Pretty Reckless: Chapter 25

Loving you is like

Listening to a song

For the first time

And somehow knowing all the lyrics

The game ends with 42-17 after much hard work from me trying to lose. Our scrawny quarterback ended up having an arm like Brett Favre, and the defense played their hearts out and forced fumbles that they recovered. Las Juntas Bulldogs win, anyway. Kannon gets the ball, but we both know who deserves it.

I leave before the after-game prayer. Stalking toward the locker room, I take a quick shower, throw my duffel bag over my shoulder, and burst into All Saints’ unlocked showers. Most of the players are inside, lathered in soap, sporting bruises on their foreheads and chests. Gus is sitting on a bench, a towel wrapped around his waist, holding his head in his hands. He is still dry as a bone.

Kicking his shin with my toes, I snap my fingers before him. He looks up. He looks like death. His eyes bloodshot, his cheeks sunken. People are whining about my being there as though I came in with a ruler to compare our dicks. I ignore the protests and requests to see myself the hell out.

“Your girlfriend’s dead.” He smirks darkly.

“Meet me at the pit tonight, Bauer. And this time, you’re not in charge of the fucking paperwork. You’re fighting. With me.”

Daria asked that no one know she was leaving. She preferred it that way, not trusting Gus with the information. But I don’t put it past my sister to tell him, and I have to make sure he doesn’t get to Daria tonight.

“Give me one good reason to do anything you ask, you fucking lowlife. I have every right to—”

I punch him in the face, knocking him back. He falls backward, and Colin—I’m not done with you, either, Colin—manages to catch him before his head hits the floor.

“You’ll come because I know where you live, and if you make me come to you, I will, and without witnesses, you will fare so much worse. You too, Stimatzky.” I look up to meet Colin’s gaze. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

I storm out, hearing Knight yell, “I knew it,” and lockers slamming in the distance.

Not all the All Saints High team are fuckers. But their captain is.

War is a universal language. Christian, Jew, Buddhist, or a Muslim. Beautiful or ugly. Rich or poor.

They’re about to find out that it is especially vicious when you’re the underdog.

“I need to tell you something, bro.” Kannon bounces his knee fast and furious while we drive back from the hospital and toward the snake pit. We had to make a stop at Cam’s bedside to give him the football we used for the win, signed by all of us, and while we were at it, we took him some greasy-ass food he’d never be able to get from the gross canteen.

“Spit it out.” I roll my window and spit out phlegm. My mind’s not on the fight I’m about to walk into. My mind is back in the Followhill mansion, where Daria is packing her bags to fly fuck knows where. Jaime and Mel are going to drive her to the airport tomorrow, and they already made it clear that this is one family function the Scullys are not invited to.

Daria was a rock star today, telling me to save my own ass because hers was already on fire. But when she stood there and yelled at me, her hair up and her neck exposed, the only thing I could focus on was the fact the sea glass necklace was no longer there.

I punch the steering wheel.

“Whoa. What’s wrong with you?” Kannon asks.

Everything. Every-fucking-thing is wrong with me.

“Just say what you gotta say, K.”

“First, I want to know what was up on that field, Penn.”

“Nothing. And if you don’t say what you have to say right now, I’m throwing you out of the car,” I inform him matter-of-factly without missing a beat.

“Well, shit, I was kind of hoping you’d be in a better mood but better late than never, I guess. So remember the first game of the season? Against the Saints?”

“How could anyone forget?” I throw the car into park in front of the snake pit. The lights are already on, and there’s more commotion than usual. In fact, it looks like my entire school is heading toward it. All Saints High, too. Dozens of kids are marching through the gates that have been busted open somehow, and a cold sweat finds its way to the back of my neck.

“We threw the game,” Kannon says.

I twist my head toward him. “Repeat that.”

“We threw the game.” He looks down at his hands. “The whole team did. Well, other than you and Camilo. Gus didn’t even think to approach you. We figured we looked so good, we could handle losing one game. Gus paid us five hundred bucks each. You know how it is, bro. Turning down money is not in the cards for most of us. Whether it’s for gear, shoes, or to help our folks with the rent…or, hell, you know? Just to eat at Lenny’s and live. Even those of us who didn’t need the money didn’t wanna ruin it for those who did.”

