Page 41 of Tainted Love

As morning creeps in, I gently lift myself off the bed and exit her room, but not before I leave the note I wrote last night when I should have been learning about inertia.

DEAR PSYCHOPATH,

PLEASE DON’T PUT NAIR IN THE SHAMPOO. I LIKE TO USE IT TO JERK OFF. THAT COULD CAUSE IRREPARABLE DAMAGE.

The icy glare I receive over breakfast tells me she read the note. The way she stabs her pancake with her fork tells me she didn’t find it amusing. I wasn’t lying, though. That’s become my favorite lube, and the fact that it smells like her makes it all the more appealing.

We don’t talk about anything of consequence on the drive to school. Sascha sits stoically in the passenger seat of my truck while we listen to the current hits. New Kids on the Block are singing about “Hanging Tough,” which sparks an idea about our upcoming talent show at school.

I talked the guys into doing it, even Landry, that broody fuck. I love the guy, but I’m never sure what he’s thinking. He says he doesn’t have to talk when he’s with me because I do enough talking for everyone.

“What are you smiling at?” Sascha asks, giving me a side-eye from the seat next to me.

“I didn’t realize I was,” I offer. “If it offends you, I can stop.”

She scoffs and continues looking out the window, probably weighing the odds of her survival if she jumps out of the truck.

“I was thinking about the talent show,” I reply.

“Ugh. I’m not going. I hate that stuff.”

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s the same people doing the same boring shit. And the talent part is sorely lacking.”

“So why don’t you do something?”

“I do. I play my flute. No one ever comes to our concerts.”

She’s allowed me momentary access to a piece of her life that she keeps hidden—her vulnerable side. She acts like she doesn’t care, but it bothers her that people don’t pay more attention to things that matter to her—like the band. Unsurprisingly, sports like football and hockey drive the booster money and get more attention than extracurriculars like band.

As soon as we park, Sascha jumps out of the car and makes a beeline for Ivy, who’s marching toward her. People have begun noticing that we’re arriving together, so I’m sure Ivy wants to know what’s happening. I haven’t told the boys what’s been going on, and they’ve been patient, but I will need to be honest.

“What’s up, boys?” I say casually as I saunter over to my group of friends. Delzy tilts his head toward Sascha with raised eyebrows, indicating he wants to know what’s happening.

“So, yeah. I live with Sascha Bell now,” I say, and then walk away, leaving them standing there with their mouths gaping open.

Corey and Landry share a look at lunch when I decide to put them out of their misery and explain what’s been going on.

“I’m going to beat your brother’s ass,” Delzy offers.

“No, you’re not,” Landry says. “Because I am.”

I shake my head. This is why I wanted to keep things under the radar for a while. “Neither of you are going to do shit. Do you understand?”

Landry leans back in his seat and meets my stare. Of all of us, he’s the last one I’d ever want to fuck with. It’s always the quiet ones, you know? “I’m serious, you guys. It’s not worth it. I’m out of there. I want it to be done.”

“What about your dad?” Corey asks.

“Haven’t heard a word from him,” I reply.

“Piece of shit,” Landry says under his breath.

“Look,” I say. “I’ve made my peace with the hand I was dealt regarding family. It’s fine. I’m lucky to have you and the Bell family helping me. I don’t need anything else.”

“If you’re sure,” Delzy says. “But if they fuck with you, you better tell us.”

“I will,” I say.