ass.
She hurries
across the scraggly front yard, wrapping her arms around her waist. Her gray
cardigan and fitted jeans are not exactly what you’d call skimpy, but she
manages to make them look amazing. With that thick blonde hair and those big
blue eyes, she doesn’t need any fancy beauty products to look incredible.
The crazy thing
is, it doesn’t seem like she knows it. How can someone be as beautiful as Nadia
and not even have the slightest idea?
“Morning,” she
says breathlessly, sliding into the back seat.
“What are you
doing back there?” I ask, peering through the rearview mirror.
“Garrick needs
more leg room than me,” she replies.
“You got here
first. Fuck Garrick.”
She lets out an
exasperated laugh and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Don’t draw me into your macho
nonsense. If you want to mess with Garrick, you can do it yourself.”
“Fine. I get it.
You just don’t want to ride shotgun with me,” I say, pulling an
over-the-top-pout.
“Don’t be sad. I
promise you’re still my favorite foster brother.”
I cringe a
little as she lets the b word slip past her lips. The last thing I want to be
to this girl is a brother, after all. But that’s just my freakin’ luck, I
guess.
I slam my palm
against the horn again, holding it down nice and long out of frustration and
more than a little annoyance. We’re going to be late if those jokers don’t get
down here soon. Not like I give a shit about school, but I get enough
detentions as it is without adding tardiness to the laundry list of offenses.
Conway comes
catapulting out of the house in a crop top and low rise jeans. She thinks she’s
tough shit, having grown up in the system and all. But really, she’s just a
kid—a kid who it’s my job to protect, these days.
I’ve lost count
of how many douche bags I’ve had to chase away from her. It’s not like they’d
get anywhere with her, anyway. My little foster sister only has eyes for one
dude: Garrick. What she sees in the big lug is beyond me, but they’ve been
cooped up at the Daniels’ for a while...tragedy can bring people together.
Naturally,
Garrick’s the last one out the door. His eyes are still puffy from sleep, and
he looks more than a bit hungover. We’ve got all the booze we want in this
house, and Garrick’s got a habit of going overboard. Me, I know how to handle
my liquor. Chalk it up to experience, I guess. It’s not something that I’m
proud of, really. I don’t actually think about it all that much. It’s just a
part of my life, like anything else. Besides, there are far worse things a guy
could be into than booze.
“Don’t you
assholes know what an alarm clock is?” I demand as Garrick and Conway lower
themselves in my car.
“Shut up,”
Garrick grumbles, closing his eyes tightly, “Why do you have to be so damn loud
in the morning?”
Just to piss him
off, I crank up the volume of the car radio and switch on my favorite metal
station. Garrick groans as we pull away from the curb, and all I can do is
laugh. Maybe I can train him into taking it easy on the booze. Talk about cruel
and unusual punishment.
In no time flat,
we pull into the parking lot of our public high school. Chicago schools are not
exactly the pride and joy of the nation, and this one’s no exception. One thing
this place has got going for it, though, is that it’s pretty easy to fall
through the cracks. No one gives you shit, or gives a shit at all most of the
time.
For those of us
just waiting out the clock, that’s a pretty big perk. I don’t need any asshole
teacher trying to go all Good Will Hunting on me, that’s for damn sure. I sure
as hell don’t have time for that.
The four of us
pile out of the car, slinging our backpacks onto our shoulders. I catch a happy
little smile creep onto Nadia’s face as we make our way toward the building.
She’s walking faster than any of us, and I hurry to keep up with her, letting
the others fall behind.
“What are
Serenity King, Pepper Pace, Aliyah Burke, Erosa Knowles, Latrivia Nelson, Tianna Laveen, Bridget Midway, Yvette Hines