Page 12 of Trailer Park Princess

"Close your eyes," Jinx demands.

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Princess." Kade's voice goes uncharacteristically soft in that way that makes my heart do weird things lately. "Trust us."

I hate when he uses that voice. Makes me want to do stupid things like actually trust teenage boys, which everyone knows is a terrible life choice. But these aren't just any teenage boys. They're mine.

I close my eyes.

There's shuffling, whispered arguments—"No, turn it this way," "You're gonna scratch it, dumbass," "Both of you shut up"—and then the telltale squeak of wheels.

"Okay," Jinx says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "Open."

A bike. But not just any bike. A brand new bike that looks like it rolled out of my dreams.

Pink. Bright, obnoxious, perfect pink that practically glows in the dim light of the RV. White handlebars with sparkly ribbon woven into the leather, a gleaming chain, and rainbow spokes.

"It's… pink," I breathe, at a loss for coherent thoughts, never mind words.

"Yeah, well." Kade wrinkles his nose like the color physically offends him. "We know you're obsessed with that stupid color?—"

Tank's elbow catches him in the ribs hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Kade doubles over, wheezing.

"What he means," Cyrus says dryly, "is we thought you'd like it."

"I love it." The words come out choked, and shit, I'm crying. Actually crying over a stupid bike. But it's not just the bike. "How did you—" I freeze, awe turning to confusion turning to panic. "Wait, did you guys steal this?!"

"No," Kade snaps with a scowl, clearly insulted, like he didn't just steal a handful of candy bars in front of me at the gas station yesterday. The fact that one of them was a white chocolate Reese's didn't matter. And scarfing it down after doesn't count as endorsement of his crime, I just didn't see any reason in it going to waste. "We didn't fucking steal it. We bought it." He's still rubbing his side.

Cyrus shrugs. "Wasn't a big deal. We pooled our cash, bought the parts, Tank did all the mechanical stuff. Even added some tune-ups."

"Before you whine about how we can't afford it, business has been good," Kade interjects, and I have to snap my mouth shut because that's exactly what I was going to say, and I hate proving him right.

"Business," Jinx snorts. "You mean your protection racket."

Kade flips him off without looking. "It's a legitimate business model."

"It's extortion," Cyrus adds helpfully. "And it's profitable."

"Damn right it is," Kade says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his tattered jeans, the ones with all the chains hanging off them. "Mrs. Cove hasn't had her garden gnomes fucked with in three weeks. That's a new record."

"Besides, it's not like it's new," Jinx says, earning a glare from Kade. "What? It's not."

"We put a lot of work into it," Kade grumbles. "And the tires are new. Tank and I fixed it up, and Jinx put on the stupid paint and girly shit."

"I ordered the parts," Cyrus adds. "Kade doesn't even know how to use a credit card online."

"I know how to use your mom's credit card," Kade shoots back.

"My mom's dead, idiot."

Their bickering fades into the background as I run my hands over the handlebars, the seat, the frame. Jinx is right. At first glance, the bike looked brand new, but then I see the logo. A Gershin. A real brand, not the cheap shit you get at a big box store. There's no way any of us could afford this new, even if they were running a protection racket on the north end of town. And they not only fixed it up but customized it, all for me.

"Thank you," I say, looking at each of them. "Really. This is..."

"Sappy?" Kade suggests. He's being a smartass, as usual, but I hear the note of anxiousness in his voice he tries so hard to hide behind his battered jackets and bravado.

"Perfect," I finish. "It's perfect."