The accusation hits like the gut punch I still have the bruise from, courtesy of Todd. I may or may not have had a very public meltdown when he and Mom announced their engagement at a fancy restaurant owned by one of his campaign donors, and he made his feelings about it known in private.
“It's not like that,” I mutter.
"Isn't it?" He slides off the hood of his car, and suddenly he's towering over me, the smoking joint still stuck between his tattooed fingers. "You're moving into Mayor Waterson's mansion. How long before you decide we're too fucking embarrassing for your new life?"
"That's not—I would never—" The words tangle in my throat. Because part of me, the part that's been beaten down by Todd's endless criticisms, wonders if maybe he's right. Maybe I will change. Maybe I'll become someone who's ashamed of where I came from. Someone who wants to cut off all the best parts of me.
"Bullshit." Kade's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "You think we're stupid? You think we don't know how this works? Pretty girl gets rescued from the trailer park, becomes pretty rich girl, starts dating jocks and leaves the losers behind. Tale as old as fucking time."
"Kade," Jinx pleads.
Tank gives a warning growl. It's the first time I've heard him go against his brother since he brought me into the group, and it actually gives Kade pause for a second.
But the coldness comes back into Kade’s eyes immediately.
“I’m not leaving you.” The fear and desperation in my voice makes me wince. “I’ll still see you guys. We'll still hang out here, still?—”
"When?" Cyrus interrupts, his laptop forgotten beside him. “Between charity galas? When you’re not busy doing whatever else rich people do for fun?"
"Probably hunting freaks like us for sport," Jinx mumbles, because he watches way too many horror movies.
"You don't understand." I'm grasping at straws now, trying to hold together something that's already falling apart. "It's just a house. Just a different address. I’ll still be me."
Kade laughs bitterly. "Sure, Princess. Because money and status never change people. Ask anyone who's ever crawled out of the gutter."
“Iwon't change,” I bite out. “I swear,nothingwill change.”
Tank reaches for me, his scarred fingers gentle against mine as they wrap around my entire hand. I cling to him as tight as I can.
I can tell Kade wants to argue, but he doesn't. I'm not sure if it's because he thinks Tank will flatten him into the pavement if he uses that tone with me again, or if it’s just because he doesn't think it's worth it to argue. Either way, Kade's gaze burns hotter than the lighter he's obsessively flicking again.
"Whatever," he finally says, the word dripping with venom. "Enjoy your new life in the mansion, Princess. Hope it's everything you ever fucking dreamed of."
"That's not fair," I say, my voice smaller than I want it to be. "This isn't my choice."
"Lifeisn't fair." Kade's jaw tightens, the muscles working beneath his skin. "You think any of us got a choice about the shit we deal with? You think Tank chose to get his face torn apart by fucking dogs? You think Jinx chose to have a mom who brings home a new abusive asshole every month?"
"Dude," Jinx warns, but Kade's already on a roll.
"You've always had one foot out the door, Ellie. We all knew it. You were just slumming it with us until something better came along."
"Kade, man, come on," Cyrus barks, but Kade's already stalking back to his car.
"I'm out. Anyone who wants a ride better get in now."
Tank stays rooted beside me as always, his hand still wrapped around mine. But Jinx and Cyrus exchange looks, clearly torn.
"We'll figure it out," Jinx says, giving me a quick, fierce hug. "Kade's just being Kade. He'll cool off."
But the look in his eyes tells a different story. He doesn't believe it any more than I do.
"We'll still see each other at school," Cyrus offers awkwardly, pushing his glasses up. "It's not like you're moving to another state."
What I don't tell him—what I don't even have the strength to acknowledge to myself—is that starting Monday, I won't be going to Creekside High anymore. The irony of the mayor of the damn town wanting to send his future stepdaughter to a private school where they wear uniforms and drink sparkling water out of a fountain isn't lost on me.
It doesn't matter that it means ripping me away from the only friends I've ever known for senior year. "It's a good opportunity," Mom had insisted, clearly not understanding why the fuck I was sobbing about leaving a trailer park. "Colleges will take you more seriously coming from Pembroke than Creekside."
Yeah, right. More like Todd doesn't want his country club buddies knowing his new daughter is trailer trash.
