Page 26

Dallas

If I thought I had any chance of escaping this restroom before, it evaporates before my eyes when Tyler appears at Jordy’s shoulder. She glances at Jordy and then peers at me suspiciously with her teal eyes that I can’t read worth shit. Now the two of them are blocking my path to the door, and a sickening realization washes over me.

Tyler was in Jordy’s car that night at the old railroad bridge. Clearly, they’re friends, and she doesn’t owe me anything. Hell, she may not even remember that I was even there. But one thing’s for sure…

I am totally and utterly fucked.

“Hey, Tyler,” Jordy’s voice hitches insidiously, “did you hear that Alex is a pedophile now?”

As much as I want to start yelling at Jordy, I can’t take my eyes off her hands, still toggling the knife back and forth. Then she flips it open with a click, making my heartrate skyrocket.

“He wanted to keep it quiet,” she continues, “but some little gutter rat couldn’t keep her mouth shut.” She waves her hand—and the knife—making me flinch. “And he lost his temper!”

Tyler remains silent, her eyes shifting back and forth between us as Jordy speaks.

“He lost his temper and gutted you in this shitty bathroom like the trash that you are. Or maybe…” her lips stretch into a diabolical grin and she lowers her voice to nearly a whisper, “maybe he takes you out to the woods…”

My jaw tightens and I feel the veins in my neck begin to swell.

“Maybe Alex takes his piece of trash out to the woods, and after he kills you, he stuffs you in a pipe until you’re nothing but a rotting, faceless pile of shit. Just…like…your stepsister.”

My muscles tremble as the panic rises. But Jordy’s still not done.

“And then he’ll come home, lay down in his bed next to me, and I’ll help him forget all about the nameless dead girl who almost ruined his life.”

My pulse is thumping so hard in my ears that I can barely hear her words anymore. My cheeks radiate with heat and my chin begins to tremble.

“That’s enough, Jordy,” Tyler mutters with exasperation.

But Jordy ignores Tyler, unfazed.

“Are you going to cry?” she sneers down at me. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO CRY ABOUT?” she screams in my face.

Jordy’s hand flies up and I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I hear the smack, it’s not from her palm on the side of my face. When I open my eyes, Tyler’s gripping Jordy’s wrist and Jordy is glaring at her with a mixture of shock and rage.

“What are you doing?” Jordy snaps at Tyler. “I told you she’s fucking Alex!”

In an instant, Tyler seizes Jordy’s ponytail with her other hand and jerks her head back, slowly bringing her to her knees.

“And I said…that’s enough,” Tyler growls in a deep voice that doesn’t sound like it belongs to her.

While Jordy is still overcome with shock, grimacing in pain, Tyler reaches down and snatches the knife out of her hand. Then she flips it shut and holds it out to me.

“Take it.”

I hesitate, but when Tyler flashes me a warning look, I immediately take the knife from her and stash it in my bag. Then she leans over, turning her attention back to Jordy.

“You keep her name out of your mouth, you keep his name out of your mouth, and if you breathe a word of this to anyone else, I’ll cut your fucking tongue out next.”

I can only stare at them, my mouth ajar, wondering if I’m about to witness an actual murder.

“Dallas,” Tyler barks, her voice echoing off the cinder block walls like thunder, “go home.”

This time, I don’t hesitate and slink past Tyler toward the door before she decides to turn her ire on me, too.

“Leave through the cafeteria,” she adds. “You were never here.”

I do what she says and dart out of the restroom, making a right into the cafeteria to avoid the doors at the back of the vestibule.

The moment I grab the handle, I hear a crash, and then a muted scream followed by a series of bangs. I don’t hesitate, and as soon as I open the door, I take off in a dead sprint through the cafeteria, not looking back.

Except, this time, there’s no one around to witness my record time.

●●●

I used to wish that Evie went to Dire Ridge so I could see her every day. But, now, I’m glad she didn’t for the simple fact that I know that her name won’t be called right after Principal Copenhaver hands Colson his diploma at graduation.

Instead, I sit next to my mom and Scott in the school auditorium, listen to Bryce Decker give her Valedictorian speech, and then watch Alex, Colson, Aiden, and Mason all walk across the stage with the rest of the seniors in their royal blue caps and gowns. I follow them outside like I’m walking through a dream and meet them under the giant burr oak on the front lawn where I watch them take pictures together like they have at every single event since we were kids. They stand with the rest of the seniors from the soccer team and pose for more pictures, and afterward, they huddle together and shout the same cheer I’ve heard for the last four years…

Beasts of waste!

Beasts of desolation!

We die alone…

But together…

Rulers of creation!

And each time Alex glances my way, my skin stings in the shape of a 2 and a 3, where the fresh cuts he gave me are still healing. There’s a lot I want to say, but there’s no more time or space to say it. All I have left is a box on my dresser with a folded piece of paper sitting on top of it, untouched since he placed it there almost five days ago. For some reason, it felt like if I opened it, it would mean that he’s really gone.

But this morning, while Alex is probably on his way to boot camp, I decide to finally carry the box to my bed. I take a seat, cross-legged, and start with the paper. When I unfold it, I realize it’s a letter.

Dear Dal,

I was thinking about what I was doing 3 years ago. My dad was still alive. He was the glue that held everyone together. Now it’s Adrian, who’s more like a strand of dental floss about to snap at any second. Not even the mint kind, either.

But you’re right, Adrian is like Darryl Curtis. He’s strong for everyone on the outside, but he’s killing himself on the inside. I was his last hope, but I still turned out to be a disappointment. To be clear, I don’t think I’m a disappointment, but I can see why he thinks so.

3 years doesn’t seem very long, but it’s a lifetime. It’s a chasm that you can’t cross and one I can’t drag you over, even if you’re the only one I want to take with me. Maybe if I were a better man, I’d tell you to move on and keep me in your memory or some dumb simp shit like that. But I’m not.

I’m fucking selfish as hell and I hope you think about me every minute of every day and the thought of me ruins anything you could ever have with anyone else. No one is ever going to be as good for you as me because I know you, I’ll always keep your secrets, and I love you like no one else knows how to.

I promise I’ll come back. And if you’ve moved on by then and you’re dating some douche in salmon shorts and boat shoes, I’ll wreck that shit and make you mine anyway. How’s that for a promise? Do you think Bob the soc was wearing something like that before he got knifed by a greaser like Johnny? Consider it a warning.

But I should know better. There’s no way a girl who can get through Sen’s Fortress in 10 minutes would ever go for someone like that.

I know you don’t think I’ll ever come back to Dire Ridge, but this box is insurance. A guarantee that I will. You told me some of your secrets, so now you get to know a few of mine. Guard them with your life, and when I get back, I’ll do the same for you.

I must look like a basket case, sitting in the middle of my bed, reading Alex’s letter while my face contorts back and forth between melancholy and fits of laughter. I’ve never felt so seen, and I’ve never felt more at home than I do with him.

One moment, I feel like I’m on the brink of something exciting, even if it’s just reading his scratchy handwriting on a piece of creased up notebook paper. But the next moment, I’m Ponyboy Curtis, sitting in his room, with the sun shining and the birds chirping outside, staring at the words of my best friend, gone too soon.

But Alex isn’t dead, and his letter doesn’t talk about staying gold and appreciating the beauty in each day. His letter wishes me heartache and despair in his absence, as if he’s not the one on his way to God-knows-where for God-knows-how-long.

What an asshole.

I fold the letter back up and reach for the box, untucking the flaps one by one.

He might be an asshole but, still, I know the truth.

You’re going to get your wish, Alex fucking Barrera…