Bad Boy Blues(15)

“I won’t.” I don’t know why but I go ahead and add, “I’m not gonna stay in a place where I’m not welcome. I did that for the first eighteen years of my life and it wasn’t pretty. Besides, she doesn’t need me.”

“I know. I know you have bad memories here. I know you don’t owe your mother or your father anything. But as I said, it’s unfortunate. We’re destined to love the people who give us life. I knew you’d want to be here as her son. Not because she needs you. With all due respect, I don’t care what she needs. I only care about you.”

Sometimes when she says these things, I wonder if it’s because she really cares for me or is it because she gets paid for it.

I shake my head and grit my teeth. Even so, the question comes out, “Who’s been taking care of her?”

“I am. Along with a couple of other staff members.”

“And Dad? What’s he doing all day?”

She shrugs. “Meetings. Work. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it.”

I smile bitterly. “Like always.”

“At least stay until the tests come back,” she urges again.

“I fucking hate this place.”

“You’re going to hate yourself more if you don’t stay. I don’t want you to hate yourself. You do that plenty anyway.” I go to say something but she cuts me off. “If you still don’t like it, no one is capable of stopping you, Master Zach.”

“Zach,” I snap. “If you want me to stay here, just call me Zach. And no one can know why I’m staying. I don’t want it plastered all over.”

“That you’re a good son?”

“Don’t test me.”

“Understood.”

I sigh and letting go of the door, I walk back to the bed. My backpack falls to the floor. “And leave the tray.”

Suddenly, I’m ravenous.

I stare hard at the sky that, for all intents and purposes, should be black. It’s fucking midnight. But it looks blue.

Dark, dark blue.

I hear Nora setting the tray down and then retreating from the room. Just as she’s about to close the door, I turn around and ask her, “What’s she doing here?”

Nora frowns. “Who?”

My nostrils flare as I take in a deep breath. My body feels tight, wound up. I need to get out of here, even if I’m not going anywhere.

“Cleopatra Paige.”

I don’t think I’ve ever said her full name out loud and I don’t think I will after this, either.

Her name’s like her.

Loud and dramatic and a fucking handful. Or mouthful. Whatever.

I can see Nora’s confusion but she still replies, “She works for me. She’s on the cleaning staff. Is this about what happened at the party? She’s never done anything like this before. In fact, she’s experienced. She used to work –”

“At the diner on the south side. I know. How long has she been working here?”

“About six months.” Looking at me shrewdly, she adds, “She actually lives right here. In one of the cottages.”

My fists snap close. “Why? What happened to her house?”

Maybe it’s the intensity in my voice or maybe it’s my rigid stance, but Nora takes a second to look me over. And I don’t like that.

“She lost it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Last year. Along with her parents,” she explains. “Maggie, she made a case for her and I took her on. She has nowhere to go.”

I don’t think I’ve ever clenched my teeth so hard. I’m about to fucking smash them with the force.

She has nowhere to go.

Nowhere. To go.

And she came to the worst place in this town.

“She’s not my best employee. She’s loud and I don’t get the whole messy blue hair thing but she’s been doing okay. Should I be aware of something?”

Her voice reaches me through a tunnel, a deep and dark tunnel, and somehow I manage to answer her. “No.”

“It looks like you know her.”

“I don’t.”

“But –”

I let my anger show on my face. “I think you should go.”

Nodding slowly, she leaves.

As soon as the door is shut, I pick up the keys to my bike.

For three years, I was free. Free of this place. Free of my parents. Free of all the things that they made me feel: anger, hatred, loneliness.

But apparently, I’m back and there’s one very important difference.

She lives here too, the girl with blue hair. The girl who bore the brunt of all my hatred and who I haven’t stopped thinking about since I saw her the first time when I was twelve.

And if I had known that, I never would’ve come back.

Because I don’t want anything to do with her and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want anything to do with me.





He came to me in my dreams last night.

Like he used to be back at St. Patrick’s. As I tossed and turned on the bed, in a state of half-wakefulness, I realized I’ve seen Zach grow up.

I’ve seen him as a smart-ass middle schooler with spiky hair and a wrinkled and dirty uniform who always ended up in detention. Even though at that age he was shorter than all the teachers, he’d still tower over them with his fuck you attitude.