, and I force my eyes open.
Black splotches … white cardboard ceiling tiles. I feel myself being lifted, or maybe I’m falling.
“Hang on, Frankie.” A guy’s voice.
The sound of metal scraping against concrete, followed by a blast of cool air on my skin. I suck in a long breath, and the dizziness settles into ripples instead of waves.
I’m leaning against someone’s chest, and the familiar mix of leather and citrus clings to his skin. Marco. His heartbeat races, his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.
“I’m okay,” I mumble.
“Bullshit.” It’s definitely Marco.
“Frankie, I need you to look at me.” Miss Lorraine.
My eyelids flutter.
It’s dusk, and darkness spreads across the blue-black sky like spilled paint. Miss Lorraine and Sofia kneel next to Marco, whose arms stay clamped around me.
Miss Lorraine brushes the hair away from my face. “I’m going to call your father.”
“No.” I bolt upright, almost smacking my head into Marco’s chin. “My dad’s at work, and he’s already worried about me.”
Miss Lorraine touches Sofia’s shoulder. “Go inside, sweetheart. She’s okay.”
Sofia nods and walks toward the emergency exit. When she’s inside, Miss Lorraine presses her fingers against her temples. “You need to see a doctor. You almost passed out.”
If I don’t explain what happened, she’ll call my dad. But if I do, Marco will find out how screwed up I am.
“Please don’t call.” I rub my hands over my face.
Miss Lorraine’s expression darkens. “Did you take something? Pills or—”
“I don’t do drugs.” I’m out of options. “I have PTSD.”
Marco smooths my hair, and I realize how much he saw. He carried me outside and had a front-row seat to the Frankie Devereux Show.
“I have flashbacks from the night—” I don’t want to say this in front of him.
She rests her hand on top of mine. “I know what happened. You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.”
I never want to talk about it again unless I can identify Noah’s killer. My eyes burn, but I won’t let myself cry. “When the flashbacks hit, I get dizzy. I’ve seen tons of doctors, and they all say it’s normal.”
Normal if you’re broken and glue isn’t strong enough to hold you together.
“Are you being straight with me, Frankie?” Miss Lorraine’s eyes drill into me.
“I swear.”
“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret my decision.” When Miss Lorraine reaches the exit door, she points at me. “And I want to see you before you leave tonight.”
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I slide off Marco’s lap and sit in the dirt next to him. It’s a text from Lex.
running late. senator’s fault.
Great. Now I get to stay here and answer questions. I chuck the phone, and it lands in a patch of dirt in front of me.
Marco touches my shoulder.
I shove his hand away. “You can go inside. I don’t need a babysitter.”