Page 47 of Revenge At Raleigh High
She wants me to get a new place? I laugh quietly at the impossibility of such a suggestion. “D’you know how hard it is to find a reasonably priced two-bedroom apartment in Raleigh, Maeve? They don’t exist. You’re either looking at a five bedroomed mansion, or a rat-infested studio apartment overlooking a dumpster lined alleyway behind a bar.”
She stands in the doorway with the door cracked; a rush of freezing cold air blasts the side of the trailer and comes charging in like an uninvited guest. Maeve’s teeth are chattering together when she says, “Really? ’Cause I seem to recall seeing a pretty perfect spot advertised in the window of the hardware store this morning when I dropped by. The apartmentabovethe actual hardware store, I believe. And the rent was pretty reasonable. Only nine hundred, including utilities.”
She’s got to know about my little sideline with Monty. She’d hardly be saying nine hundred bucks a month is reasonable amount of money to spend on rent to a teenager with a part time job if she wasn’t. “If you’ve got some money set aside, I’d recommend calling in there and putting a deposit down on the place as soon as possible. I doubt it’ll be available for long.”
“And why the hell would they rent the place to me in the first place?” I grumble.
“Because Harry was a friend of my father’s?” Maeve says lightly. “And he’s doing me a favor?” She steps through the doorway and out of the trailer, but she pauses there on the step. “You’ve got one chance at this, Alessandro. Just one. Please don’t fuck it up, or I’m gonna look like a complete moron, okay?”
Begrudgingly, I give her a military salute.
“Oh, god. This reallyisa bad idea, isn’t it? Just get your ass to school, Alex. And don’t let me down.” The trailer almost seems to shrink when Maeve slams the door closed behind her.
19
SILVER
Raleigh’s one of the few schools in the entire state that breaks for a full week over Thanksgiving. There are still three days left before that break begins, though. Dad tells me over breakfast on Wednesday morning that I can stay home if I’m not feeling well, but I decline his invitation to play hooky, determined not to be chased out of school by that evil little limp-dicked prick.
Dad holds a hand to my forehead, miming out the act of taking my temperature. “I don’t know, kiddo. Your head feels weird.”
“I don’t have a temperature, Dad.”
“I didn’t say it felt hot. I saidweird. If you stay home today at least, we can do a drive-by on your mom’s new pad and egg the place. Sounds like fun, no?”
“Dad.”
“What? It’s supposed to rain later on this afternoon. The mess will probably wash away before she even comes home and notices it.”
I give him a wry look as I shove my notepad into my backpack. “Then what would even be the point?”
“Becauseyouwould know that we’d done it. AndIwould know that we’d done it. And it would make me feel good.”
“Didn’t have you pegged as the petty type, Father,” I say teasingly. He hasn’t mentioned Mom much at all lately. He hasn’t seemed angry, either. Not about her, anyway. It’s a little saddening to hear him joke about stuff like this, though. Heisjoking, I can hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes, but there’s always an element of truth to this kind of thing. He’s still hurting, which it totally understandable. They were together for twenty-three years, for crying out loud. That’s a long time to get used to someone always being there, no matter what. A hole the size of the one Mom ripped open in Dad’s life is going to be noticeable, regardless of how mad at her he might be.
With my backpack now hanging from my shoulder, my feet shoved into my shoes, and the keys to the Nova in my hand, I’m just about ready to leave for school. I pause for a beat in the kitchen though, leaning my elbows against the breakfast bar, standing next to Dad as he skims over the morning news on his laptop. “This isn’t a break, is it? Between you and Mom. It’s final. You guys aren’t planning on getting back together, are you?”
Dad slowly closes the laptop, spinning his bar stool around to face me. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I used to think I had everything figured out, but then this happens, and I don’t even know the answers to the simplest questions. I don’t even know what Iwantto happen, kiddo. The only thing I know is that this house feels much bigger than it used to now. And sometimes, I want to drive by your mother’s new pad and egg the place. Beyond that, everything’s far too complicated to even think about.”
So, so depressing.
I leave, wishing I could make everything easier for him. Not just the Mom stuff, but my shit, too. He’d seethed inside Darhower’s office yesterday, when I lied and claimed I’d fallen and hit my head. Fuckingseethed. He’d also been hurt, and I hate that I did that to him. Most of all, I’m sick to death of worrying him all the time.
At school, everyone’s buzzing about me being frog marched to Darhower’s office yesterday, and it quickly becomes clear why: I’m being expelled. I’m being transferred to a military school for girls. I’m sick, and Darhower didn’t want the other students to see me collapsing in the halls; someone caught me laying into the notice board outside the gym with my fists, having some sort of psychotic break. The gossip is rife. No one knows the truth, though.
How would they ever suspect that I would have fought back against Jacob Weaving and actually left a mark? It’s such an unlikely scenario that I don’t blame anyone for overlooking it.
With Alex’s early meeting with his social worker, he couldn’t give me a ride this morning. I’m sorting through the books in my locker, trying to track down my English Lit text book, when I sense the presence on the other side of my locker door. Alex promised to come find me as soon as he arrived at school, so I assume it’s him. Who else would it be? I glance down, prepared to see his white Adidas sneakers on his feet, his ankles casually crossed as he leans against the wall of lockers beside me, waiting for me to close the door and finally look at him. But…the shoes I see there aren’t Alex’s. No way, no how. He might have had a meeting with a social worker this morning, but I know my boyfriend well. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a pair of brown polished leather shoes.Sensibleshoes. And khakis? Absolutely, categorically, no fucking way.
I slam the locked door closed, my hackles up. If someone wants to fuck with me this morning, then they’re really going to wish they hadn’t. However, standing there, waiting politely for me to notice him, is an unfamiliar face. A guy with dark hair, cropped close and swept back in a very clean, almost military cut. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt so well ironed that there isn’t a single wrinkle in sight. The record bag over his shoulder is brown leather to match his shoes. Everything about him looks clean and wholesome. I’m almost surprised there isn’t a little black name tag over his left breast pocket, informing me that he’s a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and would I like to take a moment about of my busy day to talk about our lord and savior?
The guy breaks out into an unnaturally wide smile. “Silver.” He says my name like it’s the answer to a question, though what the question might have been I have no idea. I find out almost immediately, though. “The girl who tamed Alessandro Moretti,” the guy says, tipping his head to one side. “Is Silver your real name, or a nickname?”
I clutch my books tight to my chest. “I’m sorry. You are…? I didn’t realize we had another new student.”
His broad smile transforms, adopting a more sinister edge, at odds with his missionary attire. “If only Raleigh High knew how lucky it was,” he muses. “Alex and myself in the same year? I’m sure things around here are about to get much,muchmore interesting. I’ve already heard Alex got himself shot taking down a gunman in the library. He’s always been a bit of a do-gooder but that really is taking the piss.”
Do-gooder? What person in their right minds would call Alex ado-gooder?“Youknow Alex?”
