The Weight of Blood (56)

“Jules got herself kicked out of school,” Kenny retorted.

“And she completely fucked up prom.”

“Jules fucked up prom with that pencil! Maddy had nothing to do with any of that shit!”

Flabbergasted, Jason gazed up at the sky with a groan. “Bro, why are you all of a sudden sticking up for her?” Then, a thought dawned on him, and he grinned. “Oh, I get it. Now that we know Maddy’s Black, you’re trying to . . .”

Kenny’s eyes flared. He took another menacing step forward. “Trying to what? Huh? Say it!”

Jason stood tight-lipped, but his eyes were laughing. Laughing at him.

“Guys, cool it!” Chris shouted, pushing between them. “Jason’s only joking. Right, Jason?”

Kenny clenched his jaw, his pulse pounding. They stood motionless, glaring at each other.

“Right, Jason?” Chris urged him again.

Jason tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Yeah. Right.”

Chris turned to him. “See? It’s all good.”

Kenny backed up several feet, taking stock of his friends. The ones he thought he knew, thought were his brothers. And now, he wanted nothing to do with them.

Kenny shook his head and waved them off. “Whatever, man.”

Jason rolled his eyes as Chris reached for Kenny. “Bro! Kenny, wait!”

But he was already gone, sprinting back into the school, through the near-empty halls, everyone cleared out for the day. He stopped near the freshman lockers, panting. Not out of breath, but out of anger. Chest heaving, he paced back and forth, cracking his knuckles, ready to hit anything moving.

Maddy.

Kenny jerked straight. The name popped in his head and hit a nerve. Questions dripped in—is she okay? Where is she? Are they bothering her again? He swallowed and stalked down the hallway.

Maddy.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake his thoughts free of her. But maybe . . . he could stop by the store or her house just to make sure she was okay. No harm in that. He walked faster, determined to jump in his car in search of her.

Maddy.

The air thickened. He could almost smell her, feel her cold hand in his palm. He turned a corner, by the far end of the library, moving with a sense of urgency.

And inside, there sat Maddy at one of the computers, her back to the door. His legs stiffened. The sight of her dunked him into a pool of freezing water. She wasn’t in danger. She was fine, watching some videos on YouTube, black-and-white footage from the civil rights movement, water hoses being turned on protesters.

What is she doing?

Maddy jolted straight in her chair and spun around, looking directly at Kenny. He jumped, shoving away from the door.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

Maddy stepped into the hall. “Kendrick?”

“Uh, hey,” he said, trying to sound smooth and nonchalant like he hadn’t just been spying on her like some creep.

She took him in with a furrowed brow.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” he asked, faking a laugh.

She squirmed. “Just a . . . feeling.”

And here he thought he had a solid poker face. With a great exhale, he slumped against a locker.

“You know, no one calls me Kendrick except you,” he admitted with a small smile.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Naw, it’s nice! I like my name. Always have.”

“Then why Kenny?”

He shrugged. “Guess it was just easier to say.”

“Easier for who?” she asked, but something about her expression made it clear she already knew the answer, and he liked that they were already reading each other’s minds.

Maddy looked different. Still in a long navy skirt but no sweater, her thin arms exposed in a men’s white undershirt, baggy on her bony frame. He couldn’t remember her ever dressing so . . . casual.

He glanced back down the hall, relieved no one had followed him, and that they were alone. He didn’t want to be anywhere near his friends or even in the school that revered him. He turned back to Maddy.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

Kenny sped down Old Millings Road, a single-track lane, miles away from town. His copilot gazed out the window, taking in the scenic route—the lush tree-covered mountains, thick green underbrush, cable bridges, and narrow gorges they passed. He turned up the music and rolled down the windows. The air rushing in smelled rich with spring, honeysuckle, and newness. Maddy’s hair flowed wildly around her, but she did nothing to tame it. Just sat back and snuggled into the seat with a satisfying sigh. Kenny watched her strands dance in the wind like they were moving in slow motion and found it hard to focus on the road. She turned, met his gaze with intense eyes, and gave him a smile that felt like the warmth of a thousand suns. The tension eased out of his shoulders as he grinned back, fascinated by how just being near her both calmed and excited him.

Behind them, an old blue pickup truck flew around the bend, gaining speed. Kenny stiffened as a truck passed them on the left, its massive Confederate flag flapping in the wind, a wide-eyed deer in the bed, mouth gaping in horror. It wasn’t hunting season. The three passengers in matching sunglasses nodded at him. Kenny sat up straighter, placed both hands on the wheel, and nodded back. Any other day, he wouldn’t pay them any mind. He’d seen plenty of those Klan banners before, even on his friends’ parents’ cars. But for some unexplainable reason, his chest tightened. It wasn’t just him in the car. He had Maddy. And he needed . . . no, wanted to keep her safe. He slowed down, putting as much distance between them as possible. Maddy didn’t seem to notice. She was just enjoying the ride.