The Weight of Blood (80)

Jules.

There were so many practical jokes Jules had played in their lifetime, but never anything this monstrous. Had Wendy not realized just how cruel Jules could be? If she was honest with herself, she’d known all along and she’d chosen not to do anything about it. Because being Jules’s friend meant protection from everything she feared not being.

Wendy sank onto the edge of a throne, its red velvet seat riddled with paint. No one would ever believe Wendy had nothing to do with the joke. Not Regina, not Kali, not even Kenny. In a way, she deserved it after years of looking the other way.

Outside, a bloodcurdling scream made her head snap up. She jumped off the stage and raced for the door.

Across the tracks, the crowd stood in front of the country club, the whole prom shouting.

“Kenny! Kenny!” someone screamed.

“Oh God,” she gasped, sprinting toward them.

“No! Stop!” someone screamed, followed by a girl’s guttural sobs. “Kenny!”

Wendy pumped her arms hard, trying to run faster.

Please, please, please.

Suddenly, her face spasmed and it felt as if a nail had hammered itself straight into her ear. She gripped the sides of her head, the sound so loud, her whole body shook. She fell, gravel cutting into her knees. The crowd’s choked screams pierced the air.

Straining through the pressure, she glanced up, eyeballs jiggling in their sockets . . . just as the first police car floated up into the sky, dangling in midair as if from a puppet string.





Twenty-Three


May 31, 2014

THE BALMY AIR crackled with tension. Maddy tried to lean away, find different air to breathe. But Kendrick was holding her hand tight, blood pounding through his veins. They stood sandwiched between the entire prom shouting behind them, protesters yelling on the sides of them, and police lined in front of them, blocking access to the country club. She shivered, the paint drying sticky on her lashes. Her scalp tingled and burned like a chemical relaxer left on too long.

“Look what they did!” Kenny barked, pointing to Maddy. “They set her up! Ain’t that assault or something?”

A tall, redheaded officer looked at his colleagues. Maddy read his badge: Ross.

“Son, you need to go on home,” he said in a smug voice. “Take your girlfriend, get her cleaned up, and out of here.”

“Naw, I ain’t leaving. I need to talk to them!”

Ross’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. Kendrick stood in front of Maddy, never letting go of her hand.

“Boy, I said go home!” Ross yelled, pointing in the direction they’d come from.

“Who you calling ‘boy’? I ain’t your boy!”

Panic filled every square inch of Maddy’s body. She squeezed Kenny’s hand.

“Please, Kendrick,” Maddy whimpered. She didn’t care what happened to her. It didn’t matter; nothing would change. He knew this. But her words were drowned out in a sea of anger.

Ross’s hand sat on his belt, inching toward his gun.

The crowd pushed, shoved, and shouted, the thickness of the line becoming thinner, smothering. Maddy lost her balance, fumbling into Kenny. He caught her up against himself, winning his full attention. Anger melted from his eyes, his jaw softening, and for the briefest moment, the world around them disappeared.

“Hey,” he whispered with a half smile, cupping her face. She leaned into his palm, calluses scratching her cheek.

And before she could open her mouth to beg him to leave, behind them, Rose tripped on her long lavender lace dress, landing on Kendrick’s shoulder blades. He tipped forward like a domino, falling into Officer Ross.

“What the fuck!” Ross barked, shoving Kendrick off him. He righted himself and, in one swift motion, reached for his baton.

As he stumbled back, Kenny’s eyes widened, his body flooding with terror, leaving Maddy gasping for air.

“Wait!” Kenny stuttered, his hand held up, turning to push Maddy out of the way.

The baton hovered in the air before cracking down on Kenny’s skull. Something sprayed in her face and she flinched.

“NO!” Kali screamed, and the crowd fell silent. “KENNY!”

Blood dripped down the middle of Kenny’s face, swerving around his nose. He swayed, his eyes rolling back, as Ross’s arm arced to strike him again. And again.

Rooted to the ground, Maddy jerked with every blow, the blood misting on her, her muscles steeped in ice. Kenny never let go of her hand, not even when he fell and Ross stood over him, the cords in his neck straining as he delivered another blow. And when Kenny finally let go, he gripped her bare ankle before going limp.

“Stop,” Maddy quaked with a bleated cry, her hand raised, but fear ate her powers. The air smelled of pennies. She could taste it on her tongue.

An officer jumped in, yoking Ross away. “Hey, man! What are you doing? Are you crazy? Do you know who that is?”

Ross stood, sweat on his brow, pointing his bloody baton at the crowd. “You saw him! He assaulted an officer!”

The crowd backed up, afraid of being Ross’s next victim. It took three people to hold Kali back, her tortured cries blaring into the night.

“Kenny! Kenny!”

Kenny lay unconscious at Maddy’s feet, his face almost unrecognizable. His blood felt heavy on her skin. It dripped down into her armpits, mixing pink with the white paint. She could feel every ounce weighing down her muscles, seeping into the fabric of her dress. Her heart shuddered.