“You sold the game?” I can feel the tics in my eyelids. Never a good fucking sign.

He groans, throwing his head against his headrest. “We took State, man, and not thanks to you, so don’t give me this shit.”

Wordlessly, I step out of the vehicle and round it, opening Kannon’s door and throwing him out on the ground. I’m now oblivious to the growing crowd streaming into the snake pit. The only thing I can see is his face when he realizes he shouldn’t have confided in me.

I straighten him up against the car and squat down to his eye level.

“You try to throw any other games this season?” I park my elbows on my knees, squinting.

He shakes his head. “But I know Gus bought pretty much all of ASH’s games.”

“With what money?”

“The betting ring. He makes money there, then uses it to pay off players from other teams.”

“That’s thousands of dollars.”

“Vaughn loves to fight, and people love to think others have a fucking chance against him.” Kannon shrugs.

“What happened tonight, then?”

Kannon shakes his head. “He came to Josh the other night—Josh is the one who’s been listening to him since he has nothing to lose, and all. Gus tried to up his price. A thousand per head. And…until yesterday, people were going to do it. I wasn’t going to anymore, bro, I swear, but I couldn’t snitch on the others. Hell, people need this money for medicine for their parents and diapers for their baby siblings, and I’m no snitch.”

“What changed?”

“When they did what they did to Camilo…when he didn’t want to take part in this…I guess that’s when we officially lost our shit and decided enough was enough. It just didn’t sit right with us anymore. Him screwing around with your twin and trying to ruin your team.”

Anger bubbles in my blood, and I grab the collar of his shirt and raise my fist, about to put a hole in his face, when he looks me in the eye, dead calm, and says, “You have bigger fish to fry than me, brother.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look behind you.”

I twist my head and see the pink Jeep my sister has been using, parked across from where we are. I watch Via pouring out of it, hand in hand with none other than Daria herself. My fist drops as I gravitate toward them, my legs carrying me there without even meaning to, mesmerized.

“…I’m so glad we had a chance to start fresh. The entire cheer team would like to apologize. I know you’re moving away, but we wanted to straighten things out before you do. You know, not to leave things awkward,” Via explains to Daria, who looks like a ghost. About five pounds lighter than when the school year started, her eyes dead. She is still gorgeous, put together, and looks like a model, but her heart’s not in it anymore. Into flaunting her beauty like she earned it, somehow. I recognize Via’s lilt of fakeness. It’s the one she often used when she was still her old self.

I race across the parking lot, determined to protect Daria from whatever my sister has in store for her.

Praying I’m not too late.

The minute I step into the snake pit, I chuckle at my own stupid mistake.

This is not a last-ditch effort to try to make me stay. It’s not even a peace offering. I came here because Via begged me to stop the fight between Gus and Penn.

“Penn’s future is on the line. If you truly love him like you say you do, you’ll come and tell him not to fight Gus.”

It’s a trap. I should have known the minute Via knocked on my bedroom door. She seemed too hysterical. Too nervous. But her reasons for seeking a ceasefire were too logical to overlook. Teary-eyed, she explained that she was tired of the hateful looks her brother gave her. I truly thought she wanted to cover her ass and get my blessing before I move away.

I forgot one important thing—Via cares more about ruining me than saving herself.

It’s entrenched in her DNA and has been for years now. She already knows what it feels like to lose everything because it happened to her when she was fourteen. Because of me. She’ll never be the prima ballerina she could have been. She knows that, too. Too much time without proper training has passed. My mother can hole her up in the ballet studio fifteen hours a day, but youth shapes art, and she’s been artless for so long, her craft has wilted.

Her dream is an empty shell. The pearl that’s supposed to be inside is nowhere to be found. That’s why she keeps ripping into what’s mine. She knows we both lost, but I have the means to still live a comfortable life. She’s screwed. Maybe forever.

My eyes swallow the scene unfolding in front of me. The world moves in slow motion as hundreds—no, thousands—of flyers rain down on the dead field. They volley on the bleachers and brown, muddy ground and are speared to the chain-linked fence and handed over between people who are whispering and laughing. The cheer team stands on the top row of the bleachers, and all the cheerleaders are throwing them around with Esme laughing so loud, I swear they can hear her in Japan. One of the pages sticks to my shin as dozens of its friends fly past me, and I bend down and pick it up. The paper was printed so hurriedly, there are smidges of ink from people touching it before it had time to dry.

