PROLOGUE
DANTE
My parents were stone-faced the day I went off to college. At the time I’d assumed it was because they hadn’t thought they’d ever see the day one of their children went to college, let alone on a full ride. Well, mostly a full ride, I still have to figure out a way to pay for books and shit. It can’t be that hard, right? Wrong. Books are five hundred dollars for a general education course. Obviously, I need to start a business producing textbooks because that’s where all the profit is nowadays.
Eastport University is nice for a college that’s been around for like fucking ever. Big brick buildings that dot the downtown of Eastport, spread out so that students can walk if they want, but drive if they want to look rich. Which a lot of people do. It seems the majority of my college peers are rich. Either that or they have a side job producing textbooks.
But I can’t take college for granted because my sister, Ama, had always wanted to go. It had been her dream.I’m going to be a scientist, you just watch, Dante. Something real cool where my name goes down in history because I discoveredsomething no one else has ever found. As soon as I’m done driving you around town, I’m out of here. I can almost still hear her voice, still see the way her dark hair blew in the breeze as we cruised the highway with the windows down. She’d started wearing makeup around that time, cat eyes and dark red lip gloss. My black curls always annoyed me, mostly because Ama had the most beautiful, fine, shiny dark brown hair. Why couldn’t I have hair like my sister? I always just wanted to becoollike Ama.
I kick at the concrete as I continue my way back to the dorms that I have to live in thanks to my scholarship. Yeah, I got a full ride, but it also means I’m in the dorms with a bunch of weirdos that can’t afford off-campus living.
Back in my dorm that I share with this freak that clips his nails twenty-four seven, I go through the mail that I grabbed on my way up. It’s mostly junk, offering me insurance on a car that I don’t have. Seriously, do people fall for this? I guess so. One envelope has my name handwritten in a scrawl that looks decidedly out of place in this century. Tossing myself onto my twin-size bed, I tear it open to find a check for a thousand dollars.
Beat this location at 9 p.m. on September 28th
Fat chance.My obnoxious roommate continues to clip his toenails as I stare blankly down at the invitation that’s probably for something like a fight club. There’s no other reason I’d be invited to some secret club. When I was still a small string bean, I was in the chess club, but that all changed the summer after puberty hit. After my growth spurt in highschool, I’ve felt like a giant walking around. Big and broad, but everyone ignores my brain. Except for the admissions office of Eastport University.
I toss the letter into the trash and get ready for bed. Fuck, I hate living in a dorm. The communal showers are mostly empty this time of night, but it’s still full of steam after so many people showering before catching some Zs. Humming to myself, I haphazardly wash my hair and body, but can’t get the invitation off my mind.
I wonder if the check that was included was real? Maybe I could cash it but just not show up. After all, there were no conditions. No, I can’t do that. That’sstealing. Although, it’s not stealing if there was no contract. Whoever sent it was stupid enough to hand me a check without knowing a thing about me. Hmm.
Dressed in gray sweatpants and an old T-shirt, I return to my room to thankfully find my annoying roommate sound asleep on his own bed. Every time he clips his nails, or eats noisily, or does anything infuriating, this bubble of rage grows inside me to the point I’m afraid I might commit a crime that’ll get me kicked out of school.
I dig the letter out of the trash to read it again. The check is made out to me, from a limited liability company that I’ve never heard of. Grabbing my phone, I search the state business website but there’s nothing registered to the LLC that shows who it might belong to.
I toss it back into the trash. I’m not going to do anything anyway. No point.
I turn over onto my side and stare at the picture of Ama on my side table, the perfect snapshot of who she was back then. If I close my eyes hard enough, the rage inside me goes from boiling to a gentle simmer. Ever since Ama’s accident,I’ve spent every waking moment blaming myself, this rage inside me with no outlet threatening to make me snap at the most inopportune moment. Rubbing at my chest, I wonder if maybe I should join the damn fight club. Maybe punching some people will relieve this constant threat of rage.
Instead of ruminating on all the ways I wish life was different, I close my eyes, and force sleep to come.
The second lettercomes a week later. This time, it’s after a tiring week that makes me question if this college thing really is for me. Yeah, I’m smart, but this shit is annoying. A full load of courses, and now I’ve got a job at this little diner washing dishes. Do I want to be doing that? No. But I need just a little extra cash to pay for all the necessities my scholarship doesn’t cover. Plus, I want some money for some cool tattoos.
My teeth gnash together when my roommate is once again in the room clipping his nails. How many times does one need to clip their nails? I’d rather he just scratched his nails across a chalkboard all night.
This time I recognize the scrawl on the front of the letter. It’s the same as last time.
Please. 9 p.m.September 28th. 478 Southall Rd.
How didthey know I wasn’t planning to come… maybe because I didn’t cash the check? Oh well. This check is for two thousand dollars. I guess for one night, that’s worth it. That would cover me for the rest of the semester so that I could stop working at the diner. Or I could keep going and makeextra,extra money. That wouldn’t be bad. More money for a tattoo sooner.
Clip.
Oh God.
“Can you cut that shit out?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Patton slowly lifts his annoying face to look at me. “Stop what?”
“The nail clipping.”
“I’m on my side of the room.”
I clench my fingers and take a deep, calming breath. “Yes, but could you please do it in the bathroom?”
Patton tilts his infuriating head. “No. I want to do it inhere.”
Fuck. I can’t kill him. Can’t punch him. All the rage inside me starts to boil up until it threatens to spill over. Maybe I need a hookup. But the last one didn’t go too well. I think something is wrong with me. I’m afraid to search it on the internet too because I’m not sure I want to know so much about myself. I can get off but it’s never enough. So, the idea of a hookup right now actually sounds worse than just riding out the annoyance.
