Sneering, I take a step back. “Pay the fuck attention to what you’re doing. I can’t torment you if you’re dead.” Distance is what I need right now. I don’t really care about her, it’s just my sick obsession with getting revenge that has things twisted.
Kennedy exhales, her chest deflating. “What… What were you doing here? Were you following me?”
My lips tip up at the sides in a half-smile. “I’m always following you, Kennedy. Always watching you. Pay attention,” I tell her one last time before shoving my hands into my pockets and walking away. I leave her standing there because the alternative isn’t something I want to face right now. Kennedy can’t matter to me. She can’t become anything more than revenge. Not now, and not ever.
8
Kennedy
I replay the moment in my mind over and over again. The van almost hit me. Just another step, and I would’ve been gone, my life over. I still don’t know how I feel about it. For a long time, I felt like I should die, that I would do anything to trade spots with Jillian. I’ve never feared death. Instead, I’ve always hovered on the verge of welcoming it… until now. Since that almost hit the other day, I don’t think I want to die anymore.
Even more confusing is the fact that Jackson pulled me away when I figured he would have been the one to give me a push. Why did he do it? Why didn’t he just let me walk into the street? Isn’t that what he wanted… me dead?
“That’s it for today,” Mrs. Bay says, dragging me out of my thoughts, dismissing the class. “Assignments are due next week. Don’t be late because if you are, I’m deducting ten points for each day.”
I grab my book and notebook and stuff it into my backpack before getting up from my seat. Walking out, I spot two girls who were sitting beside me in the classroom. They spent most of the class gawking at me and whispering to each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were looking at my scar. I should be used to it, especially now that I’ve stopped wearing makeup, but I don’t think I ever will be. The reminder of it all hurts too much.
Shaking it off, I walk past them and out the door, but not before I hear one of them say, “I heard she wrecked her car while driving drunk. Killed someone too.”
“She should be in jail, not college...”
Their words steal the air from my lungs. How do they know about the accident? About Jillian? Pain slices through me, but I force my legs to keep walking. The ground moves beneath my feet, and suddenly I feel like I can’t get away fast enough.
Holding onto the straps of my backpack with an iron grip, I start running down the hallway until I burst through the doors leading outside. I run and run until my lungs burn and my legs cramp up. Until I’m gasping for air, and my vision becomes blurry with tears. And even then, I continue running because if I stop, I’m afraid of what might happen.
I have to force myself to go to my next class. At least I had four hours between my little breakdown and now. Even though I feel like my eyes are still puffy from crying, I walk into economics class with my head held high. No one seems to notice me as I walk in, which is fine by me. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. Taking the last seat in the back row, I pull out my book and notepad and set everything out neatly in front of me.
Grabbing my pencil, I tap it against my notepad anxiously.
I really don’t mean to eavesdrop as I wait for the teacher to start the class, but when I hear Jackson’s name come up in the conversation between two guys sitting a row ahead of me, I stop tapping the pencil and listen instead.
“Why would he fight again this week? He only had a fight last week, and he never does more than one fight a month,” one guy says, searching through his backpack for something.
His friend shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m telling you, Jackson is gonna fight Boris tonight, Franco made a big announcement last night. I want to go just to see how crazy it is.”
The first guy finds whatever he was looking for and slumps down into his seat. “Boris? That guy is huge, and he fights dirty. Brings knives and shit. Jackson is gonna get his ass handed to him. Fuck, he’ll be lucky if he comes out of the pit alive. Boris is crazy, and he’ll do anything to win.” The pencil slides from my fingers and rolls off the table. I should probably bend down and get it, but I’m momentarily petrified.
Fear has its hold on my throat, making it hard to breathe. Jackson is going to get hurt. Why would he get into fights like that on purpose? Why would he put himself in danger like that? Doesn’t he know all it would take is one hit to the head, and he could die?
Does he want to die?
The teacher starts the class, but my mind is somewhere else. I can’t focus on anything that is being said. All I can think about is this fight that Jackson is going to be in with this Boris guy and how dangerous it all is. I know he hates me, and he has every right to do so, but I don’t hate him. Maybe I thought I did. I wanted to, but I never did… I’m not sure I could, even if he scares me and tries to make my life hell. The last thing I want is for anything to happen to him.
I need to warn him.
Now the real question is, will he listen to me? I doubt it, but I have to try.
The class flies by even though I don’t listen much to what is being taught. I’m too busy trying to figure out how to find Jackson. I don’t have his number, and I don’t know where he lives. I guess my only chance is to go to that place the pit and hope I catch him before it’s too late. He’ll either hate me more or thank me. Either way, it’s a risk that I have to take.
When class is dismissed, I tap the guy in front of me on the shoulder. I try to hide how nervous I am when he turns, giving me a questioning look.
“Hey, sorry… I overheard you earlier. Ah… talking about the fight? Where exactly is that at?”
The guy raises a skeptical eyebrow at me, and for a moment, I don’t think he is going to answer me at all. “The pit. It’s in an old warehouse in the industrial park.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.”
His friend has also turned around and is looking at me now. I can feel his eyes burning into my face.
“Want me to take you there?” the new guy asks, giving me a wide smile. “I’m going anyway, so it’s not a hassle.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I say while gathering my stuff up. “I’m not sure if I’m gonna go yet, it’s not really my kind of scene.”
The guy frowns. “It starts soon. You sure you don’t want to come with us?” He’s good looking, and obviously cares about his classes since from the looks of it, he’s been taking notes all hour, but I don’t want to make friends, much less get a boyfriend, and I know if I said yes, even for a ride, that’s what he would think. That or sex, which isn’t going to happen.
“No, I’m good. Thanks again,” I tell him as I brush by him and speed walk out the door.
I remember seeing the industrial park on the map I studied when I first got here. It would probably take me a good hour to walk there, but calling an Uber or getting into the car with anyone who isn’t my parents is out of the question. Cars are a hard no for me. I’d rather walk three hours than get into a car and drive thirty minutes.