Take Me On

“It’ll work out,” I say. Because there’s no way he’d permit his son to fail out his senior year. Dad’s expectations of me may be low, but he won’t let anyone else think poorly of his family. The bastard has always been about reputation. “I’ll be up there later tonight.”

“Make it sooner—as in now.” She pauses. “And visit Rachel.”

“I’ll see Dad.” I hang up and head for my car. I told Mom it would work out, but a restless thought inside me wonders if Dad’s serious.

Haley

An hour bus ride to my uncle’s, forty minutes waiting for Dad’s prescription and, as I walk out of the pharmacy, I still haven’t thought of a witty enough comeback for when Jax looks at me from across the dinner table and mouths John’s last word to me: “Runner.”

“Am not” won’t do the job.

Especially since Jax will ignore his actual age of seventeen and revel in his maturity level of six with the response of, “Are too.”

Short of kicking him in the balls from underneath the table, there’s no way to win once someone says, “Are too.” Besides, Jax has learned to cover himself when he sits across from me.

On top of it all, I’ve been rejected by the University of Notre Dame. My eyes sting and I blink. I could say it’s the wind burning my eyes, but that’s a lie. I’m awesome at lying to everyone else but have yet to perfect lying to myself.

Trying to ignore the cold, I shove my hands in my jeans pockets and weave through the crowd huddled underneath the covered sidewalk. The plastic bags from the pharmacy and grocery store crackle as they swing from my wrist. Between the darkness of the winter night and the faces buried under hats and coats, the people I pass become nothing more than expressionless ghosts.

The sun set a half hour ago and I’ve got a little less than fifteen minutes till curfew. The Dictator is strict about the comings and goings of anyone living in his household.

We’re having squirrel tonight for dinner.

Squirrel.

As in the rodent with the fuzzy tail that gets zapped on power lines.

Squirrel.

And it’s my turn to say grace. On top of not securing a comeback, I’ve also failed to find a way to thank God for the bounty that is squirrel. I’m sure, “Dear God, thank you for the fuzzy rat you gave us to eat and please don’t let me die of the plague after I digest it. Is that gristle? Amen,” will meet my uncle’s approval.

With ten people in one two-bedroom house, there are bound to be some personality clashes or, in my and my uncle’s case, a revisit of the Cold War. Actually, Russia and the U.S. liked each other a tiny bit more. He has a problem with girls who think, and I’m a fan of using my brain.

The moment I round the corner of the strip mall, two hulking silhouettes emerge from behind the back of the building. More male muscle reeking of ominous threat than friendly passerby. Instincts flare. Senses go on alert. I wouldn’t be the first girl jumped in this neighborhood.

I freeze and glance over my shoulder. Behind me, the ghosts fade into the stores, leaving me alone and with limited options. Going forward forces me to pass the two shadows, but it’s also the lone path into the neighborhood. Heading back toward the shops will make me late, and I promised Mom I’d never break curfew. My breath billows out in a cloud, a reminder that sleeping outside can mean frostbite.

Six months ago, I would have met the shadowy threat with no fear. In fact, I probably would have taunted them, but being hit until you break causes courage to disappear.

“I don’t have any money,” I call out. It’s not a lie.

A voice carries from the dark blobs. “Just give us the pills.”

My head shakes back and forth. Mom saved for two months to buy this medication. We lost our insurance. We’ve lost everything and Dad’s suffering. We’ve all been suffering. And Dad needs to get better. He needs to find a job. We have to get out of this awful place.

The shadows descend and I stumble backward off the curb. My heart pounds as I free my hands from my pockets and the bags slide farther up my wrist. It’s not my hands that I’m lethal with. It’s my legs. My feet. I’ve been trained to kick. The instinct to run battles my instinct to fight.

A horn blares. My head jerks to the right. Lights blind me. My hand flies to my face to act as a shield as my stomach shoots up. A scream tears out of my throat.

West

“Jesus Christ!” I slam on the breaks and practically push the pedal through the floor as I will my SUV to stop. My tires squeal and my body whiplashes as the car jerks to a halt. The headlights spotlight a girl. Her arms protect her face and I try to process that she’s still standing.

Standing. As in not on the ground.

Not dead.

One thing went right today.

The relief flooding through my body is quickly chased by a strong helping of anger. She jumped out in front of me, not taking one look. Jumped.

