“Holy . . .” T-Man walked over. “What happened, man?” His eyes took in Michael’s face.
I stopped next to Michael and stared out at the rest of the group.
Michael spun the story quickly and effortlessly. He shot a knowing grin at me, the only concession that his story wasn’t entirely true.
T-Man and Dwight cursed and started talking about vengeance. Michael shook his head slightly, and they stopped. There was a lull as their eyes shifted from Michael’s face to my clothes. Next subject of conversation. So much gossip to get through before the bell.
I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.
Cyndra lifted a side of the zip-front hoodie, smiling expectantly. “Looking good, Ice.” A compliment to her taste in clothes more than my look.
She tugged the shoulders of the hoodie off my back.
I knocked her hands away.
“Relax. It’s warm. You don’t need it.”
I shook my head.
Cyndra sighed and the corner of her mouth twisted. “What, you think I’m going to jump you or something? Get over yourself. I just want to see how the clothes fit.”
People eyeing me, wanting something. Laying hands on me. Throwing their influence like punches.
Me—taking it.
Something twisted in my gut.
Cyndra gave me a quick, secret smile. It was warm, not sexy, just real. Like the smile was saying Please?
I took off the hoodie.
“Thank you,” she mouthed. Heaven forbid anyone actually heard her say the words.
“Perfect,” she said aloud. “Perfect fit.”
Monique slid over, squinting and half-smiling. She looked like a little girl playing sexy—and not actually succeeding.
“Day-um.” Her finger ran down my arm.
I pushed her hand away.
Cyndra laughed at her. Monique acted like it hadn’t happened. She stuck out a hip and propped a hand there.
“Nice threads, Cyn. Great shirt.” She blew a kiss at me. “Flex for me, Ice.”
“Screw you.”
Cyndra smiled. “It’s okay, Ice. Stop being so prickly. No one’s going to attack you.”
When she looked at me like that, I would do whatever she asked of me.
Michael laughed and clapped my shoulder. Loving it.
I glared at him.
He backed down, let go. Grabbed Cyndra and led her and the others a few steps away.
I blew out air and sat down on the bench.
Fifty dollars. Fifty dollars. Fifty dollars.
Michael murmured into Cyndra’s ear. She frowned at him before glancing back at me. She came back and sat on the bench next to me.
I didn’t say anything and tried not to look at her.
“Don’t do that, Jason.” Her voice was soft.
My eyebrows lifted.
“Don’t be mad,” she explained.
I let a burst of air out my nose and looked away again.
“You can look so scary sometimes,” she said. Like I should immediately smile at her and try to make her feel all safe.
“What do you want, Cyndra?” I looked at her finally.
“Don’t be mad.”
“Fine.” I smiled the smile she didn’t like. “Why should I be mad?” Wanted to ask if she understood. And why she cared.
Cyndra shook her head. Red-gold hair spilled over her shoulders. Then she shifted, sitting back and lifting her ankles onto my lap. She gave me a manufactured smile.
“Okay, Ice, you’re right. You shouldn’t be mad. Certainly not at me.” She edged her feet higher. I tensed, ready to push them away, but couldn’t take my eyes off her tiny toenails, polished like perfect candy apples.
“You like me, right? So don’t be mad.”
I told myself to brush her feet off my thighs. Stand up and walk away.
The whole thing was a display. Far from intimate or real. Or anything other than power and use.
I shoved her feet off my lap.
Before I could get up, she pressed me back and straddled my thighs.
My head was on fire. My eyes narrowed as my breathing all but stopped.
It was like that moment when you see his fist coming. Scarred, bone-ridge knuckles loading on you like a freight train, and you know it’s going to connect. And you know it’s going to hurt like hell.
What’s important is how you react.
I lashed her hips to my legs with one arm and wound my other hand in her hair, pulling her ear down to my lips.
“Stop playing games.”
Cyndra gasped and pushed against me feebly. “You’re hurting me.”
I wanted to see the tears. I wanted her vision blurry from trying to blink them back. I wanted her to cry, from being pushed and pulled. Wanted her to understand.
Users and the used. Which one was she?
I let go of her hair and shoved her off my lap.
She glared at me like it was the biggest insult in the world.
I stood and grabbed my books from the bench. Tried to look like I always look.
Uninvolved. Unemotional. Distanced.
T-Man and LaShonda backed away from me. Michael forced a smile.
“Your face looks like a doormat,” I said.
The smile disappeared.
When you can’t change the news, change the news cycle. His face was going to get plenty of play. I slammed through the double doors as the bell rang.
CHAPTER TEN
At lunch it was like nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had.
Michael talked about football practice and the team they would play for next week’s game. He talked like I knew all about it already, like I cared. Cyndra held court and didn’t look at me once. T-Man and Dwight hassled Beast about some lame remark he’d made in English. Beast was laughing like their taunts were fun, but if you checked his eyes, you could see the laughter didn’t reach all the way up.
For the rest of the classes that day, I pretended to be somewhere else or slept. After school I decided to skip the punching bag. Hoisting product at the building supply store and getting honest money (well, mostly honest money) would do as much for me as pounding a canvas bag would. Plus, nobody would show up there. Besides, Clay and his mom always took her paycheck and got groceries for the week on Friday afternoons, so he wouldn’t be home for a while.
Cyndra chased me down as I crossed the athletic field.
“Hey.” She stopped short from actually grabbing my arm. She handed me a fifty. “From Michael.”