There was no evidence to prove I did it or that I was there, but the rumor still sparked to life regardless. The bullying and smiting got worse after that; people were avoiding me in the town streets and whispering “arsonist” under their breath. None of that really bothered me though, because there was nothing that could be done about it. Stacey didn’t deserve that scrutiny, so I let them believe what they wanted.
I bore the brunt of it for her, and I’d do it again.
When my phone rings and I see who it is, my smile is immediate. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, bud. Just calling to see if we’re still on for lunch.”
My grin widens. My dad is one of my favorite people. We may not share a last name, but we’re as bonded as blood can be. I didn’t know him until I was four years old and he came to get me from the group home I was staying in. Apparently, my mother kept records of my birth father even though she never informed him of my existence. After her death, he was all the family I had, so he popped over the bridge and scooped me up, vowing to take care of me despite us not knowing anything about each other. And it turned out for the best. He never tried to change me; always encouraged me to be as different as I wanted. And it’s thanks to him that I didn’t end up exactly like every other prick in this town.
After the fire, my father shut down anyone who accused me of setting it. He was the voice of reason at the time, and after a while, people started to slow down on demanding consequences. Especially since they had no legal proof that I was even there. The lawyer in my dad couldn’t stand to see the injustice, but it hit even deeper that it wasmehe had to defend, all because I don’t dress or speak the way Greenwood wants me to.
I can stand being in this horrible town because my dad isn’t horrible. Which makes sense; he fell in love with someone from Oakson Lake despite the ridiculous expectations in this town. He’s given me something that I never had before, true stability. So despite the dozens of people here that think I’m a freak and would rather have me gone, they’re shit out of luck. Because wherever my dad goes, so will I.
“Yes, lunch sounds amazing,” I reply.
“Lunch sounds—Are you high?” He laughs, knowing it’s true. “Well, I guess that means you’re going to need a lot of food. Do you want to head over a few towns? I know an amazing Mexican place in Jensen Place.”
“And miss all of the excitement here?” I ask sarcastically.
“We could both use a break,” he agrees with a soft laugh. “I’ll pick you up in ten.”
“Sounds good.” And it does. It really,reallydoes.
NINE
Playing: “In My Room” by Julia Wolf
After everythingthat happened the night before, my body is tense and my mind is confused.
The day should feel tainted by the amount of chaos that ensued, but it doesn’t. Despite everything, despite the arguing with Axl and him beating Will up, and the cops busting the race for the first time in decades, I’m not mortified—though I should be. Anxious that someone will think I snitched about the location. Nervous that the cops will arrest Axl for assault. But I’m not. I feelalive. For the first time in my life, my skin feels a rush, a change of pace from the usual rigid nature of Greenwood.
Yesterday might have been the best day of my life.
I can’t stop thinking about it now as I sit at our dining room table, my fork pushing around the fruit my mother has forced onto my plate. The morning sun flashes through the window, illuminating the white room with a glorious glow. But I know I’m not feeling rejuvenated from the fancy furnished room. I’mfeeling it from the leftover adrenaline still pumping in my veins, the kind that no sort of sleep could have pushed out.
“Did you have a good night with Brent?” my mother asks from across the table, her fork punctured through a tasteless piece of honeydew.
“Yeah,” I say on autopilot, clutching the silver tighter in my fist. “It was nice.”
“Have you thought about what I said? About him popping the question?”
I grit my teeth, willing the conversation to go away, but she looks at me insistently. “No, I haven’t.”
My father looks between us, the newspaper in his hands still as he observes. If his pepper scent wasn’t prominent in the air, I wouldn’t even know he was here at all. He’s not the most forthcoming, and he cares more about his business than being a parent, but he’s nice. He doesn’t care what I do with my life as much as my mother does, which is evident by the way he has nothing to say whenever my mother wants him to scold me for something stupid.
“He’s a good guy. A beta like you should consider it. I think you’d have a good life together. And if you had children, you’d have more chances of having little alphas and omegas.”
I accidentally let a groan escape. “I don’t care about that.”
My mother scoffs. “You should. We all want it for our children, to have the best placement in life. I don’t know how you didn’t turn out an omega like your aunts. Or an alpha like your father.”
“I think you may be projecting there, Mom,” I say with a sneer. “Considering you’re a beta.”
She puts a hand to her chest. “And that’s my point, Stacey. I know how hard it is as a beta, especially in our social circles. You shouldn’t want that for your children.”
“Victoria, please,” my father says, finally cuttinginto the conversation. “We’re trying to have a nice morning as a family, must we push?”
Her mouth gapes open in surprise before she shuts it and raises her chin. “I’m trying to raise our daughter, Alfred. The least you can do is support me.”