She lowers her arms and I’m met by the sight of wide dark eyes. Her wild mane of light brown hair whips across her face as the wind picks up. She blinks and so do I.

She glances over her shoulder and I follow her line of sight into the shadows. Panic sweeps over her face and she stumbles, acting disoriented. Shit on it all damn day, what if I did hit her?

I throw the SUV in Park and, as I open the door, she points at me. “Watch it!”

Watch it? She’s the one who stepped out in front of me, then froze like a damn deer. I launch myself out of the car. “Sidewalks, chick. That’s where you stop. Not in the middle of a street!”

With a shake of her head, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and actually steps into me. If it were anyone else, such a movement would send rage from the tip of my toes to my fists, but instead I smirk and cross my arms over my chest. She may be tall, but compared to me she’s a tiny thing, and for the first time today, I find amusement. I’ve seen that type of fire burning in people’s eyes a million times in my life. Just never from a girl, and never in eyes so hauntingly gorgeous.

“You were the one not paying attention!” the girl shouts. “And besides, this is a parking lot, you moron. Not a dragway. You were going, what? Fifty?”

The word moron slips underneath my skin and my muscles tighten. But she has me. I was speeding. “Are you hurt?” I ask.

“What?”

“Did my car hit you?”

The fire within her wavers and she peers into the dark again. “No.”

Two huddled forms skulk near the back of the building. I refocus on the walking, talking inferno in front of me and, despite my Calc teacher’s opinion on my intelligence, I’m able to do the math. “Is that trouble for you?”

Her eyes shoot to mine and in them is a blaring yes, but because girls make no sense she answers, “No.”

A crackling sound draws my attention. The edges of a small white paper bag poke from a plastic bag. It’s a prescription. I give her the once–over, then turn to the guys hiding by the building. Dammit. Even the book geeks at my school who’ve never seen the outside of their PlayStation basement shrines are aware of the urban legends surrounding this neighborhood. She can deny it all she wants, but she has problems. “Get in my car.”

The fire returns. “Hell no.” She inspects the bruises forming along my jawline, then surveys my scraped and swollen knuckles.

“Look, it’s me or them.” I motion toward the thugs with my chin. “And I’m telling you, I’m not the bad guy in this scenario.”

She laughs. And if it wasn’t such a beautiful sound, I’d be insulted.

“Because a guy driving an Escalade in this neighborhood is the equivalent of a Boy Scout.”

The right side of my mouth tips up. Did she call me a drug dealer?

“From the looks of you—” she glances at my knuckles again “—well, let’s just say you must have your own baggage and I’m not a baggage-claim type of girl.”

“No, you’re the type that runs into traffic.”

She smiles and I like it. The anger racing through me moments before vanishes. I rub my jaw, then lean my hand against my open car door. Long light brown hair with waves, dark eyes that sure as hell suck me in as they sparkle, a tight body and a kick-ass attitude. Truth be told, I like more than her smile. Too bad I almost killed her by running her over. It’ll make asking her out awkward.

“Get into my car and I’ll drive you home.” I hold up both my palms. “I swear. No drive-bys on the way.”

The smile fades when I say the word home and her eyes lose the sparkle. Something deep within me hollows out.

She slides close, very close—as in her clothes brush mine. She angles herself so that she’s between me and my car door. The heat of her body rolls onto me and my fingers itch to touch. I suck in air and I’m overwhelmed by the sweet scent of wildflowers.

She lifts her face to look at me and whispers, “Getting into that car with you is as big a risk as walking down that viaduct. If you’re bent on helping me, do me a favor.”

“What?” I breathe out.

“Stand here and act like you’re talking to me. Convincingly enough that it’ll buy me time.”

And before I can process a word, she cuts past me, crouches against the Escalade, ducks behind the vehicle and escapes into the night. “Hey!”

The shadows emerge from behind the building. Two guys bolt into the beams of my headlights and in the direction of the neighborhood. Their feet pound the concrete.

In the distance, instead of two dark forms running into the night, there are three—and the first one doesn’t have a decent head start. I jump into my Escalade and tear off after them.

Haley

My lungs burn and my arms and legs pump quickly. The graffiti on the concrete walls of the freeway viaduct blend into a colored blur. I’m out of shape. Six months ago, I could have outrun them, but not now. Not today. My feet smack against the blacktop and the sound echoes in the tunnel. The stench of mold and decay fills my nose.