Entry #842:

Sin: Opened a fake dating profile on a website I knew Miss Linde was a member of and had virtual sex with her. Screenshotted everything and sent it to her ex-boyfriend.

Reason: She gave me two Cs just because she is jealous of Principal Prichard and me but too scared to rat us out.

Entry #843:

Sin: Ordered Esme full-fat lattes from Starbucks every Thursday for an entire semester when it was my turn to do the coffee round before practice in hopes she’ll gain weight.

Reason: Bitch always fat-shames everyone.

Entry #844:

Sin: Frenched Colin Stimatzky and let him cop a feel.

Reason: Wanted to get rid of my obsessive thoughts about Penn Scully AKA hole-in-a-shirt boy (UGH IT’S BEEN THREE YEARS, BITCH, GET OVER THE LOSER).

I’m on the verge of puking when I notice Penn darting around the place, plucking the papers from people’s hands with murder in his eyes. Every person in his way immediately drops their paper, but the damage has already been done. Everyone is standing in the center of the field or sitting on a bleacher and reading about my sordid deeds. People point, joke about me, and whisper about me. I am officially the laughing stock of the county, and nothing will change that. Ever.

I turn around, about to run away, when Via catches my wrist and tugs me back. She pretends to hug me, but I can feel her smile on the shell of my ear when she talks.

“It was a bad play on your part to ask your family not to tell anyone that you’re leaving. Totally drove me to tell Gus we needed to kick our plan into high gear. Now we’re even, Daria. Now, when I take everything away from you like you did from me, I can move on with my life. Now, you’ve finally tasted what it feels like to be thoroughly ruined.”

I squirm away, digging my feet into the ground and trying to escape, when Penn’s hand—warm and big—grasps my other wrist. Via releases me immediately.

I want to kick him away and yell at him for preventing me from escaping, but I’m defenseless against his touch. I break down on his chest, and his arms wrap around me, shielding me from the rest of the world. The tears are falling, and his chest rumbles, telling me that he is breaking, too. And somehow, at this moment, it’s enough. The world is against us—everyone knows about every single awful thing I ever did—and still…

Penn turns around to his sister, still holding me in his arms. “You can run, but you can’t fucking hide, Sylvia. And when I catch you—and I will catch you—you will regret the day I was born, five minutes before you, because I’m going to make ruining your life a full-time job, and I’ll be putting in some extra hours, too.”

It takes a lot for me to elevate my head from his chest to peek at Via’s expression when her brother officially disowns her. His voice is so low and threatening, shudders move down my spine. Via looks pale and panicked in front of him. Her lips are colorless; her entire body limp. She obviously wasn’t expecting Penn to be so mad. She expected him to have her back again. To make excuses for her. To protect her as he does—did, at least—unconditionally.

“Penn, I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he commands, stalking to the other side of the field with me in tow. He’s holding my hand now. I don’t know why I’m letting him. We’re not together and never will be. Not because he chose his sister, but because he chose to break not only our fling but also my heart. He went with the worst route possible. Hurting me on purpose. And I’m officially done with people who don’t choose me or see me.

Penn stops in front of Gus. I make myself look at the guy because this is my reality, and I need to face it. The entire football team, sans Knight, and the cheer squad surround Gus. His chin is up, and he’s wearing his varsity jacket and a vacant scowl. When he laughs, vodka breath fans across my face even though we’re a few feet away.

“Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Someone who’s about to put a stop to your pussy ways.” Penn fishes out his Zippo from his jeans, spinning it between his finger and thumb. Before I realize what’s happening, Via is standing behind Penn with tears streaming down her face. His teammate—Kannon, I think his name was—is next to us, too. And the Josh guy. And the Malcolm guy. And the Nelson guy…

“Via,” Gus barks. “Get your sweet ass over here.”

Via shakes her head slowly behind me, looking at the ground that’s now wet with her tears.

“Now!” Gus stomps his foot.

Penn takes a step toward Gus. Then another one. They are chest to chest now, and both teams are on edge, glaring at them impatiently, begging for a fight. I look around and see Adriana a few feet away from me. She shifts from foot to foot, clearly nervous about a rematch between us. I give her a tired smile and motion her with my hand to come a little closer. When she does, I grab her hand on instinct and squeeze it as hard as I can in my frail state.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “So sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was blinded by jealousy and desperate to keep something that wasn’t even mine to begin with.”

