Page 22 of Riot Rules
“It has.”
“And do you feel better? Now that you know I didn’t have my cock in another woman right before I had my tongue inyourmouth?”
“No, actually. Idon’tfeel better.”
“Why?”
“Because the thought of any of you pricks screwing with some Edmondson soccer mom is so pathetic and vile that it makes me want to puke.”
“She was an Edmondson lacrosse mom. That kid was on thelacrosseteam.”
Oh my god. That’s it. I’ve wasted enough of my breath here as it is. I’m not going to waste anymore. My legs are stiff when I get to my feet. My bag’s covered in mud, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Whatever, dude. Enjoy drinking yourself into oblivion before fucking midday, okay? Some of us care about our education here. I have to get to class.”
As if he forgot all about his hip flask, Dash takes it out, smiling. He holds it up and winks at me. “Cheers, love. Don’t mind if I do.”
“Dude, seriously. What the hell are you doing? Does it make you feel good, getting absolutely wrecked in the middle of the—”
“Yes,” he clips out. “It makes me feel fucking fantastic. And not that it matters, but I’m not wrecked. I’m not some prissy little high school girl who can’t handle her liquor. I could drink from now until sundown and be perfectly fucking fine.”
“Ooooh.” I roll my eyes. “I’msoimpressed. I bet you pop pills like they’re candy, don’t you, big man?”
He doesn’t react to my goading. Just nods. “Pills. Speed. Coke. You name it. I partake on a regular basis.”
“Oh. Right. Sure. I suppose you’re shooting up heroin on a regular basis, too, right?” I’m being sarcastic, but a part of me is still as a corpse, numb, dreading his response. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“If it feels good and reduces all of this bullshit to white noise then I’m in, princess.”
Wow.
And just like that, any sense of conflict I might have been having over him melts like frost thawing at dawn. Only much, much quicker. If there’s one thing that will turn me off quicker than a bucket of ice-cold water over my head, it’s a half-baked heroin addiction. “You’re serious? Heroin?”
“No need to look so stunned, Mendoza. It’s not that big a deal.”
“God, you…” I shake my head. “You’re fucking pathetic, Dash. You know that? Fuckingstupid, too. You don’t need to worry about ignoring me in class anymore. I won’t be bothering you again.”
I’m sick to my stomach. I honestly, truly feel like I’m about to throw up. I wonder if he can feel the contempt radiating off me as I walk away. I don’t think he cares very much. He’s unaffected by anything, impervious to his surroundings. Meteors could be raining down from the sky and the world could be on fire, and Dash wouldn’t deign to notice so long as he was rocking a decent buzz. At the top of the hill, I look back down the slope at him. A moment of weakness, but I allow it. This is officially the last time I’ll be swooning over Lord Dashiell Lovett IV. He’s still standing there, staring at the headstones, sipping from his hip flask. Too late, it occurs to me that I didn’t ask him why he came to the cemetery. Somethinghadupset him.
I’ll never know what put him in such a shitty mood. One thing I do know is this: if he tamps that shit down and keeps it bottled up inside him for any length of time, it’ll eventually want out. Emotions like that have a way of biting you in the ass when you don’t release them. I should know. Of course, none of that will matter when he dies with a needle hanging out of his arm. And he will, because that’s how most stories that feature heroin end.
I turn to the north, about to head back up the slope to the academy, when something fleetfooted and grey snags my attention—a blur of movement and dusky color out of the corner of my eye. I turn back, and…wait. There. I see them. At first, I think they’re a pack of dogs. Wild dogs, perhaps. But then I see their size, and their lupine grace, and I recognize them for what they are: they’re wolves. There are five of them, dark smudgy shadows flitting in and out of the trees, along the border of the forest where the academy grounds end and the wilderness begins.
They don’t stop. Don’t look up the grassy slope to the building, or at the old, ruined chapel, where a boy with bright blond hair is also watching their passage down the mountain. They fly, eerily silent, running as one, and I’m startled by the unexpected ache of longing that hits me. Something like this shouldn’t be witnessed alone. It’s the kind of secret, special thing that needs to be shared…
…and I don’t want to share it withhim.
11
CARRIE
SIX YEARS AGO
I know it’s heroin.
I’m not sure how I know, but I do. I’ve never seen it before, never witnessed anyone shooting up before, so I’m both fascinated and terrified as the men in the living room start burning the powder in the spoons from Mimi’s silver wedding service set. Once the powder’s turned to liquid and looks like bubbling tar, they pull the burnt brown liquid into an array of dirty needles.
The first guy’s features go slack as he dumps the drug into the crook of his arm. Another of Jason’s friends takes the piece of rubber hosing the first guy used a tourniquet from his arm and cinches it tight around his own bicep, then pricks himself and depresses the plunger on his needle, emptying it into his veins. One by one, Jason’s friends all administer their poison, each of them slouching into twilight consciousness on the sofa, slack smiles spreading across their faces until there’s only Jason and Kevin left.
Kevin is the one who brought the heroin.