There’s a splash as someone stomps into a puddle, followed by the sound of more shoes against the street. My breath comes out in gasps and I will my muscles to move faster.

Heat rises off my body and into the cold night and my nose begins to run. I don’t want them to hurt me, and the thought of a man’s hand colliding with my body causes my heart to clench. My fist tightens around Dad’s medication. I don’t want to lose it. The answer is to be faster, but, if they catch me, I’ll be left with no other choice than to fight.

Their footsteps ring closer in my ears and my old training floods into my brain. I need to turn, face them and form a defensive stance. I can’t be dragged to the ground by my hair.

Lights from behind create a beacon of hope. My pursuers’ footfalls continue in their hunt but fall off near the walls of the tunnel, out of sight of the approaching car. I put on a burst of speed. Two more blocks and I’ll be inside. Safe from this.

Brakes squeal and a door snaps open. Voices. Shouting. The sound of a fist smacking into flesh. Continuing, I peek over my shoulder and air slams out of me when I notice the Escalade.

No.

Please, God, no.

My body rocks forward as my feet become concrete. It’s the guy from the shopping plaza. He’s fighting them. Three shadows spar against the headlights; a hellish dogfight of arms, fists, legs, grunts and growls. They’re all the same height, but I know which one’s him. He’s thicker. More muscular. He’s a scrapper, but he’s going to lose.

Two against one.

My chest rises and falls and I glance down the street, toward my uncle’s house, toward relative safety. I’m minutes away from curfew, I’ve got my father’s prescription in my grasp, but leaving a guy behind—it’s not how I was raised.

Knowing this has the potential to end extremely badly for me, I switch directions to join the fight.

West

Son of a bitch.

My head turns as the bastard with the black hoodie sucker punches me in the jaw. Blood pours from my lip, but I ignore it and the pain as I ram my fist into his stomach. He goes down, but it’s not him that has me worried.

I spin to the left, but I’m too late. The asshole with the winter coat, the guy who’s schooled on how to fight, he’s back on his feet after I busted him in the nuts. The psychopath grins as he nears me. He rubs a spot on his forehead and widens his stance, just like I’ve seen pay-per-view fighters do in the ring.

My fists go up, but my muscles are heavy. Two fights in one day and taking on two guys at once. I could almost laugh. Guess I’ve learned my hard limit. We round each other and I try to keep an eye on the guy still on the ground.

We circle.

Slowly.

Shit. This kid’s a fighter. A real one. And something tells me he’s not going to make the mistake of letting me kick him in the balls again.

He flashes toward me at lightning speed. Two rapid-fire punches from the left. My body sways and my vision becomes fuzzy. I swing out, sensing he’s close, but I miss.

A hit from the right—mind-shattering, blinding pain—and I fall to the ground. Rocks dig into my knees and warmth rushes to the area near my eye. Everything wavers. My thoughts. My sight. A metallic taste floods my mouth and I grab on to one thought.

“Is she gone?” I ask. “Did she get away?”

This can’t be in vain.

I couldn’t protect Rachel. I couldn’t stop Gavin from pursuing his addiction. I couldn’t stop Dad from placing everything else first. I couldn’t stop Mom from having an affair, from finding a way out. But I can do this. I can protect her. I need redemption.

He stands over me, and through one eye I see yellowish hair and dark eyes fixed on me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I know where to find Haley.”

Haley. Pretty name for a pretty girl. I try to breathe, but my lungs cramp up. I glance at him one last time, knowing there’s no mercy rule with this kid. “Mind leaving the car?”

“Sure.”

Yeah. It’ll be gone before I peel myself off the concrete. I plant my foot on the ground and the world rotates. Fuck, I’m screwed. I lift my head and chuckle when I notice blood trickling near his mouth. “I nailed the fighter.”

He pulls his arm back and the world goes black.

* * *

“Please be breathing!” A familiar voice calls me from the darkness. A feminine voice. A beautiful voice. Soft fingers brush against my forehead and I suck in air. Pain slices through my chest—breathing is bad.

“Please wake up. I didn’t go through this for you to be dead.”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” I mumble. Her tone, a mixture of torture and agony, scrapes at my soul. It’s the same tone Rachel had when she felt I had betrayed her. “I’m sorry.”

