Wrong Side of Town (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Estella

My feet were dragging on Wednesday at school.

Sometimes it got hard pretending that everything was fine when it really wasn’t. My friends knew a little about my home life, but they weren’t aware of the full extent of it. No one was. Not even Nate and Anna. I planned on keeping it that way. They both had enough to worry about without having to worry about me.

The skin on my left arm was itching a lot today. I wanted to blame it on the material of my sweater, but I knew that wasn’t the reason. It was a psychological thing; whenever I was particularly stressed, that exact same spot would itch. It had happened without fail for the past two and a half years.

I stopped walking when I saw my two best friends heading down the hall towards me. Mariah Brand easily stood out with her deep shade of red hair that was thick and curly whereas Lana spent painstaking hours straightening hers. Hadassah Swinton—better known as Hadie—was short and petite with brown hair. She was usually full of smiles, but that had changed recently.

“Hey, Estee.” Even Mariah’s voice was void of its usual peppiness today.

The general mood amongst my group of friends had been pretty morose lately.  See, the thing was, our group of three had originally been four. Lana Buckley—who was also Mariah’s cousin—had recently had a falling out with her and we weren’t entirely sure where things stood with her right now. Mariah was really mad about it, especially because Lana was her cousin, and she couldn’t bring herself to forgive her.

As for Hadie, she was wonderful, kind, and selfless but last month she’d suffered something heartbreaking that had changed her. Some of the light that surrounded her had dimmed a little and she was forever changed. For a while, it’d seemed like she was pulling through it thanks to this guy in our grade, Eddie Cavallari, but lately she’d been withdrawing and pushing everyone away.

That was why I didn’t want to dredge up my problems and make things worse when they were already bad enough for my friends. There was only so much a bunch of seventeen-year-old girls could handle.

“Hey, Ray,” I responded in a flat tone, calling Mariah by the nickname we’d coined for her in elementary school.

Ray flashed me a smile that I could barely bring myself to return. “How did your job interview go?”

That was another topic that I wanted to avoid. “Yeah, it was fine. I got the job.” I tried to act like it was no big deal and Ray didn’t seem interested enough to ask about it further.

Besides, Hadie’s well-being was more important than discussing my tutoring job. Her eyes had been glassy the entire time and that wasn’t a good sign. It meant that she was thinking about the one thing that was killing her inside.

“Hadie,” I said in a gentle tone, “how are you?”

“Huh?” She looked up at me, startled. Her eyes were watery, and I couldn’t help myself; I reached out and wrapped my arms around her.

At first she was tense, but eventually she relaxed against me. “I love you,” I whispered, “and if you need me, I’m here. Always.”

Hadie didn’t respond, and that was okay. I just needed her to know, needed to remind her, that she wasn’t alone. The worst feeling in the world was one of complete and utter loneliness where you felt like no one understands you and that no matter how loud you cry and scream, no one will come and rescue you.

When I released her, Hadie seemed a little more at ease, and that made me feel better. It made me feel better knowing that I could help someone else, even if I couldn’t help myself. Helping others made me momentarily forget that I had problems of my own—problems that nightmares were made of.

And, right on cue, the skin of my left arm began to itch again.

***

That night, we didn’t have anything to eat.

The only thing I’d managed to find in the cupboard were two cans—one was tuna and the other was diced tomatoes. We didn’t have bread or rice or pasta, but I still made an Italian-style sauce.

Despite the lack of carbohydrates to soak up the sauce, Anna and I scoffed it down because we were so hungry. We probably would’ve finished it all, but I saved some for Dad like I always did. I wasn’t too sure where he was tonight, but he got angry when there wasn’t food waiting for him when he got home.

Once we were done eating, we stood side by side at the kitchen sink and did the dishes together in silence. Normally, Anna would talk non-stop, but after the ordeal with Dad yesterday, I think she was just as exhausted as I was.

Afterwards, Anna pressed two fifty dollar bills into my hand. I stared at her in surprise, not sure what she was trying to pay me for.

“It’s the money Seth gave me yesterday,” she said impatiently. “Just take it, okay? We need food or we’ll starve.”

We did need food, but I still wanted to argue with her on this. I wanted to argue with her for taking money from Seth and for making me take it now. Except, she was right. We would starve without food, and I didn’t tutor until Friday. That was still two days away.

“Okay, I’m taking it,” I said in defeat. “But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“You can’t do everything yourself, Estee. Sometimes you have to accept help from other people.”

I couldn’t even begin to explain to Savannah how important it was for me to do everything myself. That there was no one in this world who could truly help me or the people I loved, which was why I had to do it.

When Savannah headed out with her friends, I took a quick shower and, afterwards, just stood there and stared at myself in the mirror. I stared at myself and wondered why everything was so wrong in my life and why bad things happened to my family. First Dad lost his job and gambled our savings; then Mom left and I was forever changed

My eyes shot to the scar on my arm and I allowed hot tears to burn my eyes and fall down my face. I stood there a little longer until the lump in my throat dissolved and I could focus on my scar without blurred eyes.

Then I went into my room and grabbed the permanent marker from my desk and wrote over the disfiguration until the dark strokes and my skin were one and the same.

***

The rest of the week dragged by, and I was relieved when Friday finally came around.

Sure, I was somewhat wary at being employed by a Madden, but I was doing this to help my family. Besides, I couldn’t help but be a little curious of the notorious Madden family. It wasn’t every day that you got an inside look into their lives.

