She waves me off. “Okay, updated goal: everyone picks one box. We’ll keep going like that until we’ve finished.”
A fond smile at her newfound resolve crosses my face. She probably found some Pinterest article on organization tips. Mom’s always trying stuff like that. Big fan of the Marie Kondo method. Except when it comes to the miscellaneous moving boxes.
“You’ve got it, Mom.”
“Fresh coffee downstairs in ten?”
“It’s a date.”
I was too chickenshit to tell her the whole truth about that night two years ago. Part of me wanted to confess it all, but then I put it off for so long in fear that she’d be mad at me for putting myself in that situation. All I told them was that a boy tried to touch me, glossing over who it was and the extent of it other than firmly stating I wasn’t raped.
It wasn’t the reason we moved. I told them I wasn’t happy at school, so they fixed it. I no longer had to see him in the halls. They’re great about helping and supporting me when I go to them. Then I struggled at the school I transferred to. I broke down when I couldn’t take it anymore and begged for another change.
So my parents found work elsewhere and sprung this move on us.
The smell of caffeine greets me downstairs. I cling to the mug Mom hands me and hum.
“Did Alec say how his night was? What about you, did you meet any new friends?”
I choke on the scalding sip of coffee. My stupid lizard brain flashes to that bastard Saint and his grabby hands. New friends.
“Uh, he had a good time. Yep.”
I gulp more coffee and skip over the party. And the kiss playing on loop in my head. Definitely not bringing any of that up. Despite her question about making friends, Mom and I don’t chat boys.
Dad and Alec enter the kitchen like zombies. Mom waves them to the coffee.
“Morning, Dad.”
He mumbles to me, incoherent until he’s halfway through his first mug of the day. He slumps at the table, half-dozing. Alec fares the same, but I think he’s hungover. He’s not hiding it that well. I keep an eye on Mom and Dad’s reactions to him.
Mom narrows her eyes, but she’ll wait for him to say something about it. As we’ve gotten older, they like us to take responsibility for choices like that. Dad’s favorite new saying from the last couple of years since we first got caught drinking is: if you’re going to pretend to be an adult you’ll face the consequences like one.
Once Dad comes to life via caffeine, he perks up. “How was the first week of school? Adjusting okay?”
They always say we can talk to them about anything. But I can handle it on my own. I can’t run scared just because of some jerk's threat.
“Sure. It’s fine. Books. Knowledge. The works.”
Alec burns a hole in the back of my head as he fixes his drink. The clink of his spoon stirring sugar into his coffee jars me.
“That’s good. You tell us if anything bothers you. That goes for both of you.” Dad refills his mug and blows on it. As he passes me, he pats my head. “There’re plenty of trails around this area. Who’s in for a hike today?”
Alec moans under his breath.
“As long as we get some boxes done,” Mom says.
“I’m in, Dad!” Alec winces at my bright tone on his way to a seat. “I’ve been enjoying the new scenery to explore for photo ops.”
“You should come, Alec,” Dad intones. “Fresh mountain air is an excellent cure for the results of a rowdy night out. It’s bracing. It’ll do you good.”
I hide my cough of amusement in my mug.
Lucas Saint is still on my mind on Monday and I’m fucking pissed about it.
I hate that I can’t get that damn kiss out of my head. It’s plagued my mind all weekend.
My hands squeeze the steering wheel. Frowning, I turn up the rock song on the radio and nod along as a pitiful distraction.
So what if it was a good kiss? I’m sure lots of people at Silver Lake High are good kissers—if I was interested in finding out. Which I’m not.
My lips purse because what’s really goading my ire is that Lucas just takes without asking. He’s every inch the spoiled king quarterback of this school.
“Whoa there, daredevil,” Alec chides, gripping the handle above the door as I whip the car into the parking lot.
My nostrils flare. Okay, maybe I took that turn sharper than necessary. I need to get my emotions and thoughts in check.
“Deal with it, you big baby. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Alec chuckles at my huffiness and taps the back of his hand against my shoulder. For a moment it’s like things used to be, before my own twin brother hated my guts for something I couldn’t control.
The moment passes and Alec’s easy going demeanor fades. He clears his throat.
I swallow a disappointed sigh and pull into the first open spot I find between a flashy red sports car and a sleek black Range Rover. With a quick scan of the cars around us, my stomach falls.
Our CR-V is a used model, but not a junker by any stretch. Most of the cars in the lot are souped up and expensive. The price tags are double and even triple the worth of our shared car.
Where are all the normal kids at this school who don’t flaunt their parents’ money?
Alec and I can’t be the only ones.
The school looms on a hill above the student parking lot with stone columns to match the mountainside vibe of Ridgeview. The campus buildings are surrounded by pine trees that stretch into the sky. Coyote statues flank the sign in front of the school declaring it Silver Lake High School: Home of the Ridgeview Coyotes.
Before getting out, I tug at my evergreen and white plaid uniform skirt and adjust the blazer.
At my other two schools we didn’t have a required uniform, and I was free to wear what I was comfortable in. I thumb the school crest embroidered on the black blazer, a gold shield with the school’s initials surrounded by laurels.
I’m grumpy that my brother doesn’t seem as bothered by the uniform. Then again, what’s so different about putting on nicer pants than jeans? At least they’re still pants. The worst he has to deal with is a tie.
We climb out of the car simultaneously with the guy in the neighboring Range Rover and I tense. It’s Lucas.
He spots me before I can hightail it for the steps that lead up to the school. That irritating cocky grin returns.
“Hey, man.” Alec greets as he and Lucas clasp hands, thumping each other on the back. “Dope party on Friday.”
“Yeah.” Lucas cuts his eyes to me over my brother’s shoulder. “Wish you could’ve stuck around longer. We lit off fireworks over the lake.”
“Sweet.”
Behind us, another guy leans against the red sports car and crosses his legs at the ankle. His dark hair swoops into his eyes and his school tie is loose, hanging askew.
He lights up a cigarette despite the security guard in the booth right across from us. Curls of smoke snake out of his nostrils as he stares us down, slouched against his ride.
“Taking red out today, Dev?” Lucas asks.
The corner of the guy’s mouth curls up and he shrugs. He runs his palm across the gleaming paint like a caress. “She was feeling neglected.”
“The car?” I ask before I remember my vow not to interact with anyone.