The cold fingers touching my head pause. Why isn’t she warm?

“Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”

The voice is familiar, but not Rachel’s. I fight the fog and force consciousness and every muscle screams as I stretch.

“I’m awake.” Not what I meant to say. I meant to ask if she was okay. At the moment, brain and mouth aren’t connected. My mind’s jumbled; a scattered mess as I try to sort out why I fell asleep, why I’m in pain, why it’s cold, why my bed’s hard—

“You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were dead.”

—why there’s a girl in my bed wondering if I’m dead. I pry my eyes open and successfully free one. There’s three of her at first and, through blinking, she slowly evolves into one. “I know you.”

On her knees, Haley hovers near me. Behind her, my car sits, still running. The headlights highlight a couple of blond strands in her light brown hair.

“Why did you follow me?” she demands. “All you had to do was act like we were still talking. But no, you call out after me, then look to where I was heading. Why not skywrite I had bolted for the neighborhood?”

She’s trembling. I reach out and rest my hand on her wrist. The skin beneath my own is ice. “You’re cold.”

“So are you. You’re probably in shock.”

My thumb swipes across her skin, as if that one movement could warm her. Protect her. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. None of this is all right.” She removes her arm and I suddenly feel empty.

There’s a tear on her face. Just one. And she quickly wipes it away. The action causes an ache beyond the pulsating of my skin and head. Something’s wrong. My eyes dart around and I quickly catch up on events. I’m not in bed. I almost hit her with my car, we fought, I discovered she had trouble, I followed her here and then I got my ass kicked. I lift my head and immediately regret the movement with a groan. “Are you okay?”

“You should have listened!”

Not an answer, and I left my patience back at the shopping plaza. “Are. You. Okay?”

“I’m fine,” she snaps. “Just fine. Freaking fantastic fine. Meeting you is the pinnacle of my existence.”

“Some people say thank you when a complete stranger jumps two guys for them.”

Haley slumps against the bumper of my car and a rush of air leaves her body. “Sorry and thank you. It’s—” she waves her hand in the air “—messed up, but that’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

A car slowly drives around us. I expect it to stop, but it keeps going. Great neighborhood. “They left my car.”

“Yeah.” She glances away. “They’re gone.”

My eyes narrow on her face, but she flips her hair so it’s hiding her cheek and jaw. I blink as my sight blurs. Something’s off. They would have stolen the car... “I need to get up.” But not a single cell in my body responds. “They could come back.”

“They won’t.” Haley nurses her right hand. “Trust me—they won’t. At least not tonight. Tomorrow maybe, but not tonight.”

Tomorrow? What? I rise onto my elbows and the nauseating spinning convinces me to ease my head back to the ground. Driving is going to be a bitch.

“Stop it. You need to stay still. In fact, you need an ambulance.”

“No hospitals.” Showing at an E.R. like this will cause Dad to go Chernobyl.

“Your friend told me the same thing. It’s why I haven’t called 911. Possibly a stupid decision on my part.”

The pounding stills. “What friend?”

“Haley called Isaiah,” says a female voice to the left. Haley and I jerk our heads toward the darkness. Haley bolts up and jumps over me, acting as if she’s my protector.

I’m dreaming. This is all a bad dream. I’m going to wake tomorrow and think how crazy real this whole thing felt because there is no way my little sister’s best friend would be here.

“I’m Abby,” the voice says to Haley, closer now. “You and I go to Eastwick together.”

Like a stunning yet sadistic version of the grim reaper with long dark hair, Abby walks into the light wearing a black hoodie and skintight blue jeans.

“No, you don’t,” I mumble. “Eastwick is a public school. Abby goes to private school. Not mine—one of those religious ones.” Saint Mary’s. Saint Martha’s. Saint who-the-fuck-knows. It’s what Rachel told my mother. This is a dream. Just a dream.

Haley’s eyes flicker from me to Abby, then back again. She never relaxes her position and my mind stops and starts like it’s stuttering. Fuck me—Haley’s in the same stance as fighter guy.

“I’ve seen you around,” Haley says to Abby. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah. Do you?”

“We sort of ran into each other.”

I laugh and they both stare at me like I’m insane.

“That’s West.” Abby slurs my name. “He’s been causing problems for a friend of mine.”

