Dear God, don’t let this end up being something permanent on my record. I just need to keep my nose clean until I graduate, then I’ll be outta here. New job in a new city, far away from this festering outhouse in the middle of nowhere.
If this guy’s the only thing standing between me and that dazzling future, I’d better make a good impression.
“Small town. County’s lousy with them.” He shrugs. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Try me.”
He considers this for a moment before changing the subject.
“Where were you last night between the hours of ten and midnight, Kai?”
“Do I need a lawyer or something?”
“You’re not under arrest.”
I almost mutter, “Yet,” but thank fuck I bite down on my lip instead.
“And?” Thatcher presses. “Your whereabouts?”
What would be the point in lying? Tons of people saw me at the Rain Dance.
I realize I’m clenching my jaw, and force my teeth apart. “In the woods. At the dance.”
Thatcher doesn’t make a note in his book. Guess he doesn’t have to, because he already knew.
“I’ve got multiple witnesses confirming you assaulted your brother at a party in the woods last night.”
Fuck. I thought I was winning him over, then he uses a word like ‘assaulted’.
I flick wet hair out of my face. Rooke’s damp clothes itch against my skin, but I force myself not to scratch in case the cop thinks I’m doing drugs and wants to get me tested.
MDMA, coke,andweed, bruh.
Jesus. I realize I’m gripping my elbows, but it’s better than fidgeting. Better than scratching like a fucking junkie.
“Anyone mention the shit that went down before the alleged ‘assault’?” I put it in air quotes, because fuck it makes me mad even thinking back to last night.
Before I followed Rooke back to his place.
Before I let him manipulate me into tying Haven to his bed.
Before we both fucked her and?—
My face is suddenly hot, and I hope to God Thatcher sees it as anger, not guilt.
“What ‘shit’ would this be?” Thatcher asks, putting the word in air quotes too. Dude isn’t even sarcastic about it.
This guy.
“How Ezra put a collar around Ha—” I clear my throat. “Some girl’s neck, dragged her onto the DJ stand, and made her eat dog food in front of everybody?”
Thatcher takes his notebook out again and flips it open without breaking eye contact. “This girl have a name?”
He licks the tip of his pencil as he waits.
“Yeah, uh…I think her name’s Haven.”
“Youthink?”
