Lost Girls(55)

Lauren laughed. “Like your dad’s gonna punish you. He’s never done anything. Not in the whole year you’ve been going to raves and Phase Two.”

I gave her a dirty look. It wasn’t like I wanted to get grounded, but nobody disses my dad. Nobody. “Shut up.”

She raised her hands, palms up, but there was still a smirk on her face. “Blame it on the drugs, girlfriend, but this all seems funny to me right now. You just about got creamed by Komodo, then managed to wipe the stage with her sorry ass, and now you’re pissed because your dad hasn’t been beating you, too? You need to know what it’s been like in some of our homes. We’ve all got a reason for fighting, some more than others. For us, fighting isn’t just a game. It’s a way to survive.”

There was something in her eyes, something like a combination of pain and defiance. Her chin was lifted, but there was a slight tremble to her lips. She averted her gaze from mine to stare out the window.

“Does your dad, does he—” I said.

She waved her hand, dismissing the subject. “Not tonight, Odette. Not unless you’ve got about three hours and two boxes of Kleenex. Just go inside, okay?”

The other girls got so quiet I could barely tell if they were still breathing. The presence of unspoken pain hung between us and it made my chest ache that I couldn’t remember my closest friend’s secrets, all the things we had confided with each other between whispers and hugs.

“I’m sorry,” I said and I slid my hand across the seat to take hers. She gave me a half-smile, but didn’t pull her hand away. “I don’t remember everything, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care.” I swept my gaze to include Stephanie and Zoe in the backseat. “I care about all of you.”

Only Zoe acknowledged me with a nod, her eyes shining with tears that hadn’t fully formed yet. For an instant, I thought I saw her face covered with bruises, barely hidden beneath thick makeup and, when the image faded, I realized it was a memory.

...

We’d been standing in the girl’s bathroom at school when Zoe confided that she’d been raped by her older brother’s best friend when he spent the night. I held her, listening while she cried and told me details. I wanted to go kick his ass, but I knew she needed more than that. She needed healing and strength. She needed a friend. I tried to get her to talk to the school counselor, but when she refused, I convinced her to skip school instead.

Together we went to that same spot in the woods where I now take Kyle, and I taught her how to fight and defend herself. She picked up my moves really fast, developing her own style that was both beautiful and lethal. With her spins and kicks and her lithe, delicate build, she looked like a woodland fairy come to life—except she was a magical creature ready to defend her kingdom to the death.

A couple of weeks later, the two of us cornered the prick who had raped her. He was alone, smoking a cigarette back behind the school bleachers during fifth period. I let her do most of the work—I was just there for backup and to give her the confidence she needed. He was surprised to see us, and a lecherous grin spread across his face when he first saw Zoe, as if she’d come back for more of what he had to offer. Then his head cracked back with her first spinning kick, his grin disappeared, and after a few well-placed punches, he was on the ground, sobbing, begging her to stop.

Just like she’d begged him.

We heard later that he pissed blood for a week.

Zoe was the first one that I invited into the Silver Level of Phase Two. I wanted to make sure she always knew how to defend herself—whether I was with her or not—and that she knew she’d never have to feel helpless again. She’d gone on to become one of the best fighters in her weight class, a girl who looked as innocent as Bambi but had the ability to take down her opponents in a matter of seconds.

...

Emotion caught in my throat. On the surface, it may have looked like we joined this club for the thrill it gave us and that may have been partly true. But there were other reasons, good reasons, powerful Stay Alive To Fight Another Day reasons, none of them more important than the others.

These girls were more than a team of athletes or sparring partners. They’d been there for me, every day, throughout the past year. I’d do anything to protect them.

They were my emotional backup system. Just like Molly had been before I mysteriously ditched her.

And I’d do anything to protect them.





Chapter Thirty


The minute I walked through the front door, I got grounded, my cell phone confiscated. Dad made sure I knew there would be no phone calls, no texts, and no visitors for the entire weekend. That meant I couldn’t tell Molly about the rave or the teen fight club hidden inside, and I couldn’t talk to Dylan or Lauren about what had happened.

On top of that, Dad already had a cruel and unusual punishment planned that would run through both Saturday and Sunday, one that would ensure I’d be too tired to sneak out again. Early Saturday morning, he corralled both Kyle and me when we were barely awake and he shuffled us into the SUV and started driving. Kyle slumped in the backseat, looking as guilty as I felt.

“I get why you’re punishing me, but what’s up with Kyle?” I asked, a sullen tone in my voice. I chewed on a cinnamon bagel as we drove, wondering if he was taking us up into the mountains for another round of survival training. I didn’t know what to expect until we ended up in the parking lot of a private gym. A frown settled on my brow and I swung around to face Kyle. Had he told Dad that I taught him a couple of martial art moves?