14. Monroe

FOURTEEN

monroe

My chemistry textbook was open to the section about covalent bonds, my scribbled notes scattered over my bedspread. The rock music blasting through my earphones made it hard to focus, but I would rather strain through the rift of guitars and drums than my mom's theatrical moans.

Studying was the only way to keep my mind from tripping over the what-ifs, the only way to keep me from thinking about things I didn't want to acknowledge. I didn't realize the time until I got up to use the bathroom and noticed the sky outside my bedroom window was dark.

I had just settled back onto my bed with my calculus book when my phone dinged.

Jade: U around?

Guilt pressed down on me like a lead weight. I hadn't checked on her, too wrapped up in my own self-pity. God, I was a crap friend.

Me: Yeah. Are you okay?

I felt horrible about what had happened to her. And responsible. Jade was still na?ve, and I wasn't supposed to be, and yet...

Jade: I'll come get U?

Me: Sure

I shoved my books to the side and grabbed my jacket before leaving. When I passed Wolf's trailer, I found myself checking the drive for Zepp's bike, disappointed by its absence. I continued down the dirt path to the entrance of the trailer park, kicking myself for caring where Zepp was.

A lone headlight cut through the dark, followed by the chug of Jade's run-down Jeep pulling onto the shoulder. I yanked the dented passenger door open and slid onto the tattered seat. An oversized hoody—that I was pretty sure belonged to Wolf—practically swallowed Jade's tiny frame.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"No." She grabbed the stick shift, then floored the accelerator.

The wind whipped through the cracked windows, sending the smell of cigarettes and gasoline swirling around me. At the end of the road, she slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt dug into my shoulder, and everything in the backseat flew into the floorboard.

"Okay..." I wasn't good with things like this. I had no idea what had happened that night to either of us, and I was still trying to grapple with my own feelings. But I was worried about her. "Did Zepp and Hendrix tell you what happened?"

The jeep lurched forward. "I want to kill those Barrington guys."

"Pretty sure Zepp might have done that already," I mumbled.

"I went to the police."

I sighed. The cops in Dayton wouldn't do anything. Those guys were Barrington—their parents were police officers, doctors, and lawyers. And we were no one to them. "Jade..."

"And you know what they said?" She took a deep breath, then another. "They said there wouldn't be enough proof."She floored it around a turn, tires squealing. "Said they came from good families. And let's not forget, they're star football players for Barrington."

I dropped my chin to my chest. "It's just the way it is." I hated it. More than anything, I hated that I accepted that. That I encouraged my friend to accept it. I was a fighter, but this life was hard, and you had to pick your battles.

"Sometimes, you just have to take these things into your own hands." By own hands, I meant Zepp's. "I'm pretty sure Zepp and Hendrix would break a few more bones if you want. They're probably not above murder."

She shook her head, then cranked up the volume to the radio. Angry rock bled through the speakers, and we kept driving across town until we wound through the well-lit, manicured suburb of Barrington.

Jade turned down a service road that led behind Barrington High's football field. She parked by the chain-link fence surrounding the stadium, then cut the engine before she got out. She already had the tailgate of the Jeep open when I rounded the back, and two rusted canisters of gasoline sat in the grass.

"We burning this shit down?" I asked.

With teary eyes, Jade lugged the canisters in the air, dropping them on the other side of the fence with a thud before she hopped over, then marched to the fifty-yard line.

I climbed over the fence and started toward her through the darkness. She walked backward, tilting the can. The strong smell of gas caught on the breeze. A slow heat built inside my chest as I thought of Max and the other Barrington guys—of Jade and me. Of what would have happened had the "bad boys" not stopped the "good guys." A bit of burned grass wasn't going to cut it. "Got some matches?"

She tossed a match card from Velma's at me, and I shoved it into my bra, then snagged the second can and crossed the field. Jade could burn grass all she liked; I wanted something more far-reaching. There was a row of narrow windows at the back of the locker room, set low due to the sloping hill in which the building sat. I lifted the metal canister and swung it, the single pane glass smashing. I then opened the lid and tipped it through the window, shattered the next window, poured a little more.

Nothing was more satisfying than tossing that match and watching the instant whoosh of fire, the orange glow permeating the entire building in a matter of seconds.

The field was burning, and the locker room was an inferno by the time we got back to the car. Smoke billowed through the broken windows, and flames visibly licked at the door. It wasn't any sort of justice really. But if this is what Jade needed to feel just a tiny bit better about the wrongness of it all, then I would happily set some shit on fire.

