"I was at Jackson's. He got pastries. Want one?" I hold the box out to her.
"No, thank you." Her brows draw together. "Why are you still with that boy? He's trouble. He killed a girl."
"Jackson didn't. Someone else did. I just need to find out who." I go past her into the house. Normally her comment would make me mad but today I'm in a surprisingly good mood, probably because I had a whole night with Jackson. I'm sure something will happen to spoil my mood, but for now I'm going to enjoy this feeling.
A half hour later, I'm fixing my hair when I hear banging on my door. I check the clock.
"Right on time," I say to myself. "I'm coming!" I yell at Trystan.
"Too late! I'm leaving!"
We play this game every day. It's become our thing. He bangs on my door, I tell him I'm coming, and he threatens to leave without me. So far he hasn't. I'm sure one of these days he will.
I meet up with him in the car, barely getting my door closed before he speeds off.
"One second later I would've been gone," he says, whipping around the corner.
"I had to make sure my hair was pretty," I say with sarcasm as I run my hand over my long dark strands. "I need to make a grand entrance after my performance yesterday."
"I can't believe you fucking did that," he says, holding back a smile. "Good thing you weren't home last night. Braden would've killed you."
"Is he still mad?"
"I think he's over it. His head is on Friday's game. He's afraid we might lose because Kade is out."
"Kade's not playing? What happened?"
"He was being an idiot at practice and tripped going down the bleachers. Busted his ankle. He's on crutches. This game was already going to be a tough win but now it's going to be even harder. It'll be up to Braden to win it."
Maybe they'll lose. I'd love it if they did.
"So what'd you think of what I did yesterday?" I ask.
"I think it was social suicide but as long as it doesn't affect me, I don't give a shit."
"Did it? Affect you?"
"Not at all. People thought you were joking. One guy asked me if you and Braden planned it."
"Why would we plan that?"
"I don't know. I'm just saying people didn't think it was real." He turns so fast it squeals the tires. "So you're living with a killer now?"
"Yeah. So are you."
He looks at me. "I'm talking about Jackson. I saw you going over there last night."
"Jackson didn't do it. He didn't kill Kristen. Or Andrea. But I'm not so sure about your brother."
I wait for him to slam on the brakes and yell at me, telling me how great and wonderful Braden is, like he always does, but he doesn't. He just keeps driving.
"You going to the gym after school?" I ask, changing the subject.
"The fucker held a gun on me. Can you believe that?"
"Who are you talking about?"
"Braden. You were there. You saw him do it."
