“Truth.” Honestly, though, I’m not ready for whatever bomb Eric plans to drop.
Eric punches me in the chest. “We all hate you sometimes.”
Gasping, I clutch at my chest. “You wound me.”
Eric rolls his eyes. “Always with the dramatics. Come on.” He stands and tugs me up by the shirt. “If we’re going to be Unholy, we can’t wallow in our shit.”
I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “Said the guy who’s been wallowing in his since Jamie pulled her Houdini act.”
“Shut up when it comes to her.”
I wave my fingers all up in his face. “Oooh. Big bad wannabe Unholy but can’t even talk about one tiny girl without getting upset.”
“Best friend or not, Iwillbeat the shit out of you.” He stalks ahead of me, out of the room.
Shrugging, I fall into step beside him. “Maybe you should. I swear to God, Eric, I didn’t think it was going to hurt like this.”
He nails me with a droll stare from over his shoulder. “You might play stupid, but we both know you’re not. You love her. Your reason for doing this was idiotic, but it’s done. Deal with it. And I’ll deal with my shit with Jamie. We’ll be two screwed up assholes together. Sound good?”
We walk out of the school, and my stoned ass has to blink against the bright sunlight as we step out into the yard. “Sounds good.”
But I see Faith surrounded by a circle of friends. She’s not crying. Not her. Nah, she’s staring murder at me as Eric and I join Anthony and Caleb over by the basketball court. One month, I remind myself. One month and she’s gone. Off to Brighton. One month and I won’t see her in school. Or on the street. Or at Devil’s Peak. And in a year, I’ll finally be old enough to become Unholy—because Moody, the gang’s president, already has a spot waiting for me.
Eric, Anthony, and Caleb have earned their places with the Unholy, too. We just need to go through the formality of the initiation when we turn eighteen. Then we’re set.
Full disclosure. Me becoming an Unholy is another reason I ruined things with Faith. Once she’s in Brighton, she’ll find a man who can give her more than a violent future, because the Unholy rarely live to ripe old ages. Most of them end their lives young-ish and bloody. So, yep. I did her a favor today. She’ll go off to college without the burden of looking over her shoulder. Now, she can focus on what’s in front of her instead of what’s behind her.
Because Eric is right.
Ilove Faith Decker.
I love her enough to make her hate me.
1
Jester
Seven Years Later
Mayhem, Pennsylvania
“This is bullshit. I don’t see any Unholy.”
Sure about that?
I smirk into my bottle of Sam Adams while I listen to the guy beside me run his mouth. Dudebro has been at it for at least ten minutes by my calculations, and while he’s entertaining, it’s time I taught him manners.
All side-eye, I take his measure and peg him for the Scranton crowd with his red Polo shirt and front-creased blue jeans. Maybe Stroudsburg. Definitely not Brighton. That trust fund set rarely slums it this low, especially on a weeknight. Sure, we get the occasional exception, but I doubt these Hollister fanboys qualify. The two girls with them are fuckable enough, though. I’ll give them a good ride—after I humiliate their friends.
“Shut up, Mike.”
No, Mike, don’t listen to Mr. Good Advice. Keep talking.
“Stop being paranoid.” Mike takes a quick sip of his beer. Poured into a glass. He needs a good smack for that atrocity, because what man worth his ballsack drinks beer from a glass? Apparently, this dainty bitch. “If they’re supposed to be these infamous badasses, how come they’re nowhere to be found?”
The guy who issued the warning cringes. “Come on, man, seriously. Watch what you’re saying. If your father finds out we’re here—”
Mike cuts off his friend. “He’ll what? Withhold my allowance this month?” He takes another sip of his drink. “I don’t answer to him.”