Haley edges herself between me and Abby like she’s willing to box this girl for me.

Abby chuckles. “Relax. You called Isaiah and Isaiah called me. For the moment, I’m playing guardian angel.”

Isaiah? “Hell no.” I shove off the ground like I’m doing a sit-up and only get far enough to prop my arms on my knees. I’ve never liked rides that went in circles and I haven’t recently changed my mind. My eyes shut tight. “I don’t want that bastard’s help.”

“Well, you’re getting it,” says Abby. When I reopen my eyes, Abby smirks. “And it looks like you need it.”

“Screw that,” I mutter and spit out new blood that’s trickled from the cut on my lip.

Isaiah is Rachel’s boyfriend and he’s the reason why she’s in the hospital. Dad found Rachel with him at a dragway and that’s where Dad and Rachel had their accident. I’ll roast in hell and haul Isaiah there with me before I accept his help. “How does he know about this?”

Haley drops beside me. “You were out. Cold. I found your cell and I was desperate to find someone who knew you to see what hospital you should go to, so I dialed the first number I found—”

“And he answered,” I cut her off. Haley must have called Rachel. My brother told me that except for a few hours here and there Isaiah’s been chained to Rachel’s bedside at the hospital. Night and day. And that he carries her phone because he discovered it in the wreckage the day after the Jaws of Life pulled her out of the car. We assumed it was broken. Who would have guessed a phone would make it when Rachel barely survived?

“West.” Haley surveys the damage to my face, my hands, my body. “I really am sorry.”

God, I’m jacked up because everything pounds like a bitch and I can only think about her beautiful dark eyes. “It’s all right.”

She grabs a bag off the ground and stands. “I’ve got to go. I’m late.”

Abby tilts her head as she assesses Haley. “You know who I am?”

Haley straightens like she’s greeting an ax murderer. “Yes.”

I’m missing entire puzzle pieces here, as in everything except for the one corner piece I hold. Nothing here is as it seems, and I hate being the odd man out.

Abby thrusts her chin in my direction. “His younger sister is my best friend. I can help you...with whatever situation this is.”

“No,” says Haley quickly. “I’m fine. Look, I’ve really got to go.” She takes a step into the darkness.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” They ignore me, and why shouldn’t they? It’s not like I could get up and force them to listen.

Abby shrugs. “If you change your mind...”

“I won’t.” Haley finally turns her attention to me. “Thanks, West. But the next time a girl tells you to do something, do it, okay?”

I’d call her nothing but attitude if it weren’t for the defeat in her tone. “Haley...”

She doesn’t wait for me to talk; instead she races down the street. Fucked. Up. Dream. I rub my eyes and consider standing.

Abby’s tennis shoes crunch against the crumbling blacktop and halt at my feet. “Your choice—home, hospital or a place to lay low until you’re ready for one of the first two options. The prize behind curtain C comes with a shower and a change of clothes.”

I dismiss my original answer of no when I notice the blood on my shirt. I can’t go home or to the hospital like this. I can’t do that to my mother.

Using the bumper of my car, I struggle up and hobble to the passenger side as I eye Abby sliding into the driver’s seat. I’m slow getting in, but I’ll be damned if I ask for help.

The interior light dims when I shut the door. Abby fastens her seat belt and wraps her fingers around the steering wheel. “I don’t have my driver’s license.”

“Can you drive?”

“Sure.”

That didn’t sound reassuring. “Just go.”

She doesn’t. “You should buy goldfish.”

“What?”

“For your car. Like build a tank in between your front and back seats. It’d be different and I like different.”

If it will get me to a shower faster... “Okay.”

She smiles. “Really?”

“Sure.”

Abby shifts the car into gear. “And, West?”

I roll my head to look at her.

“I know your mother’s secret.”

Haley

I’m late.

My feet pound rhythmically against the pavement. Is my uncle standing by the door waiting? Will he grant me mercy since it’s my first offense? I have no idea how he’ll react, and, I’ll admit, my uncle terrifies me.

I’m in shock. I know it. I’m calm. Too calm. And nothing hurts. After what happened...I round the corner and light shines through the cracks of the closed curtains, but the porch is completely dark. At night, the small vinyl house radiates an eerie white glow. My legs slow as I approach. I am so screwed.