Blink.
I close my eyes again, but there’s nothing there. Just darkness, Esteban’s lifeless body in my arms, the sticky blood surrounding me, and Efren’s dark eyes staring down at me.
Chapter 1
Alma
PAST
Freshman Year
Before Esteban’s Death
Alma
Are you coming to school today?
Esteban
Sorry babe, not feeling well
Alma
Okay. Feel better soon
For the last month, it’s felt like Esteban has been pulling away from me. We’ve been fighting more, mostly over sex and what I’m willing to give him. I don’t mind exploring sexually with him. To be honest, I’m curious myself, but I’m not fully prepared to give him my virginity. I’ve found other ways to keep him satisfied, but I know it won’t be enough.
In my sixteen years of life, Missy and I have moved overtwenty times. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to even figure out who I am. But now that Missy is gone, there will be no more moving. There will be no more long car rides, randomly picking towns on a map and starting over again. I’m so tired of starting over. Tired of always watching life slip away behind me through a rearview mirror.
This is my chance to finally set my feet somewhere permanently. Esteban is stability. The key to me getting out from under Nan’s thumb. I can’t let him go.
Mr. Edwards continues his lecture on atoms—whatever the hell those are—and their basic structure. Turning to check the clock, I catch sight of Efren two seats behind me.
He looks right at me, his rich brown eyes a reflection of the dark aura surrounding him. He’s dressed in his usual attire—tan dickie pants with a crease down the front, a clean white shirt that fits tightly around his muscular arms, and his hair styled back perfectly. My skin prickles as he suffocates me with his gaze. And yet I can’t stop looking at him, curious about the mystery hidden behind his eyes.
He was so different from his brother. Everyone at Fremont High knows who Esteban Nevarez is, captain of the football team, life of the party—the golden boy. Efren is quiet—the slithering like a snake hiding in the grass, waiting to attack–kind of quiet. It’s frightening and thrilling all at once. He’s broody in a way that still catches the attention of most of the female population. Rumors about his darker taste in sex only fuel their desire to get close to him. Whispers of threesomes and orgies. My cheeks grow hot at the thought.
I turn back quickly, guilt settling in the pit of my stomach over the images my mind creates. My body throbs in the most intimate parts of me at the thought of Efren being pleasured by multiple women.
He’s your boyfriend’s brother, Alma.
The thought pulls me out of my fantasy. It’s wrong. Any thoughts I have of him are wrong. He’s Esteban’s younger brother. I push back any thoughts trying to emerge about Efren and focus back on the letter in front of me.
Esteban,
I’ve been thinking about what happened the other night, and I feel awful. I know I said I was ready, but I got nervous. Please give me the chance to make it up to you.
Xoxo,
Alma.
Tearing the letter out from my notebook, I fold it three times and place it into a small pink envelope. Missy always said men would never love me if I wasn’t willing to be exactly who they wanted me to be. I’m not sure if this is who I want to be, but I fear the thought of being alone forever.
When I hear the bell ring, I take the note and follow after Efren. His strides are long, making it difficult to keep up. I zigzag through the crowds forming, the loud hallways exploding with laughter, lockers slamming, and sneakers squeaking. He’s standing by his locker. A few guys surround him, and a blonde begs for his attention. I recognize her immediately, Naomi Miller. The bitch who pointed out in gym class that I wore granny panties on my first day. This dubbed me the weird new girl once again. I was used to this. Every town we moved to, and every school I enrolled in, there were always mean girls waiting to devour me. A reason why I preferred people in books.
When Efren sees me approaching, his eyes lock back on mine with that familiar intensity, peering through me andstripping me bare before him. Can he see my façade? My pathetic need to be relevant to someone? To be loved?
Knots form in my belly, but my feet aren’t hindered. Even as the alarm goes off in my mind, warning me.