My popularity. Penn.

“I’m sorry, too.” She looks the other way, her chin trembling. “I shouldn’t have held on to him with everything that I had. He was never mine to hold.”

I feel a brush over my arm where Penn stood just a second ago. It’s Knight. And next to Knight stands Vaughn.

“Cole?” Gus twists his lips, glowering. “What the fuck?”

Knight clasps a hand on my shoulder, hitching a shoulder up while lighting a joint.

“The fuck is, you don’t fuck with my family and integrity and assume you get out of it in one piece. Or, you know, at all.”

Penn pushes Gus’s chest, and the latter tumbles into Colin’s arms.

“You’ve been spending the past four years taking bets in this place, never once getting your hands dirty. I think it’s time to remedy that. But first, let’s address the fact you are such a bitch, you resorted to trying to ruin Daria’s life because yours sucks ass. You spilled all her secrets. Throwing rocks when your house is made of glass.” Penn tsks, shaking his head. “When your house is made of nothing, actually. Bad call, Bauer. Terrible.”

Penn proceeds to circle Gus dispassionately, separating him from the rest of his crew. After the All Saints players see that Knight and Vaughn are with us, they take a few steps back. Not yet jumping ship, but visibly more wary about giving their team captain a glowing, full endorsement.

“You like secrets, assholes? Here’s a juicy one to keep you entertained. Gus’s mom is a whore. A real, get-paid-for-sex whore.” Penn lets loose a wicked smile, and Gus actually flinches in place, looking away. My mouth goes slack. What?

“Been sitting on this piece of info for four years now, never stooping to his level while he played filthy and tried shooting his mouth off. But now that he touched the only thing sacred to me, he is about to find out that even the sturdiest trunks can snap. Ever wondered why Bauer never throws parties at his crib? Why he never gives out his address? Yeah. That’s because he attends All Saints High on a scholarship. Sleeps in his fucking car. He’d sleep in his house, but it’s pretty busy there with horny fucks coming in and out every hour of the day and night. Oh, shit, I failed to mention—Gussy here is a neighbor of mine. A boy from the wrong side of the tracks, just like yours truly. That’s why he started the betting ring. That’s why he’s been paying off people to rig his games. He is just as desperate for a scholarship as I am. With one significant difference—one of us has talent and a future. The other just killed every chance of escaping here tonight.”

“Ohhhh,” the Las Juntas crowd, which I’m standing in the middle of, taunts, turning their thumbs down in a boo motion toward Bauer. Gus is bright red now, and despite everything, I feel sorry for him. For me. For all of us, really. Vanity cost us every single thing we achieved for ourselves. Our athletic career. Friends. Family. Our love interests.

Gus looks up, recovering quickly.

“Strangers might be screwing my ma. But you, Scully? Your worst enemy is screwing your sister. In every position under the sun.”

“Not my sister anymore.” Penn spits on the ground as he continues to circle him, still toying with his Zippo. “My sister was angry.” He raises his eyes to Via and smiles bitterly. “But she wasn’t soulless.”

I wish he’d stop saying things like that. I wish he’d stop playing with his Zippo.

If in the first act you have a pistol hanging on the wall, then in the following one, it should be fired.

“Penn.” Via runs toward him, but she stops halfway when his body freezes and his jaw hardens into a rigid square. “Please. You don’t understand. Hear me out. I’m sorry, okay? You want a secret? You want dirt? I’ll give you filth that’ll make Daria very happy. Four years ago, when I ran away, I was heartbroken over quitting ballet and leaving you. But I was also heartbroken over leaving Gus. We loved each other,” Via cries out, pushing Gus’s chest as she turns to face her brother. “I thought he was the love of my life. Stupid, I know, but I was so young. We went to the same middle school together. He was my first crush, my first kiss, my first time sneaking out and jumping on rooftops together, defying death. When I came back, I desperately wanted everything I once had back. Getting back together with Gus was a no-brainer. I never realized how much he’d changed in the time we weren’t together, and he went to an all-rich high school and wanted to fit in. And I guess I changed, too. I was so focused on ruining things for Daria, I did it at the expense of gaining a family, and a friend, and my brother back.” Her shoulders slump, and for the first time since I met her all those years ago, Via turns around to look at me, and she doesn’t look like she hates me. She looks tired. Destroyed. She looks exactly how I feel.

