The Weight of Blood (47)

“After the hair and blackface incident, we went AGAIN to the school board with our plan. Even parents came. Once again, they blew us off. Then out of nowhere, one white girl suggests having a joint prom, and the school board suddenly talking about, ‘See? We don’t need to implement any changes; prom will solve all our problems.’ They really thought we’d all come together, hug it out, and erase all the damage that had been done. It was a slap in the face to all our efforts.”

At her insistence, Kenny dropped Maddy off on the corner two blocks away from her home. He watched her speed walk down the road, clutching a stack of books. She hadn’t needed to give him directions; everyone in town knew where Maddy lived, right on the border of the East and West Sides. The infamous house sat far back from the street on a hill of half-dead grass. An old colonial-style white home with black shutters, the paint and wood chipped where the birds had rammed into it all those years ago, leaving its face marred as if by acne scars.

Kenny shook his head, catching her lingering scent, sweet and fruity, like candy apples. A strangely comforting smell. He placed a hand where she had just sat, the seat still warm, and took a deep breath.

Stop being weird, he thought, just as his phone buzzed.

“Hey, Mom,” he answered, making a U-turn.

“Son. Where are you?” Her voice sounded serious.

“I’m . . . um, dropping a friend at home. Why?”

She sighed. “Did you forget something?”

“Uh . . . did I?”

“Does the word ‘donuts’ ring a bell?”

“Donuts? Mom, what are you . . . oh! Damn!”

Kenny whipped around and spotted his jersey hanging in the back seat.

“Yup, sounds like you did,” Mrs. Scott said with a chuckle.

He’d completely forgotten about the appearance his dad had scheduled at the new donut shop that had opened downtown. His mother had even pressed his jersey for him to wear for pictures. His face on their ads would’ve been great for business.

Kenny rubbed his forehead. “How mad is he?”

She laughed. “Very.”

“And you?”

“I’m . . . surprised, to be honest. You’re usually good about this type of stuff. Everything okay?”

He glanced in the rearview, watching Maddy’s hair blow in the wind, and cleared his throat.

“Guess I’m just a little . . . off.”

“Well, Mercury is in retrograde, so the whole world is a little off. But you’ll be doing a lot more of this in the future, you know?”

He held back a groan. “Yeah, I know.”

Kenny didn’t bother heading home. He went straight to the gym to put in three extra miles and a lonely boy workout.

It’s what his father would make him do anyway.

“So you’re really okay with Kenny taking Maddy fucking Washington to prom?”

Wendy lay back on her bed with the phone to her ear, laughing.

“Char, for the thousandth time, yes! I really do feel shitty about what happened to her.”

“I get it, but I don’t see why you have to be the sacrificial lamb here. And breaking up with Jules on top of it? Wendy, Jules is hurting real bad.”

Just the sound of her name made Wendy’s jaw clench. “Well, so am I. Are you going to stop being my friend too?”

“What, are we in middle school? Of course not!”

Wendy exhaled, relieved; lunch period was already awkward enough. Thankfully, school was almost done, then summer, then college. She could last that long without Jules—they probably would’ve drifted apart anyway. It’s what she told herself when the pain of losing a best friend kept her up at night. She missed their late-night chats, their dance-offs, and terrible off-key sing-alongs in her car.

“But as your friend,” Charlotte started, “are you seriously telling me you’re okay with your boyfriend taking another woman out on a date?”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “It’s just one dance. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“No, it was a date date.”

Wendy chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Ali Kruger saw Kenny and Maddy at the Dairy Queen today.”

Wendy gripped her phone and sat up. Dating the most popular boy in school (hell, in their whole town), she was used to receiving unsolicited reports of Kenny’s whereabouts. Nine times out of ten, she already knew. It’s not like there were many places to be, and she had his moves down to a science. In her four years of high school, she’d studied Kenny Scott the way one would study for the SATs.

But this new piece of information caught her off guard. And she hated being caught off guard.

Why were they at Dairy Queen? And for how long? And why didn’t he tell me?

She realized she had been silent for seconds too long and cleared her throat. Her response had to be strategic. Couldn’t seem too shocked or too apathetic, sparking rumors that there was trouble in paradise. They were fine. They’d always been fine.

So the best course of action was to lie.

“Ha! It wasn’t a date,” she scoffed, playing it off like she already knew.

But Charlotte giggled as if she’d read right through her act. “Kenny and Maddy has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” she teased. Charlotte reveled in mess.