I clear my throat, my lips curling between my teeth. “I am. Somewhat.”
“What makes you second-guess that?” I need him to back up from me.
I want to say you! You fucking make me second-guess that, but instead, I shake my head.
He pushes back, squaring his shoulders. “We’ll see about that.” He leaves, and I watch as he disappears into the darkness of the RV. The only light illuminating the area is the bulb on the roof.
Justice stretches his arms above his head, yawning. He catches me staring and cuts his yawn short. “Little Bird, you all right?” He has an accent, and I have no idea what it is. Scottish, maybe? It seems almost gypsy-like. Maybe it’s just some weird hybrid accent from traveling so much.
“Yeah.” I stand from my bed, grabbing my phone and shoving it into my back pocket. I make my way down the RV. “What usually happens from here?”
He rolls his shoulders. “Well, we drink while the construction crew sets up.”
“The construction crew?”
“Yep!” He moves into the kitchen and takes a bottle of water out of the fridge. “We don’t do any of the labor. We all have to…” He pauses, takes a sip, and momentarily thinks over what he’s about to say next. “Reserve our energy for the show.” He disappears behind me without saying goodbye. What even is this show? Everyone has made it clear that it’s not a circus because they don’t have animals, but I can’t call it a carnival either because they don’t have rides. What is Midnight Mayhem? Aside from the midnight folklore myth that Killian shared with me?
After throwing on warmer clothes, tight skinny jeans, Uggs, and an army green utility jacket with warm fur—fake, I hope—around the collar, I make my way outside to find Rose. The RVs are lined up beside each other, with just enough space to give some privacy, but ours is more to the back, hidden behind a large honey locust tree. Its branches float over the RV, curving around it as a form of shade. There are a few guys who are setting up the small solar lights, lining each RV’s walkway, and I find myself watching them watch me. I offer a small smile, but they all quickly look away, as if they’ve been caught doing something that is forbidden.
“Hey!” I call out to a young girl who is bending over to shove a light into the grass near ours. She stands and turns toward me slowly, her eyes lighting up briefly. “Do you know where I can find Midnight’s RV?”
The girl tilts her head, eyes searching mine. Her mouth opens, but just as she’s about to say something, another man is behind her, his hand securely placed on her arm.
His eyes remain on mine as he says, “Ariana, go and help with the tent.” His lip is curled, his face harsh, but his words are soft, the tension reduced for the small girl.
She gazes up at me pleadingly, and then her head falls between her shoulders, and she dashes off down the already lit pathway.
I bring my attention back to the man. “Well, do you know where I can find them?”
His arms fold in front of his chest, taking an intimidating stance. “You have no place here, witch.”
Just as I’m about to ask him what the shit he’s talking about, my phone vibrates in my back pocket.
I pull it out, ignoring him and turning back to find my own way. It’s a text from Rose, explaining how to get to their RV.
I follow her instructions, finding the large tent not far away, deflated and spread across the grass. I wonder how long they go on the road for, and why I’ve never heard of them before. I need to make sure I do some research on Google the second I’m away from everyone and in my bed.
“Dove!” Rose calls out, and I turn to face her. She’s waving near Midnight’s purple RV. There’s a small fire pit set up outside of it and chairs circled around it. I can see that all of the Midnight girls are there and a big part of me wishes I didn’t come. I should have stayed in bed, away from people. Before I can think of a valid excuse to leave, Rose is bouncing toward me, her arm hooking into mine.
“They’re not so bad. I mean, the other three. Val is a fucking bitch, and I wouldn’t test her, if you know what I mean,” she whispers in my ear right before we reach them.
I smile at all of them as I approach, every bit uncomfortable.
“Hey!” A brunette girl stands, handing me a drink. “I’m Mischa!” She points to the dark-haired girl who is seated beside her. “And that is Maya.” She brushes her hand toward the blonde, who is seated on the other side of the fire, staring at me with her head tilted and her legs crossed. I mean, she’s beautiful, but they’re all contrastingly beautiful. “And that’s Val, but she’s a bitch, so you don’t need to know her. Come sit!”
Maya watches me from her seat, her eyes wary. She’s quiet. I think I like her.
“So, how are you finding it?” Mischa sparks the conversation. I’m thankful for that.
“Ah, let’s see. I was kidnapped, and then—”
“What she means is that she’ll settle in,” Rose interrupts, squeezing my arm.
I tilt my head at her, before dropping down in the chair beside Maya.
Mischa and Rose continue talking, and I pretend to suck down my sour drink. Fucking margaritas. In this weather? No, thanks. Placing the cup back onto my lap, I watch as Mischa goes off about some guy she was seeing and she and Rose continue an easy conversation.
Maya is relaxed beside me, and it’s not until I smell the sweet smoke of marijuana that I know why. Maya is half African American with long dark hair. She has exotic features with almond eyes and thick eyelashes. Eyelashes that I would honestly kill for. She’s wearing boyfriend jeans and a hoodie with the hood over her head.
“You know, it’s rude to stare.” Maya flicks the ash off her joint.
“Yeah,” I say, looking back to a now silent Rose. “I know.”
Maya is different. I see that. I can’t exactly imagine her in skimpy clothes and doing the splits on stage.
“You’re not drinking your drink, Dove,” Val interrupts. She tilts her head to the side, and I watch as the flames from the fire flicker, creating shadows over her jaw. “Why is that?”
I shrug. “I—”
“Just don’t drink.” Kingston snatches the glass from me. My heart pounds in my chest, but rage burns in my belly. All of the feelings of seeing King eventually end like an angry rapid gushing at the bottom of my stomach.
I ignore him and the other three who make themselves comfortable around the fire. King sits on the grass opposite me, bringing the glass to his mouth while keeping his eyes on mine. I watch as he slowly tilts my margarita up and swallows it in one gulp. I expected something. Maybe some disgust. Since when could guys stomach a margarita?
Killian pulls over a chair and takes a seat beside Val, propping a boombox on the ground. He flicks through his phone and hits play on an R&B song I recognize. “Antisocial” by Ed Sheeran and a rapper. The beat kicks in, and Killian winks at Maya. “Your song, aye, boo?”
Maya flips him off, blazing up another joint. “Be nice, or you can get your own ganja.”
I’m a big people-watcher. I’ve never been a talker, and a lot of people have said that they assumed I was a snob. I’m not. I’m just quiet. Too many people are quick to spew words and don’t take enough time to think before doing it. I’d rather watch people. How they speak, hold themselves, and what they say and the manner in which they say it. I guess some think that’s creepy. Maya and Killian, though, I could cut their sexual connection with a blunt knife. They’re saying a lot, by not saying anything at all.