“We all have embarrassing secrets. Every single one of us. We’re just happy it’s not our diary on display. My secret? I’ve always envied you, Daria Followhill, and I tried to hurt you as much as you hurt me. With the only difference that you only did one bad thing to me. I did a lot of nasty things, and now I’m more isolated than I’ve ever been before. Even in Mississippi. Revenge tastes like shit. I wish I had known that before I put everything on the line to get it.”

Colin steps forward. He runs his fingers through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Gus told me to go for your quarterback’s leg,” he says. “That’s my secret. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I haven’t slept in two days. Haven’t eaten, either, which might explain why we were so crappy back there on the field. The truth is, my brother got drafted to the NFL, yet I’m a subpar player. My parents don’t even bother coming to our games. I wanted this championship so badly. I just wanted them to see me for once in my miserable life.”

Esme steps forward. It feels like a huge purge of feelings, secrets, and sins. The snake pit has never been more crowded…or poisonous. Yet the antidote to all the venom is honesty.

Esme huffs, taking off her high heels and throwing them across the field, leaving her barefoot.

“Shit. Ugh. I hate these!” she exclaims, laughing. “God, I hate heels. And those miniskirts.” She wiggles her butt as she tries pulling her very short skirt down her thighs. Blythe is beside her, eyeing her with a look I decode as fear.

“My secret? Ha. Where do I even begin? My mom told me I was fat when I was, like, probably five or something, and I pretty much haven’t eaten a carb since. Not that she cares anymore. She’s on husband number three right now and too busy traveling the world with him. I hate anyone and everyone with a semi-functioning family and therefore loathed Daria before she even opened her mouth. Then she started talking smack about her mom—who bakes cupcakes for us when we had pool parties at her house and used to braid Daria’s hair before school and send her with home-cooked food until this semester—and I had a really good reason to hate her. I want everyone to feel the pain I feel. All. The. Time. Maybe that’s why I’ve been fucking Vaughn Spencer since the beginning of the semester. Sorry, Bly—”

The slap comes before she can even complete the sentence. Blythe growls in her face and rushes toward me, flinging her arms over my shoulders. I freeze.

“I’m so sorry, Daria. Esme never should’ve gotten your title. I’m sorry I took her side. My secret is that I’m insecure, probably too insecure, to stand up against bullies. To tell people how I feel about them.” She sniffs, chancing a glance at Vaughn. “I don’t know. I sometimes feel like I’m too afraid to live.”

Esme looks up at me hesitantly, and I shake my head while drawing Blythe into a deeper hug. I feel bad for both girls, but that doesn’t mean I can forgive so quickly.

“I…uhm…” Adriana takes a step forward, wiping her sweaty palms on the back of her jeans. “I’m probably going to regret this as soon as it leaves my mouth, but I care too much about Penn not to say this when I have the balls to do it. Harper is not his, okay? I can’t say more than that, but Penn’s been sticking around because he is good, and responsible, and my best friend. Not because he should’ve or had any responsibility to. I outstayed my welcome in his life, even when it was so painfully clear that his heart wanted something I could never give him.” She looks up at him and chuckles to herself. “I’m sorry, Scully. I hope it’s not too late for you guys.”

He gives her a slight nod without looking at me.

“Hey, guys, I have a confession, too.” Knight steps forward, rubbing the back of his neck. “My dick is not six inches long. It is actually a full seven and a half inches. When flaccid. It’s really uncomfortable, and my junk gets hit practically anytime anyone goes for my legs on the field. It’s been really hard for me. All puns intended.”

Everyone bursts out laughing, other than Gus. Gus just keeps on standing and looking like his life is over. And I guess now that the truth about the rigged games is out, it kind of is.

“You forgot to give us a secret, Bauer.” Penn folds his arms on his chest.

“That makes the two of us.” Gus tilts his chin up.

“Tell you what, you go first, and if it’s good enough, we’ll strike a deal, and you’ll get out of here without a broken nose. That is if Daria gives me permission not to kill you.” Penn looks over at me, and I nod.

