Page 14 of Rules

She comes from a different environment than I do. A stable, whole family who loves and cares for each other. And no matter how much she tries to understand, no matter how much she tries to pull me in, guard me from my own life, guard me from myself, she can’t. Because I’m too far gone for that.

So, like always, I do the only thing I know how so that she’s protected and doesn’t worry because that’s the last thing I want—I lie.

“Of course.”

Lia stares at me, taking in my face as she weighs my words. It’s something I’ve noticed her doing more and more lately. It’s as if she knows. Knows I’m lying to her, yet she never calls me on it. I think on some level she understands. Understands my need to have our friendship separated from everything else. The last thread of hope and goodness I cling to, so she lets me.

“Hey, Freckles. What’s up?”

His words snap me out of our staring contest. I pick up my book, burrowing my nose between the pages, but I don’t read a word. From the corner of my eye, I can see him near. Max stops by her table, smiling down at her as they talk.

He pulls the tip of her braid, a move that could be considered brotherly if it wasn’t for the tenderness etched on his face.

He looks at her the same way he did that first day of school. Lia’s car broke down, and he was the one who stopped to help her and eventually brought her to school. I knew she’d be late. We were talking on the phone when it happened, so when the door opened mid-homeroom, I lifted my gaze expecting to see my best friend. What a mistake that had been. Because there he was, the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen in my life. Tall and dressed in all black, his dark hair messy. His deep laughter filled the room, making the fine hairs at the nape of my neck rise, making my heart beat faster. He smiled, light, gentle eyes looking down at somebody.

Looking at her, my best friend.

“Hey, Brook.” His deep voice brings me out of my stroll down memory lane. His fingers brush the edge of my desk, drawing my attention. Slowly, I lift my gaze from the book because what else is there to do? He’s standing there. Waiting. And it doesn’t seem like he’ll leave me alone anytime soon.

I’ve been trying to avoid him since leaving the library. Even went as far as to close myself in the art room during the lunch break just so I wouldn’t have to be with him.

With any of them.

“You disappeared so suddenly earlier I didn’t get a chance…” He stops for a heartbeat, those piercing, silver eyes staring into mine. “Thank you. For the help today. I really appreciate it.”

I can feel Lia’s curious eyes on me. On us. Darting between Max and me like she’s watching a tennis match. Trying to figure out what the hell Max is talking about.

Shutting her out, shutting thembothout, I open my book again.

“No thanks needed.”

He stands there for a little while longer, but when he realizes the only thing he’ll get is silence, he gives up and goes to his seat, giving me exactly what I wanted.

So why do I feel so empty then?

Chapter Six

BROOK

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I lift my head, startled by her raspy voice. I didn’t think she was home. If I’d known, I probably would have grabbed my shit and snuck out as quietly as possible. The last thing I wanted to do was cross paths with my mother.

Especially when she was in one of her moods. Which she was since she lost both her job and boyfriend not that long ago. That’s what happens when your boyfriend is your boss and you catch him fucking his new side piece in the office. Again, nothing new. She and Bob have been doing this for the last three years. I don’t know why they bother when it’s always the same. He fucks on the side, she finds out, makes a scene, he fires her, she closes herself in the house drinking and getting high more than she usually does, until he comes crawling back and begging for forgiveness. Then all is fine for a while until the same old circle begins again.

Some people have been self-destructive for so long, it’s become a part of who they are. Josephine Taylor is no exception.

Her small body is hunched on the ugly brown sofa that has so many holes one of these days somebody will sit down, only to fall to the floor. She grips the bottle in her hand and takes a long pull. Judging by the clear liquid, it’s vodka, her drink of choice. Her dark hair streaked with grays is greasy from days of not washing it, her make-up smudged underneath her eyes. She looks a mess, but it’s not like that’s something particularly strange or new.

“Out,” I say curtly, slipping my sneakers on my feet.

“What about all this mess?” She looks around the room, taking everything in. “You can’t go!”

The living room is a pigsty. Dirty dishes and bottles are everywhere. Full ashtrays and crumbled wrappers from McDonald’s are scattered all over the small coffee table and old carpet floor. But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is the smell. She closed all the windows and blinds four days ago and hasn’t opened them since. The smell of cigarettes, leftover food, and stale human sweat makes it impossible to breathe inside.

Irritated by her stupid-ass comment, I put on my leather jacket and pull the zipper before I turn to look at her again. Even from across the room and with her sitting illuminated only by the light of the old metal box that’s supposed to be a TV, I can see her dark eyes glistering. She’s drunk. Again. Probably high too judging by the faint sweet smell of marijuana still lingering in the air.

My heart squeezes painfully, but I push it away like I always do. I know who she is. I know she won’t ever change, yet still… The little girl I assumed died long ago resurfaces from her hiding place somewhere deep down inside of my heart. A little girl who wants her mother’s love. And every time I see her like this, that tiny part of me I didn’t even know still exists dies all over again.

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