Chapter 13

Ash

“I can’t fucking believe this!” Star says as we near the house. “I mean, who the hell would do that? And why the hell didn’t anyone stop them?” She slams her palms down on the steering wheel so hard that I start to worry she’s going to hurt herself. “What the fuck is wrong with this town?”

“Look,” I say as the car pulls to a stop—a little harder than normal, but I get it, she’s pissed. I am, too. I reach out and grab her wrist gently, pulling her hand away from the wheel before she can attack it again, and before I realize what I’m doing, I have our fingers linked together, and I’m squeezing her hand. I freeze for a second, afraid I’ve crossed a line, but after a beat she’s squeezing back. “They’re assholes. But it’s . . . whatever. It’s fine. I’ll deal. I always do.”

“Fuck,” she mutters, and lets her head fall back against the headrest. Her eyes close and she’s silent for a minute. It should be awkward as hell, but for some reason it’s not. It’s . . . nice.

“It’s okay.” I tell her, even though I have no idea what I’m going to do without my car. It was all I had left, and now it’s busted and broken, and everything I own is covered in little pebbles of glass. The guy from the tow truck had just kind of shaken his head at me when I asked him if he thought it could be salvaged and my shoulders had sagged. His answer had been written all over his face.

Not with your kind of money, it can’t. Fuck.

Star had wanted me to call the cops, get those assholes hauled in, but what was the point? It’s not like I’d be any better off. I’d just draw more attention to myself, and with the way things are going, it’s not like it would do any good. Somehow it’d just get twisted around, be all my fault, and with my luck I’d end up back in prison, having violated some part of my parole. It sucked, but I was dealing with it. In my own screwed-up way.

Which was to say really fucking badly.

I’ve never felt so out of my goddamn depth in my life.

“No. It’s not,” she says, and opens her eyes to look straight at me. I shift in my seat, but I don’t look away. Even though it feels like she’s looking straight down to my damn soul, I don’t look away. If anyone has earned the right to see it, it’s this girl. “It’s not okay. This entire town is just so messed up . . . ” She sighs. “The only good thing that’s happened since I got back is that I met you.” Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her, but her words warm something inside me, something that’s been dead and cold for a long time.

“Come on,” she says, dropping my hand and unbuckling her seat belt. She snags her purse from its home in the space by my feet. “Let’s go inside. The sunlight is killing me.”

A snort escapes me before I can stop it. No wonder she’s pissed. She’s hungover as fuck. I chuckle and try to suppress the smile that’s threatening to break free. Hearing me, she turns and glares, but after a few seconds she cracks and starts smiling. Then we both start laughing.

“Shut up,” she says, reaching over and whapping me gently on the arm before swinging open her door and getting out. “My head’s about to explode.”

Still laughing a little, I unbuckle myself and follow.

We’re halfway up the path when I see it, and a smile spreads across my face. A real one this time. I nudge Star with my elbow.

“Hey,” I say, nodding toward the porch. “It looks like you got another present.”

She turns to me, brow furrowing for an instant, before she turns back to look in the direction I’m jerking my chin toward.

There, on the porch, is another box wrapped in brown paper.

***

“I can’t believe her,” Star says as I drop the box onto the kitchen table. “She must have dropped it off this morning before they left town. I must have missed it when I left to pick you up.” And that doesn’t shock me one bit, the way she’d peeled into the diner’s parking lot with fire in her eyes after I called her. I’m amazed she saw anything but red.

The box itself isn’t that heavy. She could have carried it herself. But really, anything I can do to help out at this point, I’m going to do. Especially since Star ended up having to pay to get my car towed out of the diner’s parking lot. She’d been all apologetic, like somehow this was her fault for not having paid me yet, which is bullshit. Nothing that has happened to me is on her shoulders. Nothing.

She is the one pulling me out of the gutter. I am the one who keeps slipping back down.

“She didn’t have to do this,” Star says, smiling as she fumbles with her keys to find one sharp enough to cut through the tape.

“Somehow, I don’t think Autumn does anything because she has to,” I say, poking her in the side as she cuts open the box. “She just does things for you because she wants to.”

Just like you, I want to say. Because Star sure as hell never had to help me. But she keeps doing it. Over and over again.

Even though I don’t deserve it.

She pulls open the box and starts pulling stuff out. Garbage bags, just like last time. Rolls of twine. More permanent markers, in even more colors. I can’t help but smile at that last one. Autumn must have noticed the “tattoos” Star has been giving herself, the ones I’ve been helping with. So far I’ve added not only the lizard, but a rainbow with music notes and a pretty impressive green dragon, if I do say so myself. It’s a hell of a lot better than the one I have, but then, I’m in a better place now than I was when I got that. Mine is all anger and darkness. The one I drew on Star . . . that one is full of life.

Just like her.

She’s grinning down at the box, and it’s like Christmas all over again with her. Something warm rises up in my chest and I reach over and snag the package of markers off the still-messy table. We haven’t gotten around to clearing it off yet.

I wave them at her. “I think we can figure out something to do with these, don’t you?” I ask, and she nods. But then her smile falters and her eyes widen as she stares into the depths of the box.

“What?” I ask. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” she says, and grabs the box flaps and slaps them closed before I can take a step forward. She seems to realize what she just did an instant later, and her face flushes bright pink. “Sorry,” she mutters, but she doesn’t let go of the box, doesn’t let me see. Instead she reaches out and hefts the box up into her arms and turns around.

“I’m just going to…yeah.” Face still burning, she makes her way over to the former pantry—her new bedroom—carrying the box with her. Before I can ask, she’s already on the other side of the door, and it’s swinging shut behind her.

And I’m left standing there, wondering what the hell just happened.

Star

By the time I finally get to the diner with my computer that evening—Ash stayed back at the house, not wanting to return to the scene of the crime just yet, not that I blamed him—Autumn must have already gotten back to Climbfield or at least stopped somewhere with Wi-Fi. Because when I open my email, there is already a message there waiting for me from Autumn entitled MUAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!

That’s it. Just a subject line. No text or attachments or anything.

That little brat, I think, and open up another message. I quickly type out a subject line and hit Send, feeling victorious for a split second before I realize I have to click through a bunch of confirmations and actually convince the program that yes, I would like to send an email without an actual message. Yes. I’m sure.