Gus blows out air. “You want a secret? One that’d save my skin? All right.” He looks over at Via, regret in his eyes. She sees it, too, and coils into herself, preparing for the blow.

“When I was born, my mama put me on the steps of our local church. The pastor knew her from around the neighborhood, so instead of doing the right thing and handing me over to the police, he gave me back to her. I guess she was too embarrassed not to take me back. He said he and the church would help us, but of course, the fucker never did. Your, er, stepdad, Rhett…” He coughs. Starts walking around in circles. Marx, no wonder we were all so terrible to each other. “He came to see us often. He used to talk about Penn like he was the next Jerry Rice. That’s what got me into football in the first place. Said Penn’s gonna make it big and buy his entire family mansions, and I wanted it, too. I started pursuing Via because I wanted to be close to Penn, but Penn was never close to anyone other than Cam and Kannon. Years passed. We all went our separate ways. And when Penn came to the snake pit months ago, drunk off his ass…” He trails off. “I gave him my best fighter, Vaughn, because I was hoping—praying, maybe—that he’d kill him. I didn’t want the competition. I need a scholarship, goddammit. Need out of this shithole before I become the help to the same people I grew up with in high school.”

There’s a beat of silence as his words soak into everyone’s brains.

“Your turn, Scully.” Knight grins beside me, squeezing my shoulder.

Penn turns around to look at me, so everyone else does, too. Even though I should be embarrassed because of everything that went down, and because practically everyone here knows all of my secrets, I’m surprisingly calm.

“I owe you two truths. One, I’ll give you now, Skull Eyes. But the other…” He takes a deep breath. “The other you’ll get if you decide to stick around. If Lady ends up with Tramp.”

He walks over to me and lifts my chin up with his finger. I stop breathing. Everyone circles us in a backdrop of faces and blurred figures. He’s the only thing I see, and maybe it’s always been this way. Maybe I needed to look for him when I still could and demand he took all my firsts as if I owed them to him.

“The truth about the holes in my shirts is as follows: My last recollection of Stan, my dad, was when he left us. I was five, and I’d been climbing on the tree in our backyard, trying to create a makeshift treehouse. I was fucking obsessed with treehouses. And forts. And sand castles. Looking back, I probably just wanted a real home, something I didn’t have. My dad didn’t want to spoil us, so he refused to help me build one. Anyway, I ended up falling on my ass, but on the way down, my shirt got caught on a branch, and a huge hole opened right where my heart is. It was a close call, for sure. My mother was already halfway addicted, so she just told me to be more careful next time. My dad’s mom, though, went berserk. Ioanna Scully is every shade of insane in the coloring book. The kind of religion that believes in curses and spells. She said I was an unruly boy, and I called her an old hag because that’s what my mom called her. Of course, I didn’t realize Mom was saying those things behind her back for a reason. At any rate, Ioanna cast a spell on me. She said my heart will be broken until I find the one. That I’m going to walk around with holes in my shirts to symbolize what I don’t have until I experience true love. But until then, I will be miserable. Naturally, I thought it to be bullshit. But then weird things started happening to me every time I didn’t wear the holed shirt. One time, I almost got run over. The other, the money I stole from my mom mysteriously disappeared from my pocket. A dog bit me, my bikes got stolen…so I started cutting holes in all my shirts as a safety measure. I had no choice. I got a lot of mouthfuls from my dad about it, obviously, but it worked.”

“What about when you play football?” I ask, mostly oblivious to our audience. I can’t believe he shared it with me. With both our schools, actually. Penn has always been so private. It’s a struggle to get him to admit what hour it is.

“I always have a holed shirt underneath my jersey.”

“And why do you sometimes have big holes and small holes? What does that mean?”

“My holes were the same size for a while. Until shortly before Via came back. Then I started cutting them smaller. That’s because…” He tilts his head and smiles at me, but it’s a sad smile, one that breaks my heart. “Well, now we’re treading into secret number two, and you’ll only get this if you’re going to stay. So, are you? Going to stay, Daria? Fight or flight?”

Fight. Always fight.

That was what I told him the last time we asked, but there’s an ocean between that Daria and the one I am today. And I won’t be able to truly explore who I am unless I take a step back. He and Via will never be able to heal while I’m still in the picture.

