Page 52 of Reckless At Raleigh High
Damn.
This isn’t about Silver and me. Scratch that. I suppose itisabout us…but it’s more about Cam. He married Silver’s mom right out of high school. They were kids themselves when they had Silver. He told me himself, back when I lived in the trailer, that he’d packed his bags and nearly moved across the country the very same day she was born. But he’d stayed in the end. They’d been happy. And after it all, Silver’s mom had destroyed their marriage by sleeping with another man. She’d grown bored of her safe, comfortable, predictable life and she’d done something that had hurt Cameron in the worst way possible. From his point of view, it’s happening all over again, only this time it’s Silver giving up her freedom too soon and too young. It’s Silver who’ll be hurt down the line when I grow frustrated with our safe, comfortable, predictable life, and now he can’t bear to watch.
So, he did something about it instead. He got me in his car, punched me in the face, and now he’s holding me hostage at the school for some reason. “Cam. Come on. I’m not going to do that to Silver. Ever.”
“You’reseventeen, Alex. You don’t know what you’re going to do next year, let alone in twenty.”
Fuck him for that. I don’t like hearing the accusation or the condemnation in his voice but losing it at him isn’t going to prove anything. Instead, I manage to keep a cool head. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’m going to do next year. I don’t know if I’ll go to college, or if I’m gonna get a job, or…I don’t know. But what I’m certain of is Silver. If she goes off to Dartmouth, I’ll be sitting in the car right next to her with all my shit packed up, too. She wants to disappear off into the Amazon? I’ll take my malaria pills like a good boy and make sure she doesn’t get eaten. And, shit. If she decides she wants to be a fucking astronaut and go into space, I’ll figure that out too somehow. Whatever direction she decides to head in, and for as long as shewantsme by her side, I will be there, taking every step with her. And our life won’t be safe, or comfortable anyway. She’s full of music, and laughter, and light, Cam. How can anything ever be predictable with Silver around?”
Inside the school, a light goes on in the main hallway. Cameron clenches the van keys in his fist, loosening his grip and then tightening it again. We both sit for a while, staring at the rectangle of light coming from inside the school, cutting through the dark, and I wait for him to say something.
It takes a long,longtime.
Finally, he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls something out. He turns it over in his hands—the small maroon box with the gold fleur-de-lis embossed in gold on the top—and then puffs out his cheeks, slapping it into my chest.
“What’s this?” I ask even though I know precisely what it is; the box feels like a burning hot coal in my hands.
“It was my grandmother’s.”
“I can afford to get her a ring, y’know. I have plenty—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you do,” Cam interjects grumpily. “But this was supposed to go to Silver when she got engaged. It’s special. During the war, my grandfather helped to pass messages through the Dolomites to the allied forces. He bought that ring in Switzerland and he carried it with him for three years until he could get back to my grandmother. It has a good story. There’s a happy ending attached to it. It’s the kind of ring that should be worn. Better than some soulless new piece of jewelry from Zales.”
“I have better taste thanZales.” It’s offensive that he’d even suggest such a thing. I may be a guy, and I may have neck tattoos and look like I could give a shit about women’s jewelry, but I’d never walk into a chain store and buy a generic ring for the woman I wanted to marry. I would have bought Silver something that reflected her—something unique and one-of-a-kind.
When I open the box that Cameron thrust at me, the ring inside is exactly that. The stone isn’t a diamond. It’s a blushed color of pink, clear and bright, and it catches what little light there is in the van, refracting it beautifully. The design isn’t as traditional as I thought it was going to be. It’s feminine and truly special, but… “The setting’s silver?”
Cam grunts. “There was a war on. Precious metals and stones were rationed just like everything else. Even in Switzerland. My mother asked if she could get it remounted for my grandmother back in the seventies, but that idea went down like the Hindenburg. My grandmother turned to her and said…” Cam turns to me, echoing the woman’s words, “Thisis the ring I said yes to. I wouldn’t change it for the world. As far as I’m concerned,silver is far more precious than gold.”
Huh. Too apt to be a coincidence. Silver’s an uncommon name for a person. I get the feeling that a little piece of her great-grandmother’s story was passed down to Cam’s daughter when she was gifted with that name. I nod, snapping the box closed. Silverisfar more precious than gold.
“You’re not going to try and stop us, then?” It could be the recent head injury, but I’m completely confused.
Cam laughs down his nose—one doleful, resigned huff of breath. “You’re never gonna hurt her. You’re never gonna cause her pain. Not even for a minute.”
These are statements, not questions. Still, I respond as though they are. “I’d rather fucking die.”
“Then, no. I’m not gonna try and stop you. What would be the point? It’s too late for any of that. I swore I’d always give Silver the life she wanted, and she’s made her decision. She’s chosen a life with you. And at the end of the day…a song can’t be unsung, can it, Alessandro?”
I grimace down at the box, a little twisted up inside over the sound of that name coming out of his mouth. He’s done it to rile me up a little. He knows only Silver can call me Aless—
“Alex.”
“It’s fine. I don’t care. You can call me whatever you—”
“No,Alex!” He hits me in the top of my arm, and a low growl builds deep in the barrel of my chest.
“I swear, man. That was your last free shot. If you hit me again, I’m gonna fucking—”
He grabs me by the arm and shakes me. “Shut the fuck up.Look!”
Shocked by the urgency of his tone, I look up as commanded, following his wide-eyed gaze out of the windshield, back toward the school. The light’s still on in the hall like it was before, but…now there are three people standing on the steps that lead up to the main entrance—the figures of three men.
I lean forward, squinting into the dark. The identities of the three men become apparent all at once, and a cold, vile sensation descends on me. “What in holy fucking shit isthis?Can I borrow your glasses?”
A deep, throaty rumble fills the car; in the driver’s seat, Cameron growls like a feral dog that’s just cornered in a cage. “They’re broken,” he replies. “They have to be. Because I cannotbe seeing this right. That’s Principal Darhower. And that motherfucker from the DEA. And that—” Cam says, choking on the words, “Is someone who shouldnotbe breathing free fucking air.”
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