I swallow hard and push the thought away as I sling the backpack over my shoulder.
“I think that’s it. We can—”
A noise from the other room cuts me off, and I freeze as my heart seems to stop. There’s low mumbling in a distinctly male voice, and I can’t make out the words, but it doesn’t even matter. I hearhim. And the feeling of dread is even worse than it was the other night. Fear inches up my back and wraps itself around my throat, and I screw my eyes shut in some lame attempt to keep mypanic down.
Spoiler: it doesn’t work.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Alex hisses, and I agree with him, but my feet won’t move. I’m trapped. Trapped with some vise gripping me, holding me in place, refusing to let go.
More words come from the other room, and this time I can make out my mom’s voice mixed withhis. The bed creaks. Heavy footsteps echo. A door slams.
“Nico!” Alex whisper-yells. “Come on!”
His hand grasps mine, and he gives a light squeeze that seems both comforting and like he’s saying “pull yourself the fuck together.” And when I still don’t move, he forgoes the light encouragement and opts for dragging me out of the room.
Everything after that is a blur—a loud, messy blur. We manage to get out of the house and down the stairs to my car, Alex pulling me along behind him the whole way, before my mom catches up with us. Alex opens the passenger door for me and tells me to get in, that he’ll drive, and he grabs my backpack and tosses it into the back seat as Mom throws open the front door.
I turn to look up at her, holding onto the car’s doorframe for support. There’s anger in her eyes and something else. Why the fuck is she mad at me? And when did that happen? I stare at her, scowling, and she stares right back, shaking her head.
“Get in,” Alex urges, his hand once again settling on my back. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He’s right. But I’m sick, and I’m stuck, wishing she could read my mind. She has to know why I’m leaving. Does she really not carethatmuch?
“You fucking promised me!” I yell, because I can’t help it. I can’t hold it back. It’s stupid, I know. But I need her to hear it. “You promised me he’d never be back!”
Her expression falters for a second,onlyfor a second, and thenshe’s frowning again, shaking her head at me in disapproval. She opens her mouth to speak, stepping outside of the house and onto the porch, but Alex moves in front of me so I can’t see her, and his hands come up to my shoulders with another of those light squeezes.
“Hey, Nico,” he says quietly, and I look up and meet his eyes. They’re filled with concern and a soft understanding. “Let’s go, okay? Let’s go now.”
“I . . .”
“I know,” he says, his voice still gentle. My jaw trembles, and I look down at the ground. “You have every right to be mad. This is inexcusable. But now’s not the time to talk to her about it, okay? Some other time, when, uh, when he’s not here. Then you can talk to her. Okay? For now, right now, let’s get back to my house. There’s time. You can get changed, and—”
There’s a noise behind him, more voices, and my eyes close as the air leaves my lungs again.
They’re arguing. About me. And I hear Patrick’s voice clear and loud and angry, a harshness to it.
“What’s that little fucker doing here?”
“Pat, not right now.”
“Fuck that, the kid needs to be reminded whose house this is and that he can’t just—”
Whatever else that asshole says, I don’t hear it, because Alex squeezes my shoulders and starts talking again, louder this time, so his voice drowns out the other sounds around me.
“Nico, look at me,” he says, and I do. I lift my chin and open my eyes.
Fucking tears are sliding down my cheeks. Alex shakes his head slowly, and the muscles in his jaw twitch.
“We need to get going, okay? You’re going to look at me, listen to my voice. Nothing else, okay?”
I nod.
“Get in the car now, here.” And he guides me, his hands careful and light and gentle. I’m not even sure how it happens, but I’m suddenly sitting in the passenger seat of my car, handing him the keys. He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Keep your eyes down. You don’t even need to see that bastard, okay?”
I nod again. The door shuts, and not more than a few seconds later, Alex is climbing into the driver’s seat. I still hear yelling, and the voices seem closer, louder, angrier. But Alex immediately starts talking again as though to keep my focus on him.
“I’m not sure when the last time I drove your car was,” he says. He laughs a small, humorless laugh and starts up the car. “And remember last summer when I borrowed it because I needed to get groceries, but I got that flat tire right as I turned into the parking lot at the supermarket? Hah, just my luck, eh? Let’s see if I can remember... it tends to stick a little...”
