She shakes her head. “No.”
I pull back and frown, noticing the bruise on her forehead. “What happened?” I ask, softly brushing my thumb over the raw skin. My stomach knots with rage. I don’t need to ask who the culprit is.
“Nothing.” She sighs, blinking back tears. “Same ole, same ole.”
“It’s not nothing, Zilphia.”
She shrugs and returns to the futon, pulling her legs to her chest. “What does it matter? I’m stuck hereuntil I graduate.”
I sit beside her. “Let’s run away,” I say, needing to get her away from her toxic family. “Tonight. We can—”
Zilphia presses her slender fingers to my lips. “Sam, please. Just drop it.”
I nod because I can’t stand seeing the sadness in her brown eyes. “Okay.”
“Sam,” she hesitates. “Today… at school. You can’t look at me like that. People will talk.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I reply tightly, rolling my hands into fists. “Let them.”
“Well, I do!” she exclaims, desperation in her voice. “You were watching me like… like…”
I cup her cotton-soft cheek. “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”
“Don’t.” She stands and walks away, keeping her back to me. “If my mother finds out about our friendship, we’ll never see each other again.”
Zilphia’s words are a cold dose of reality. I know she’s right. Mrs. Kensley would transfer her daughter to another school just to keep her away from the likes of me.
I saunter over to Zilphia and grasp her shoulder, turning her around to face me. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Zilphia in my life.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“Don’t mention it.” I glance back at the board games stacked on top of the bookshelf. “Chess?”
A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah.”
I grab the box and arrange the pieces on the table. “Get ready to lose.”
She playfully swats my arm. “Hey, I’ve been getting better.”
Three games in and she hasn’t won yet. I have no problem rubbing it in either.
“Checkmate!” I crow in triumph. “Three wins in a row.”
“Hey, not so fast, the game isn’t over yet,” Zilphia grumbles, flinging a rook at me.
I catch it. “Have some dignity, girl, and accept your defeat gracefully.”
Her fiery gaze narrows on me. “You’re a real butthole, Sam.”
“Dang, is the name-calling necessary?” I ask, feigning hurt.
“If you shut your big fat mouth, I could concentrate,” she snaps, hurling a bishop this time, striking me in the nose.
“Ouch,” I whine, rubbing the spot where the piece landed.
“Not another word,” she hisses, pointing a finger at me.