I take a deep breath, pressing my index to his lips on a smile. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Dar…”

I raise myself on my tiptoes and kiss his lips. It’s a chaste, nervous kiss, but it tells him what I think he needs to know. That he is forgiven. That I hope he forgives me. And that it is time to move on.

“So? What’s happening now?” Gus asks behind us. Penn closes his eyes and shakes his head, forcing himself to turn around and face Bauer.

“We won the championship. You have your ass to save and a scholarship to start praying for. I call a ceasefire on a few conditions,” Penn says with his hand on his hip.

Gus tilts his chin down.

“First things first, from this moment onward, you do not initiate any communication with Daria and Via, dead or fucking alive. I don’t care if it’s good or bad, you get out of their lives forever.”

Via bursts into tears beside us again. I think they’re happy tears. I think she’s relieved he cares enough to warn Gus off.

“Fine. I won’t,” Gus growls. “How do I know if everyone else here is going to keep silent?”

Colin steps forward. “We don’t let anyone leave without giving us a secret. That way, we all have leverage on each other, and nobody wants to get screwed over.”

“That’s the dumbest, most brilliant idea I’ve ever heard.” Knight nods. “Unless, of course, my giant dick confession doesn’t count.”

Vaughn flicks Knight’s head and rolls his eyes. Colin and Nelson run off to the chain-linked gate, closing it so no one can slip out without giving away a secret.

Adriana, Esme, Blythe, and Via gather around me. Via is the first one to pick up one of the printed pages of my diary and ball it in her fist.

“Let’s clean this up in the meantime.”

Penn holds her hand, removing it from the page.

“No,” he says. “The snake pit needs to die.”

On the drive back to my house, it’s just Via and me.

The snake pit is in flames behind us, eighteen gallons of gasoline later. The idea was Penn’s, but it was Vaughn who backed him up and cited fire as the best way to burn things to the ground so that it’s nearly impossible to rebuild them.

Via taps the steering wheel and looks around her, clearing her throat and trying to figure out what to say. I’m too tired to talk. Sitting there for four hours hearing about other people’s admissions—how they killed their neighbor’s dogs, made out with their stepdads, cheated on tests, stole valuables from their friends, and so forth—left me even more drained than I previously was. But Gus is off the hook, and so is Penn. Las Juntas won, and All Saints will have to deal with whatever consequences occur. It’s just sad that there were so many casualties in the process.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Via asks me. Being nice to me is new to her and vice versa. I haven’t eaten in days, but I can’t even entertain the thought.

“No thanks. I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Silence. More tapping on the steering wheel. I look out the window, and it’s pitch black as we enter El Dorado, the gated community where I live. Lived, anyway. I won’t be staying here for longer than the next few hours. My next chapter will begin tomorrow morning, and Daddy will help me settle in for my first week in my new town.

“So what do you think Jaime and Mel are going to do to me?” She chews on her bottom lip, still looking at the road. I smirk at her worry.

“Probably nothing. Melody loves you, and Dad loves her, so your ass is covered.”

“She loves you, too, you know.” She parks in front of the mansion, and I get out before we share a moment. I’m not ready for moments with Via. I just want to survive the next few hours without more hiccups than necessary.

I push aside the fact Penn’s car is already here and try not to think about it. Going into his room to say goodbye will only make things harder for both of us. Once upon a time, we may have had a chance to get our happily ever after, but in this fairy tale turned nightmare, we both did too many awful things for the prince to claim his princess.

We walk into the house, and the minute Via pushes the door open, Melody pushes her out of the way, borderline violently, and launches toward me in a suffocating hug.

“Marx, where have you been, Lovebug? I’ve been calling and calling. I wanted to spend tonight together.”

I blink at her differently, taking a step sideways to dodge her hysterical behavior. Kids will be kids, and we all did shitty things. But Melody is an adult. More than that, she’s my mother—and I’m still not done being mad at her.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Did Via take you somewhere against your will?” Mel twists her head and stares at Sylvia accusingly. Well, well. That’s a change of tune. Too little, too late comes to mind, though. None of this makes any difference anymore.

Via turns ghostly white, her eyes widening at me. Technically, that’s exactly what she did. But I’ve met my drama quota for the next three decades, thank you very much.

