Page 54 of The Cruelest Chaos
She laughs at that, folding up the paper and putting it in her back pocket.
“But hopefully you can make it to the mailbox.”
She offers me a small smile. It’s silly, writing letters this way, but we both like to write, so why not?
When she finally leaves, I find myself thinking of Ella again. I wonder how much longer I’m going to hold onto her. Long enough to make it hurt, I guess.
But not long enough to make it dangerous.
I won’t do that to her. Not ever.
Chapter Eleven
My mom isawake when I let myself inside the trailer without a house key, the lock broken. Her Saturn is in the driveway, the gas light on, and I know she’s going to bitch about it tomorrow morning before she goes wherever the fuck she’s gonna go. She doesn’t care I’ve been out all afternoon applying for jobs since I finally got to use her car. She’s just pissed I’ve used it two days in a row. Yesterday, for The Ark, and today to try and put fucking money into our hands.
Two full days since I’ve seen Maverick, after I asked him to drop me off at my house on Monday, so I didn’t miss The Ark. He hasn’t come by. Hasn’t called.
And I can’t stop fucking thinking about him.
“You’re late.”
My eyes catch my mom’s as she sits on the threadbare couch, legs crossed, frail arms wrapped around herself. Her red curls are short, wild around her pale face. She has circles that look like bruises under her eyes—they might actuallybebruises, because who knows where she’s been the past few weeks. We haven’t seen much of each other.
“You’re late, and we need to talk.”
I close the door behind me, darting a glance down the short hallway toward my room. I could run inside. Slam the door. Lock it. Put on my headphones, scream at her to fuck off.
I feel the weight of my phone in the back pocket of my jeans.
I could call Maverick.
I could call Maverick.
I think about it. For five whole seconds, I consider doing just that. He would come, I think. But we aren’t friends. We’re not dating, despite what he might’ve said to my mom’s latest fuck to piss him off. We’re fuck buddies. He’s so angry about the world, about things he refuses to talk about, and I’m starving for attention. He gives it so well.
Most of it is painful and bruising andbad, but it’s attention. And sometimes…sometimes he’s sweet.
But even still…he might not come. He might be with another girl right now. Might be with his friends. He’s probably got something to do on Wednesday nights, unlike me.
Then again…he’s the reason my fridge is stocked. Do all boys buy the girls they’re fucking groceries? Shane did, until he…disappeared.
I lean against the front door, tighten my grip around the keys to the car in my hand. I don’t say a word as I stare at my mom.
She looks far older than her thirty-five. The pinched look of her face, her baggy pajama pants, big, white t-shirt.
She runs the back of her hand over her nose and snivels. “Where did that food come from?”
I know she’s been eating it.
I’ve been walking as far as I can to get a job anywhere within a five-mile radius of this place. I’ve applied at a gas station. A mom-and-pop cheeseburger joint. I even went into a rundown tavern with a door that barely stays on its hinges.
The owner offered me a job as he stared at my tits.
I’m still considering taking it.
When I come back from all of that, some of the food is always gone, a mess on the floor that I sweep up.
But my stomach doesn’t growl anymore. She’s not screaming at me for it anymore.