The unconscious mind. A place I liked to remain as long as possible, far away from the reality of Dayton. Something pulled me back into my bedroom with threadbare curtains. My phone vibrated across the nightstand with a series of beeps, and I groaned before snatching it to stare at the screen.

Asshole: R

Asshole: O

Asshole: E

Asshole: U coming to school or what?

Of course it would be Zepp.

Me: No. Thanks for waking me up at 7am, though.

He didn't need to know that sleep had evaded me for the last two hours.

Asshole: Want me to show up at your house?

That was all I needed. Him. At my house. If my mom were sober she'd probably try to sell him a blowjob for twenty bucks. Then there was the possibility of a John showing up. Or Jerry. I didn't want him to see anything of my life because I was ashamed of it.

Me: Definitely not

I settled back onto my pillow, closing my eyes, fully expecting another text any second. My phone remained silent, and a small tremor of anxiety tore through me. What if he was already on his way here? I typed out another message.

Me: Seriously, do not come here.

Seconds seemed like minutes.

Me: Zepp!

On a groan, I tossed my phone onto the bed, then threw back the covers. Pissed. All I wanted was to be left alone for a while. To not have to deal with people. And Zeppelin Hunt, of all people, was evidently the one trying to drag me out of my wallowing.

Dayton's hallways seemed even more cramped than usual. The gossip about the fight at Max's house and Barrington's newly torched field still floated through the corridors like a bad smell, passing from one student to the next. I shouldered my way through the press of bodies, past the jealous glares of girls, and when I got to my locker, Zepp was waiting for me. One broad shoulder rested against the locker beside mine, and the look on his face said everything. He thought I was fragile. Fuck. I didn't need this at eight in the morning because I was fragile, in a way I despised and could barely admit to myself. And I hated the idea that he saw it. I forced it down, putting on a front that I hoped would hold.

"Hey." I twisted my combination lock, then opened the door, trying my hardest to ignore him as I wrestled my chemistry book free.

"Have fun setting fire to Barrington's field?"

"That was Jade." I slammed the door. "The locker room was me."

"Little bit of a pyro, huh?" A smug grin spread across his face when he took a piece of my hair and twirled it around his fingers.

A touch of relief wound its way through me. His annoying little habit of touching my hair felt normal. Like maybe he would just let it go, and I could pretend none of this had ever happened.

"Maybe." I forced a smile and started to class.

I made it three steps before I realized he was following me. He fell in line beside me, barely an inch separating us. Surely, he was not walking me to class? Zepp Hunt was not chivalrous. "Um… hi?" I said.

Instead of acknowledging me, he ripped the decorations off Chase's locker when we passed by, tossing them to the floor. He remained beside me the entire way down the hall, walking off without a word when I ducked into history.

I took a seat at the back of the class, opening my book and keeping my head down. It felt like everyone was staring at me, whispering, but I told myself it was my imagination, that I was paranoid. I focused on the words on the page until Chase dropped to the seat beside me.

"Careful. That might be social suicide," I said, tracing my pen over the word slut someone had scribbled in Sharpie over the corner of the desk.

I expected Chase to say something that would make me feel better, but instead, he greeted me with silence. When I lifted my gaze from my desk, I met an angry glare. Chase's jaw tensed, his stare hardened.

"What the hell is up your ass?"

His palm landed on my desk, covering the word slut when he leaned in close. "Did you fuck Harford?"

My stomach dropped. Of course, there were rumors. I wouldn't have expected any less of the kids at Dayton, but Chase? I expected him, of all people, to defend me, not believe it.

"You did, didn't you?" He shook his head, disgust evident in his tone. "Damn, Monroe."

Shame quickly shifted to anger, forming a tight knot in my chest. Chase had no idea what had happened that night, and the fact he believed it so easily hurt. "Fuck you, Chase."

"I thought you were better than the Barrington quarterback." He pushed to his feet, his disgusted gaze holding mine.

"What did you just say to her?" A shadow loomed over my desk, and when I glanced up, Bellamy was squaring up to Chase.

"It's fine, Bellamy," I said.

"Wow. Harford. Hunt. Even got Hunt's little minions running around after you."

Bellamy smiled right before he nailed Chase in the gut. I might have felt bad for him if he hadn't deserved it so much. Chase doubled over on a cough, and Bellamy grabbed the back of his neck, mumbling something in his ear before he sent Chase stumbling down the aisle.

Bellamy fell into the vacated seat, and we didn't speak for the entire class.

I had expected gossip to be floating around—about the fight, possibly about Max getting beat up. What I hadn't anticipated were the rumors defending Max and making me out to be a whore. Stupid me.

It was always the girl's fault.