“I can understand your position. If I were you, I might not want to return home either, but the time for cowardice is over. You need to face your family and pay for your crimes.”
My mouth drops open as I search his face. “My crimes?” I ask after my mouth snaps shut again. He’s insane.
Trey nods as both his eyebrows come together. “Desertion, among others,” he replies, tightening his hand on my arm, like he severely disapproves of me.
“You’re mental…” I trail off, seeing the serious expressions on all of their faces.
“We’re quite sane,” he replies easily.
Slipping my gloved hands in my pockets, I notice the train slowing. The automated voice begins announcing our arrival at the Fullerton station. Trey’s eyes focus in on my hands.
Slowly, I pull one hand from my pocket. Opening it, I ask, “Mint?” and extend my hand filled with cellophane-wrapped red and white striped candies.
He lets go of my arm. “No,” he frowns, looking at the mints in my hand like they’re poison.
Pulling my other hand quickly from my pocket and pressing the button, I ask, “Pepper spray?”
Jumping up on my seat, I continue to spray Trey, Jax and the other thug with my can of pepper spray. Seeing them clutch their hands to their eyes as they moan in pain, I fit myself between the handrails on my right and run out the door of the train, dropping the can as I go.
I run down the snow-covered stairs and clutch the handrail before jumping the last few steps to the sidewalk below. Looking around frantically, I spot a cab parked across the street. Not looking for cars, I step off the curb, hearing squealing tires as I do. Reaching the cab amid viciously honking horns, I open the door, diving onto the backseat. “Lincoln Park–Diversey and Clark,” I pant the cross streets to the driver. “I’m in a hurry,” I add, pulling a twenty from my wallet and flashing it at him.
The taxi peels away from the curb. Looking out the back window, I scan the area for Trey and his buddies. I don’t see them, so maybe they didn’t get off the train. Sitting back in my seat, I close my eyes as I tremble in fear.
CHAPTER 2
LUMIN
I pay the taxi driver as he pulls up at the corner of Diversey and Clark. I jump out of the cab, looking rapidly up both sides of the street for anything suspicious. Seeing nothing, I hurry past the drugstore, bookstore, and drycleaner. I pull my keys from the pocket of my backpack and open the outer door next to the drycleaner.
I make sure the door locks behind me after I step inside. I take a deep breath to try to calm the ache of fear in my chest. I haven’t been this scared since I climbed out of a second-story window and jumped from the run-down apartment where I once lived. I hadn’t felt the impact of hitting the ground then. It’d been nothing compared to the beating I’d just received. But I remember the fear. I just can’t remember if it was fear that I’d die in the fall...or fear that I’d live.
I bypass the elevator because it’s slower than a cab in rush hour and walk to the stairwell. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, I peek out, looking at the door of my apartment near the end of the hall. The hall’s empty. Taking a deep breath, I walk to my door and unlock it. Pushing it closed behind me, I turn the dead bolt and secure the chain to it. Leaning against the door, I close my eyes, running my hand through my hair and feeling dampness from the melted snow.
“Kricket!” Bridget calls from the end of the hall that leads to the one room of our studio apartment. I jump, not expecting Bridget to be up so early on a Saturday morning.
“Bridge,” I exhale, trying to calm my racing heart. “What’re you doing up?” I ask, seeing that she’s dressed nicely in a designer skirt and top that we found at the Salvation Army. It looks great on her because she has a bangin’ body.
“I’m packing. Eric talked me into going to his parents’ house a couple days early, since I don’t have to work this weekend. I’m so glad you’re home. I need your opinion. Do you think I should take this skirt…or is it too short for the suburbanites?” She tucks her long dark hair behind her ear before holding up a small, black-leather skirt to her slim waist.
“Honestly?” I shake my head. “I mean, you’re meeting Mom and Dad…Dad might like it, but Mom. Will. Freak.”
Biting her lip, she stomps her foot and whines, “You’re right. Are you sure you can’t come with me?”
I shake my head slowly. “You’re gonna be fine…they’re going to love you, Bridget.”
Her fingers twist in agitation. “Yeah…until the long silence comes after they ask me what my parents do and I tell them my dad’s doing a mandatory twenty for armed robbery,” she replies, grimacing.
“Maybe you don’t have to tell them. Maybe you can just say you haven’t seen him lately because he’s upstate,” I reply.
Bridget flails her arms. “You see, I need you there. You’re like a diplomat or something.”
“You’ll be okay, just keep your eyes open. Watch what his mom does and follow her lead. If she eats her soup with a fork, then you eat your soup with a fork,” I advise her. “Just like we used to in juvie.”
“Who eats soup with a fork?” Bridget asks, looking confused.
“Not the point. I’m just saying, when in Rome…” I trail off.
Bridget’s brow wrinkles. “They eat soup with a fork in Rome?” she asks, and I laugh.
“Uh, forget the soup. Just have a good time and relax. Hipster Eric likes you.” I peel off my jumpsuit and throw it in the hamper. Finding a pair of pajama bottoms in my closet, I put them on.
Bridget’s dark eyes narrow, “You should stop calling him ‘Hipster Eric’ ‘cuz you’re gonna slip one of these days.”
“You really like him, huh?” I ask, seeing her try to hide it.
“He keeps asking me to move in with him,” Bridget replies with a faux-casual shrug, watching my reaction. “But, you’ve been to his place. It’s completely ridic. I’m not the kind of girl who can live somewhere like that…it’s too…nice.” She wrinkles her nose, like “nice” is a bad thing.
Something in my heart twists. Bridget is my only family. I want her to be happy. She deserves nice—she deserves love. But, if she moves in with Eric, I’m completely screwed. I can’t live here without a roommate. “I don’t know, Bridge, I think you’d do all right with nice. Enrique thinks he might be looking to move out. He might need a roommate,” I say casually. It’s only a half lie because he did say that Michael would get him tossed out.
“Really?” Bridget asks, looking happy as she tucks her brown hair behind her ear.
“Yeah,” I nod, trying to smile.
She tries to hide her relief from me by lowering her eyes. “Well, I’m still thinking about it. I want to see how this week goes. I may not be able to handle being with his family,” she says honestly. I nod absently, my mind tumbling over itself with the ramification of what this means for me.
A knock sounds on the door, making me jump. “That must be Eric. He wants to get on the road before the traffic hits,” Bridget says, heading for the door.