“No. Everyone was hanging at the pit, and I bummed a ride with her. It’s, like, one in the morning. I’m going upstairs to sleep.” With that lukewarm endorsement of Via, I go up the stairs and into my room.

In bed, I stare at the brand-new drywall in front of me and blink away the tears. After the aquarium got shattered, they replaced it with a sturdy, ugly thing to replace the beautiful, fragile one. The story of my life, I guess. I am finally digesting everything that’s happened to me in the past six months, and the overwhelming notion of loneliness grips my body.

I’m moving away from my family. My parents. From Bailey. I’m turning my back on Vaughn and on Knight without saying goodbye because I know they won’t let me go. They’ll promise to protect me and fight my battles at school, and a part of me still wants that to happen.

But I can’t.

I have to make it on my own.

The door creaks open, and I close my eyes and smile. He closes the door behind him and leans against it—things I hear rather than see—and my heart swells in my chest.

“My dad’s gonna kill you if he finds out,” I whisper.

“Still worth it,” he retorts, taking my taunt as permission to saunter deeper into my room. My bed dips, and when his body presses against mine, I’m shocked to find out he is naked except for his briefs. My eyes snap open, and I suck in a breath.

“Whoa,” I say. My hands shoot out to trace his collarbone, chest, washboard abs, and his V without even meaning to. Then they trail his bulging triceps, his tennis-balls of biceps, and all the delicious veins wrapped around them. Every inch of bronzed skin. “Escalation, Scully.”

“Skull Eyes.” His lips are already locked on mine when he speaks, and he is moving smoothly, thrusting his briefs against my clothed groin, even though I’m still in my jeans. “It’s done. So much dirt has been spilled tonight, yours is a drop in an ocean of sins. Don’t get on that plane tomorrow. Don’t fucking do this to us.”

Rather than answer him with my words, I answer him by thrusting my groin back against his erection. He moans and unbuttons my jeans, yanking them along with my panties down my legs and balling the fabrics, throwing them over his back. He then spreads my thighs and dips two fingers into me, curling them and taking them out, sucking on them hungrily.

“I’ve loved you in secret, and I’ve loved you openly in front of both our worlds, and if you think I’ll stop loving you if you put an ocean between us, you’re dead wrong.”

I cry out and arch my back when his fingers re-enter my body, chasing his touch as he fingers me mercilessly. My legs quiver around his arm, and I’m about to come when he stops and lowers himself down, throwing my legs over his broad shoulders. He sweeps his tongue up and down the length of my entrance, flicking against my clit every time he does.

“Oh, Penn. Marx, Penn.”

“Marx.” He laughs into me, thrusting his tongue deeper, penetrating me before licking me faster. “My favorite fucking word.”

He licks between my legs until no more air is left in my lungs. The desire is so sharp, the pleasure so profound, I stop breathing and brace myself for the storm that is the brewing orgasm inside me. When it finally crashes down on me, greater than any physical feeling I’ve ever experienced, he rises on his forearms and enters me in one go, filling me to the brim. I arch farther, clutching his back. He shuts up my moans with a dirty kiss that tastes and smells like me.

“Your dad killing me might be inevitable, but there’s no need to make it happen prematurely.”

I laugh as he starts moving inside me without a condom or a care in the world. I’m on the pill, but he doesn’t know that. I’m having crazy thoughts. Like maybe he is doing this on purpose. Like maybe he wants to chain me down to this place. Like maybe I should stay. And it makes my heart laugh through the tears because it’s too late.

We move seductively, kissing and biting and breathing each other in. I can taste the goodbye on my tongue, and it’s bittersweet. Wonderfully tragic.

I caress his face, his jaw, his lips. I will miss you.

I study every inch of his beautiful face. I will never forget you.

His hands roam and mine caress. This was so much more than first love. It was first hate, too.

And when he empties inside me, I don’t even mention what we did was irresponsible and wrong. I know he is doing it to keep me in his messed-up, desperate way. So I just kiss him long and deep and hard.

“I’m staying the night,” he tells me, hugging me close to his chest. Our hearts are beating in unison. I squeeze his hands under mine.

“My dad really is going to kill you.” I chuckle, bumping my shoulder into his. “Come on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise?” he asks.

“Promise,” I lie.