Page 82 of Revenge At Raleigh High
“Still. If you don’t go and see him, you’ll never know what’s going on, will you?” Max says. “And Mrs. Jensen at school says talking is important. She says talking can solve anything, if you put your mind to it.”
I sit very still, mulling the words over. My eleven-year-old brother is smarter than his years. I should go talk to Alex before this drags out any further. School doesn’t start up again until after the new year. Am I going to just let this eat away at me for all that time? To ruin the holidays, not knowing what’s going to happen when I walk back through the entrance of Raleigh High and I see him there for the first time since he came careening into the gym with that giant silver gun in his hand? It’s going to hurt if he confirms my worst fears but slumping into a depression over the Christmas break isn’t fair to my family. Itwillbe better to face the inevitable now, rather than put it off.
I’ve learned my lesson. Finally. From here on out, I am going to face my problems openly, head on. No more hiding, pretending or ignoring. If I’d handled my business like that in the first place, then we likely wouldn’t be in this mess.
Ruffling Max’s hair, I plant a kiss on his cheek. He tries to squirm away from me, groaning loudly about girl germs, but I get him good. “Thanks, little dude. I needed those words of wisdom. Now quit being smarter than me. I’m supposed to be the clever child. You’re supposed to be the cute one.”
* * *
Dad’s hidden the keys to the van. It’s like heknowsme. Clearly, he suspected I’d try and pull some kind of stunt in an attempt to make my way over to Salton Ash, and he prepared accordingly. He finds me rummaging in the drawers of the mail stand in the hallway, once Mom and Max have left. “Don’t bother. They’re not there,” he tells me. “The doc said you’re not allowed to drive while you’re on all these meds. You’re not operating a vehicle any time soon, kiddo.”
I scowl, shoving the drawer closed. “They only say that in case you fall asleep at the wheel or something. I feel fine. Those rules don’t apply.”
“They definitely do. It’s not just the meds, smart ass. They’re worried about you having another seizure and driving off a fucking cliff.”
“I haven’t had a seizure in two weeks.”
Dad leans against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. He’s got that look on his face—the ‘I-ain’t-budging-on-this-one’ face. “Six months. You have your check up, and you get the all-clear. Until then, I’ll happily chauffeur you wherever you wanna go. Within reason,” he adds quickly. “I’m not driving to Bellingham at two in the morning, no matter how many tacos you buy me.”
“Dad. You are not driving me anywhere. I’ll get Ubers if I need to. You’re being crazy, though. I amfine.”
The smug bastard smirks. “Sorry,dolcezza. When you run out of funds for Uber, give me a shout. You know where I’ll be.”
All of the blood drains from my face. “Dad. Donotcall me that.”
“Dolcezza? Why not? I checked up on Moretti and looks like he was telling the truth. It does mean sweetness.”
“I don’t care what it me—” I let out a very frustrated, very horrified breath. “Just…don’t, Dad. Seriously. It’s not appropriate.”
“Iknewit.” Dad flares his nostrils, throwing his hands up in the air. “Iknewthat punk was using the Italian language to seduce you.”
I cringe, hiding behind the curtain of my hair. Well, this is fucking awkward.
“Don’t worry, Sil. I don’t mind driving you over to Salton Ash. I’m gonna be having a few choice words of my own with Alessandro Moretti.”
“No, Dad. God, no. Just…just stay here, all right. I’ll order a car. I swear I won’t try and hot wire the van. I need to see him on my own, okay?”
The fake annoyance on my father’s face slides away, replaced by something else. Something unreadable. Secret. Mercifully, it isn’t pity. I don’t think I could handle him feeling sorry for me right now. “Okay, sweetheart. But…give him a chance to speak before you lay into him. There’s no point tearing him a new one before you’ve even heard what he’s got to say.”
I don’t think my father’s ever been more unlike himself than he is in this moment. There’s no name-calling. No yelling, and no threats to dismember the boy who’s broken my heart. He gives me a casual wink and pushes away from the wall, about-facing and heading into the kitchen.
“Oh, and text me every fifteen minutes to let me know you’re okay,” he calls over his shoulder. “Miss one message, and I will come out and find you. I don’t care how embarrassing it is. You’ve just gotten out of hospital, Silver Parisi.”
Ah.There’smy old man.
* * *
SILVER
The Uber driver chats incessantly on the way over to the trailer park. He doesn’t seem to remember that one night, nearly nine months ago, in the middle of the night, he picked me up from a beautiful house hidden amongst the trees and drove me to a pharmacy, covered in blood. I remember him, though. I remember the worried look on his face when he told me that he had a daughter my age, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t make sure I got home okay.
Raleigh has plenty of Uber drivers, and yet I manage to get the same one twice? Fucking small towns. I stay quiet in the back of the car, watching the snow come down in thick flurries that obscure the view out of the window from time to time. I make the appropriate noises whenever he asks me a question, but mostly I’m trapped inside my own thoughts, worrying about what’s going to happen when I finally arrive at my destination and I come face-to-face with Alex.
The driver gets as close as he can to Alex’s trailer before the snow banks and the iced-up blacktop make it impossible for him to go any further. I get out, mumbling a quiet thank you, and I walk the remaining hundred feet or so down the road, the freezing air prickling at my face and my hands.
My heart’s pounding as I climb the steps to Alex’s door, sorrow pooling in my chest at the sight of the lights blazing inside the trailer. A part of me had hoped there would be no one here. That maybe something had happened, and Alex was held up in custody longer than Mom thought, filling out paperwork, or…or...I don’t know. It gave me hope, thinking that something might be physically preventing Alex from coming to find me, but it’s pretty damn obvious that he’s just been chilling at home, kicking his feet up with a couple of beers or something.
I knock, then immediately wish that I hadn’t. I haven’t thought about what I’m going to say. I need more time to think. To figure out what I’m go—
