The sly grin fell from his lips, and his eyes darted from side to side. Then he sighed and gave me the first genuine look I’d ever seen on his face. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. You said you’d think about it when I mentioned it last. I didn’t know you weren’t paying attention. The organizers just wanted me to put a little sweetener on top, extra money, bitches, that kind of thing. They really want you, man. They think your history would add an extra . . . element to the entertainment.”
They thought the fact I’d killed someone would make the fight more interesting—in case I did it again. Scum-sucking pond dwellers.
I looked over his shoulder and spotted a dark SUV parked a few cars down, the two hard-looking middle-aged motherfuckers inside not even hiding the fact they were watching us.
“What the fuck are you mixed up in, Shady?”
“It’s not my scene, man.” He leaned in even more, lowered his voice further. “You know how I said Davey’s is kind of a neutral ground? Well, I’m not the only one who hangs out there, if you get my drift? Not the only one who does business there. These guys who run the fights . . .” He sighed and shook his head. “I try to steer clear of them, but they noticed we hung out and . . . persuaded me to persuade you, if you know what I mean.” He shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ll tell them you’re not interested. I’ll take care of it.”
I’d never seen Shady scared of anything. I knew he was into some dodgy-as-fuck stuff, that a lot of people were afraid of him, so the fact that he was doing someone else’s bidding . . . a cold dread settled in my stomach. For Shady and what kind of danger he was in. For Donna and what she was walking into every time she went there.
“Would it help if I made it clear I wasn’t interested?” I flicked my eyes over his shoulder so he knew I’d spotted our audience.
He watched me for a second, then gave a tiny nod.
I grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and shoved him back. “Never ask me that again! We’re done, you lowlife son of a bitch,” I bellowed.
He held his hands up and grinned at me, walking backward, then dropped a serious look onto his face before turning around.
I let the rage show on my face as I got into my car, slammed the door, and sped off as angrily as I could manage in an electric car that was whisper quiet.
The little bit of hope my conversation with Turner had given me—that not everyone would see me as a violent monster—was smashed to pieces, its jagged remnants left on the curb where I’d spoken with Shady.
As I parked the car and trudged into the house—my body sore from my punishing workout, my shoulders sagging from the crushing despair—I didn’t know what to think anymore. Which side of the fence would Donna land on once she calmed down? She had said nice things when I’d poured my heart out to her at the park, but did she mean them?
On top of that, the run-in with Shady had shaken me. I kept running over the entire day’s events, my mind twisting every single look, every single word, until I had no idea what was real anymore.
My aunt was on me before I even finished taking my shoes off.
“Hey.” She leaned against the archway leading to the kitchen, a steaming bowl in her hands. “Want some ramen while you tell me every single detail of your day?” She grinned, then slurped some noodles into her mouth.
I dropped my school bag and my gym bag to the floor and sagged against the wall, not even trying to hide the despair on my face.
Hannah’s eyes widened, and she abandoned the bowl on the kitchen island before rushing to my side. “Hendrix? What happened?”
So many things . . . but there was only one my mind couldn’t seem to stop obsessing over.
“I told someone what I did. All of it. I didn’t hold back.”
“And?”
“And she threw it back in my face.” It was so much more complicated than that, so much else had happened, but I was just so tired. I didn’t have the energy to explain it all.
“Oh, Hendrix.” She took my hand, cocking her head to the side and looking at me with pity. “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t want her pity, nor did I deserve it.
“Today feels like it’s been three years long. I’m so tired. Can we please talk about it tomorrow?” I begged.
She nodded and gave me a watery smile. “Come eat something.”
I squeezed her hand and followed her into the kitchen. I didn’t deserve her kindness either, or her ramen, but I was broken, and I’d take it anyway.
After an almost sleepless night, I made my way to school the next morning still with no idea what to do next—about Donna, about Shady, about how ridiculously complicated my life had become. This was exactly why I’d wanted to keep to myself in Devilbend. But I’d failed even at that.
I was tired and deep in my own dark thoughts, so it wasn’t until walking up the main stairs to the entrance that I noticed how everyone was acting.
People were steering clear of me, but that wasn’t anything new. What was new were the looks they were throwing me, the hushed whispers. Students were glancing in my direction, wide-eyed, but looking away just as fast. Some of the younger students even turned around and rushed away when they spotted me.
A heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach. I rushed up the rest of the stairs and into the school, ready to deal with whatever fresh hell was coming my way next.
Inside the doors, I came to a complete stop, the blood in my veins turning to ice. My eyes made a slow sweep of the hall as I let it all sink in, including the looks on everyone’s faces, and then I took off again.
There was only one person who could’ve done this.
Practically snarling at anyone who got in my way, I stalked through the school with a single-minded purpose—find Donna Mead.
I was going to wrap my hands around her delicate little neck, and not in the way her freaky ass liked. I wanted to feel her throat under my palms as I squeezed the air out of her. I wanted to feel those fragile bones snap under my hands. It was the only way to make her pay for this—the only way to make sure that bitch never hurt someone with her petty, privileged attitude again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Donna
I tore the paper down and crumpled it, already rushing to the next one. My hands were full of large torn-down photocopied pages, and as the newest one fell to the ground, I cursed and jogged to the nearest trash can. I was only halfway up the corridor, frantically darting from one side of the lockers to the other to get them all down before more people showed up, before Hendrix saw it.
Logically, I knew it was pointless. They were all over the school, every wall of every corridor covered in identical posters that read, “Hendrix Hawthorn is a killer.” The words were in red, stark against several newspaper clippings all photocopied over one another like some macabre collage.
Had someone overheard us talking in the park? I was pretty sure Hendrix hadn’t told anyone else in Devilbend about it. Who could’ve done this? Who would go to this much effort? I racked my brain the entire time I attacked the red-and-black paper, ignoring papercut after papercut in my futile effort to stop this from happening to him.
The only other person I was certain knew was Harlow. After Drew dropped me off at my car the day before, I’d driven straight home. Magda was in the kitchen, stirring a giant pot of something that smelled delicious. She wanted me to taste it, and usually I would have been more than happy to, but I told her I had to go to the bathroom and went straight upstairs.