Page 14

The sun is penetrating as I round the track and focus on my breath, ignoring the fact that he is ruining my song. What Coach doesn’t understand is that running me into oblivion isn’t punishment.

Running is my muse.

The guitar solo cuts in right as I round the track, the wailing notes rippling through my mind like a maelstrom. I’ve been writing this song in my head all year, playing my actual guitar every chance I get so I don’t forget it. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane. Especially since I’m failing math and won’t be able to graduate if I don’t pass it. I should study but I can’t ask for help from anyone. Landry’s don’t ask for help, as my old man would say.

Remy passes me on my left, the pounding of his feet ruining my song. So, I kick it into high gear, all brute and muscle bursting down the last hundred meters. I only ever beat him by a split second, and one day he will win, but today’s not that day.

When I pass the finish line, I place my hands around the back of my head to catch my breath and walk in circles, staring at him.

“Next time I beat you, maybe you’ll finally let me fuck your sister,” I taunt him. I’m angry about everything, too. So, screw him. “When does she get back?”

He smirks but shakes his head, not engaging in my attempts at baiting him. “Bite me,” he fires back as he walks toward the school. I’m sick of his salty attitude. If he only knew how close I was to getting in there before she went away. Daniel Jenkins was her boyfriend, but barely. I saw the way she looked at me. Her old man sent her away to grieve away from the gossipy town when he died, but she will be home soon and will need a shoulder to cry on.

I shake my head, shrug, and walk over to the bench to get some water. Bax is there, waiting for me so we can go grab lunch. At least one of my friends still likes me, I guess.

My attention spans to the strange girl with white hair walking by. Her head is low, a coat pulled up over her face. She’s dressed like my grandma going to church on Sunday. She started here on Monday and came out of nowhere.

I jerk my head in her direction, keeping my eyes on her. “What’s that chick’s story, anyway?” I ask Bax.

Bax follows my gaze. She’s doing her best to stay out of sight, but I’m pretty sure she has everyone’s attention before she disappears behind the bleachers. Everyone is talking about her, how she’s a bad omen.

I can’t seem to get a good look at her. Every time we’ve made eye contact in class, she averts her gaze. She hides under her clothes, her face is always low, her eyes hooded.

Despite being super weird, she’s really pretty—although I won’t admit that to anyone. But Remy was clearly looking in class the other day, too.

Bax shrugs, looking disinterested. “I dunno, man. She moved into the old Sheffield place in the sticks.”

Wait…the Sheffield house?

“I thought that place was condemned?”

“That’s where she lives, apparently. Don’t know much else, other than she moved here with her mom.”

That place is not anywhere I’d want to live—especially not with what happened there. Bax, Remy and I went there once on a dare. The last time I checked, all the windows were boarded up. Some crazy hillbilly in the 50s killed his wife and daughter, then killed himself. They say old farmer Sheffield possesses anyone who sleeps there.

We barely made it an hour before we high-tailed the fuck outta there after hearing voices, and Bax swore up and down he saw a teenage girl in a white nightgown. And this chick has slept there for over a week and still managed to ace calculus?

“Do you think she knows what happened in that house?

“Doubt it,” Bax says as he pulls out a joint, about to make some sort of joke before his eyes widen and he hides the joint in his pocket. “Oh shit.”

Coach is coming straight at us, and he looks pissed.

“Hide the fucking joint, you clown,” I gripe at him. “You’re going to get us expelled.”

“Tommy,” he barks, stomping over to us. “I need you to run two extra miles today, son.”

I lurch to my feet. “What? Why?”

“Because I told you to, that’s why.”

I curl my mouth. “No way. The rest of the team doesn’t have to.”

Coach pauses, then softens and runs his hand through his hair. “Your old man told me you have to run another two miles.”

“What the hell, Coach?”

“Don’t mess with me, boy, just do it.” He’s essentially saying, Don’t make me mess with your father. We may not be the Vital family, but as the mayor of Kinsmen, my father has influence.