Page 12 of Stupid Dirty

“Nah, I don’t hate you. I was just pissed about the race. Never forget, I was raised by drug addicts. Anger is basically my love language.” That makes him laugh, a deep, rich laugh that seems to light him up from the inside, and the fear that’s been clenching my heart relaxes its grip a little.

“Oh.” He smiles, and it looks out of place on his robot face, but in a way that’s kind of endearing.

It’s impossible to tell whether the sudden lurch forward is deliberate, but I find myself with an armful of very sad, very drunk Silas, giving me an awkward approximation of a hug. I hug him back, waiting for some of the stiffness to leave his body, but he hugs like he does everything else: as if he’s following instructions he read in a manual but never practiced before.

Eventually, his weight sags into me.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s get you inside.”

I shrug him off my shoulder, but now he seems about two-thirds on his way to passed out, so I don’t bother waiting for an answer.

Dragging his ass inside gets more difficult with every step, and by the time I’m at the bottom of the stairs I’m thankful that Wish sees me and runs over to help. All everyone else wants to do is stare, apparently.

She’s too short to prop him up completely, but she’s strong as hell, and between the two of us and what remains of his consciousness, we muscle him upstairs and into the spare room that I’m supposed to be sleeping in tonight. I know he’s not my responsibility, but I also know myself. If I shove him in a corner somewhere, I’ll spend the rest of the night worrying about him finding his way back out to that drop.

It’s just easier to keep him where I can watch him. Until he snaps out of this funk.

Thankfully, Wish waits until we’ve got him in bed, lying on his side before she pulls me outside to harangue me with questions.

“Did you poison him? Because I thought you were supposed to be letting go of this stupid feud.”

I’m so drained, I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at her.

“No. Mr. First Place got hammered and wandered into the woods by himself. I brought him back so he wouldn’t die of exposure, come back as a ghost and end up haunting my bike, making me wipe out in races for the rest of my life.”

I shrug like it’s no big deal. Like he didn’t just spill a simmering cauldron of repressed human misery at my feet after flirting with the boundaries of self-destruction. Wish gets to know all ofmysecrets, but I wouldn’t betray someone else’s privacy like that. Even Silas.

“So?” She looks at me expectantly.

“So?”

“So, are you going to tell me what your deal is with him? You’ve been batshit angry at him for no reason all day and now you’re fishing him out of the woods. I don’t get it. Why did you hate him in the first place?”

I shift my weight from side to side, wishing the adrenaline hadn’t burned all the alcohol out of my system and forced me to be mostly sober for this conversation. Admitting insecurities, even to Wish, always feels like I’m inviting someone in to see all my weaknesses and use them against me.

“There’s no big, dramatic story, I swear. He just pisses me off. You didn’t come to the track back then, but he was so fucking stuck up. He always thought he was better than us because he was fucking rich. He bounced straight after every race, like the great Silas Rush was too good to be seen mingling with all the trailer trash.”

I’ve believed this for nearly a decade. But as I say it, something inside of me crumbles with guilt and shame.

I can spend the rest of my life being awkward and friendless at terrifying parties.

Shit.

Maybe he didn’t avoid us because he thought he was better than us, and I’m a presumptuous asshole.

Wish’s voice pulls me out of my epiphany.

“You know he wasn’t actually rich, right? I get that you grew up thinking that everyone who didn’t have to shoplift Wonder Bread was a millionaire, but his family was just as broke and miserable as the rest of us. And I’m pretty sure his dad’s an even bigger asshole than yours. Cut him some slack.”

“I am! Did you not see me carrying him in from the woods, cutting him reels and reels of endless slack? He is currently lying on a bed that I’m supposed to be sleeping in, comfortably swaddled in all the slack that I am giving him.”

She studies me too hard for a minute.

“Okay, good. You know I hate it when you go back to the old ragey Cade. Or, as he’s also known, pre-Wish’s-positive-influence-Cade. I prefer baby bird caretaker Cade.”

“Yeah, well, he could use it.” There are so many thoughts swimming around in my head right now, but none of them are forming into anything coherent. “I don’t know if he’s ever had a real friend, Wish.”

Leaning up on her tiptoes, Wish kisses me on the cheek before she turns to head back down to the party, leaving me with Silas. “Well, it’s a good thing that baby bird caretaker Cade is on the case.”

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