Page 12 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
I feel like I'm imagining it, but his face seems a little less pale, his cheeks a bit pinker. I touch my fingers to the wound on my own arm, but I don’t want Whitney distracted with my injuries when she needs to be keeping an eye on Aaron. My face is going to scar, I think, but I push the thought back. It isn’t important, not right now anyway.
Although when I next have a dark moment alone with Billie Charter, I’m going to kill her.
Make no mistake about that.
After a while, I end up curled on the couch beside Aaron, my head resting against his chest, just so I can make sure his heart is still beating, that he’s still breathing. That he’s still around for me to hate. Part of me wonders what I’d do if I lost him now, how I’d react. For someone I supposedly despise, I sure have a lot of feelings on the matter.
When Vic appears several hours later, he pauses in the living room and gives his friend an assessing look.
“What are his chances?” he demands, and it's quite clear that he's addressing Nurse Yes-Scott and not us.
“He seems stable enough,” she says, checking Aaron’s blood pressure for the umpteenth time. “He's going to need time to heal, and he'll scar, but—”
“I don't give a shit about scarring. Will he live?” Vic demands, lighting up a cigarette of his own and making Whitney frown dramatically.
“He'll live. As far as gunshot wounds go, it isn't overly serious. Likely, his poor condition is a result of pushing too hard and refusing to seek medical treatment right away. But I really should insist that you have him see a doctor—”
“I don't give a fuck what you insist,” Vic says, moving over to stand beside her. The look on her face is priceless. Two parts fear and one part, sickening, disgusting lust. Guess she likes ‘em young, same as Principal Vaughn. They deserve to share a coffin together, preferably sometime soon. If only the devil worked on karma. Too bad nothing about life is fair. “Hael, Cal, load Aaron up and let's go.”
“What am I supposed to do about all of this blood?” Whitney whines as Hael and Cal gingerly lift their friend between them, carrying him to the door. I move ahead of them, opening it wide, and pausing just briefly before following them out, so I can hear Victor's answer.
“You’re going to clean it up,” he says, crouching low next to Nurse Yes-Scott and putting his lips near her ear. “And then you’re going to erase this night from your memory. If you choose to do anything outside of that plan, I’ll send the most depraved men I know to pay you a little visit.” Vic stands up, staring down at Whitney’s wide eyes and quivering form with zero empathy. Her face is paler than Aaron's was when we first got here. “Oh, and if you see Vaughn around, you tell him to fuck off. If I find out you’re entertaining him …” Victor just shakes his head, but he doesn’t need to say anything else. It’s quite clear from Whitney’s expression that his message was heard loud and clear.
Turning away, I head down the steps and open the sliding door to the minivan.
The sky is beginning to warm with color from the rising sun, a cheeky blush that annoys the shit out of me. How dare the day be threatening to start when the night seems so endless and bleak? That endlessness, it suits the situation. A gentle pink blush does not.
“Hey.” Vic grabs my chin, but I tear my face away from him, turning away to stare down the street, at a perfect row of suburban houses lined up like toys, dollhouses for people crafted of plastic dreams. I don't belong anywhere near here, not by a long shot. Aaron's dream of seeing me reach for the stars, like some sort of bullshit poster on the wall of an elementary school classroom, it was never going to happen for me. Even if I didn't have Heather to worry about. Even if I didn't drink darkness and sip pain. “He'll be okay, Bernie.”
“Yeah, but that doesn't mean we didn't kill a kid tonight,” I say, turning back to look at Vic. He just stands there, a mountain of muscle and immorality, and smiles tightly at me.
“What happens on All Hallows’ Eve, stays on All Hallows' Eve. Don't bring it up again.” He starts to move past me, but then grabs my face and presses a scalding kiss to my lips that has me thinking all sorts of depraved thoughts that don't belong in the middle of a crisis, thoughts that pertain to naked flesh and hungry mouths and roving hands. “That's not a request.”
Vic lets go of me and slips into the driver's side of the van. I hesitate only briefly before climbing in to join him.
