Page 43 of Revenge At Raleigh High
“Alex has been through hell and back. His actions in the past might not be commendable, but I would have behaved and acted out far worse than he did if I’d found myself in his shoes.”
“Cameron, he dug up aparole officerand urinated on his cadaver. That’s not just an infringement upon the law. It’s mentally—”
“He also defended this school against a very dangerous, very real threat recently, too. Have you forgotten that? And theparole officerAlex dug up had beaten him black and blue for years. He was a sick piece of shit that got off on hurting young boys. I’m glad Alex dug him up. If I’d have been there, I probably would have dropped my pants and taken a shit on the bastard right next to him.”
Principal Darhower recoils, his mouth falling open.
“You’re a fifty-year-old bachelor with no kids of your own, Jim. You think sitting in your office back there, day in and day out, somehow makes you an authority on what it’s like to raise kids but you have absolutely no fucking idea. So how ’boutyoudon’t interfere in mattersyoudon’t understand. Come on, Silver. Let’s get you out of here.”
I’ve never wanted to high five anyone so badly. No adult has ever stood up for me like that before. Cameron Parisi is a fuckingbadass. He shoots me a dry, sidelong look as he takes hold of Silver’s hand and begins leading her toward the exit. “Come by the house when you’re let out,” he tells me quietly. “It’s pizza night.”
“You got it.”
Silver pulls away from him quickly, turning back to me. She falls into my arms, hugging me tightly and pressing her mouth to my ear. “I love you. Just…don’t freak out, okay?”
It’s only when she and Cam have exited through the double doors that lead out to Raleigh High’s parking lot that I realize I’m standing in the hallway, not only Principal Darhower, but also with Zander Hawkin’s prep boy alter ego. Darhower seems to snap out of his troubled reverie at the same time. He bares his teeth at me, grimacing, like I’m nothing more than a bad taste in his mouth. The feeling is fucking mutual.
He spins on the balls of his feet like some sort of Nazi general and quick-steps back down the hall toward his office, leaving me alone with Zander.
“I’m guessing that was our supreme leader,” he says mildly. “Can’t say I likedhimvery much. Let me know if you wanna break into his house and fuck him up while he’s sleeping. I amsohere for that.”
17
ALEX
I was already planning on trying to kidnap Silver for a date tonight, but Cam’s invitation/order to come over for pizza has made things much easier. He answers the door, still wearing that dark fury on his face—a fury I recognize all too well. It’s the kind of pervasive anger that soaks down into the roots of your soul. It’s the kind of anger that will set everything to rot if you leave it unattended. “In the kitchen,” he says stiffly, turning away from the door and disappearing into the house. “Silver’s asleep. I don’t want to wake her up just yet.”
I point my thumb over my shoulder. “Should I come back later?”
“No. I wanna talk to you.”
Uh oh.I wanna talk to you.That doesn’t sound good. Was I too quick to assume Cam was defending me back at Raleigh? He could have just wanted to stick one to Darhower. I might be about to get the I-don’t-want-you-hanging-around-my-daughter-anymore talk. That would be a little out of the blue considering how cool he’s been with me, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Darhower’s snide remarks might have made him think twice about how liberal he’s being where I’m concerned.
The kitchen smells like melting cheese and pepperoni. My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten all day. I assume Cam must be keeping some take-out pizza warm in the oven, but then I see the flour on the marble kitchen island and the small dishes of toppings in bowls set to one side, and I realize that he’s actuallymakingthe pizza.
“Don’t look so surprised. I’ve been pretty slack about immersing Silver in her Italian roots, I know. And my mother might not have taught me the language, but she did teach me the food. Come on. Come and make yourself something.”
I hesitate.
The last time I made pizza, I was a child. I was with my mother. She was still alive, and my father was gone, but everything was stillnormal. Everything was still as it was supposed to be. Most of my happiest childhood memories revolve around standing on a stool in the kitchen with my mother, when she was in one of her calmer phases and she wanted to bake and cook.
“Don’t you like pizza?” Cam asks bluntly.
“Yeah, of course.”
Good job,Passerotto. Now knead the dough. Like this. Dig your knuckles in. Yes, that’s it. Now stretch it out. Ben fatto, amore mio!
Since the shooting, I haven’t heard my mother’s voice very often. It’s like a swift kick to the gut now, remembering her laughter as I tried to tease and shape my own pizza base in our small kitchen when I was a kid. I walk over to the sink behind Cam and wash my hands, then roll my shirt sleeves up to my elbows, taking up a spot at the island opposite Silver’s dad. He jerks his chin toward a covered ceramic bowl as he sprinkles cheese liberally over the pizza he was nearly finished making before I knocked at the front door. Inside the bowl: a large wad of dough. The smell of proving yeast hits the back of my nose as I rip off a handful and slap it down onto the marble, beginning to knead it with my hands. Turns out this rote motion is something you don’t forget.
For a minute, Cam and I work in silence. Eventually he’s happy with his pie, and he goes to place it in the oven with one that’s already cooking. When he returns, he cracks open a bottle of beer and plants it down in front of me. “I’m going to hurt someone,” he says firmly. “And I need you to tell mewhoI need to hurt.”
Oh shit.
This is a test.
The beerandthe statement.
Fuck it.