After school, Mariah drove me to Penthill and talked endlessly about her boyfriend, Connor, so I didn’t really need to say much. I was thankful for Ray’s chatter because it gave me time to think about how I would act around Vincent.

I still had mixed feelings about him. On one hand, I knew I should be afraid of him, but on the other, I couldn’t ignore the anxious butterflies that exploded inside my stomach whenever he got close to me.

Normally, I didn’t take much of an interest in boys—I usually just avoided them and turned down the ones that did ask me out—but Vincent intrigued me. I wasn’t sure what it was about him, but I wanted to get to know him. At the same time, I wanted to stay away from him. These feelings he stirred inside of me were terrifying.

Anyway, I wasn’t the type of girl I expected him to go for. He probably found me about as interesting as a rubber pot plant. The way I dressed—long, baggy clothing, even in summer--was to keep wandering eyes off me. Despite, my best efforts, people still commented on my appearance and insisted that I could be a model, but I could never do anything that put me in the spotlight like that.

No. My body needed to stay covered. There was a scar burned into it that I never wanted anyone to see.

All I wanted to do was keep my head down, study hard, and get a scholarship to college. Then I could make a better life for myself and for Savannah.

When Mariah pulled into the parking lot of the library, Vincent was already there. This time, though, there was no truck. Instead, Vincent was leaning against a black motorcycle with his bare arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you think he’s one of the Madden gang?” Mariah asked, staring out the window at Vincent. “I hope not. He’s pretty hot.”

“Yes, he is.”

Ray turned to me in surprise, looking like she’d run into a brick wall. “Seriously? You think he’s hot?”

“No! I mean, yes, he is, but that’s not what I meant.” I felt embarrassed that I was acting so silly when it came to admitting that Vincent was attractive. “I meant, yes, he is in the Madden gang.”

I must’ve sounded pretty confident, because Mariah picked up on it. “How do you know? Have you seen him with the Madden gang before?”

Not meeting her eye, I reached over to the backseat of the car and grabbed my bag. “He’s an actual Madden, and he’s also my boss.”

“What? Shut the fuck up!” Mariah grasped my shoulder before I could even open up the door. “Is this your idea of a joke? Because it’s not funny.”

Sighing, I turned to face her. “No, Ray, I’m not joking. Vincent Madden is my boss. I tutor his little brother, Dylan.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m not even sure I know what I’m doing.”

“No shit!”

The wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression on Ray’s face was quite comical, but I barely had time to register it because all of a sudden, the door was pulled open and I almost fell out from the weight of Mariah’s hand pushing into my shoulder.

My world quickly tilted upwards—I saw the ceiling of Ray’s car, the doorframe, and then obsidian eyes before falling against Vincent’s firm chest.

“Oh!” I cried, feeling my face heat up.

With all honesty, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Vincent had a ridiculous effect on me every time he got too close. It was like there was an unspoken line between us that neither of us dared to cross, but sometimes we tested the waters just to get a taste of what the other side was like.

“You were taking a long time,” Vincent said, as though that was supposed to explain why my head was practically in his lap. “I thought maybe this girl was holding you hostage or something.”

“You could call it that,” I grumbled, as Vincent pushed me upright, so I was once again staring at Ray’s awestruck face. Well, that’s what her expression looked like, anyway. It could’ve been fear for all I knew.

“Whatever,” Vincent said, stepping away from the car. “Hurry up. You’re late.”

Irritation blossomed and slapped me in the chest, and I scrambled out of the car. “I go to this thing every weekday. It’s called school.”

Vincent didn’t say anything. Instead, he stuck his middle finger to acknowledge that he’d heard me.

Jerk!

“Estee! Are you sure you wanna go with him?” I was so annoyed with Vincent that I’d forgotten to shut the car door or say anything to Mariah.

When I turned back to Mariah, she was leaning so far across the passenger seat, staring at Vincent, that I was sure she was going to snap her seatbelt in half.

Fixing her with a reassuring smile, I grabbed my bag and shut the door. “It’s okay. If he was going to do anything to me, he would’ve done it by now.”

“He’s a Madden!” Mariah shrieked, as though that was her winning argument.

“I’m fine, Ray, honestly. We’ll talk about it later.”

Mariah stared at me as though I had lost my mind, but she could tell there was no way she’d change my mind, especially since I was technically known as the responsible one in our group of friends.

“So, do I pick you up from here?”

Before I could respond, Vincent spoke from somewhere behind me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take you home when you’re done.”

He was closer than I’d expected, and his voice sent a line of tingles running right down my spine. When I turned around, he was standing right behind me.

“You’re taking me home?”

Vincent gave me a casual shrug. “I figured I might as well pick up my jacket while I’m there.”

I turned back to Mariah, trying to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t sure if I wanted Vincent knowing where I lived. Then again, he was in a criminal gang, so I’m sure he had ways of finding these things out. He probably already knew my address, my date of birth, and the name of my first grade teacher.

“Jacket?” Mariah mouthed at me, looking as though she might pass out.

I waved her off. “I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

Mariah shot me daggers. “You better freaking call me.” She didn’t say anything to Vincent as she straightened back into her seat again.

As I turned back to Vincent, he started walking back towards his bike again and I hurried up to match his quick strides.

“Where’s Dylan? Is he already inside?” My eyes sought out the adorable blonde-haired boy who looked so different to his brother.

“He’s at home.” Vincent reached his motorcycle and grabbed the helmet hanging from the back.

I stopped walking. “So, when is he coming here?”

“He’s not. We’re going to him.” Vincent turned and tossed me the helmet.

The helmet fell into my open hands, but I didn’t put it on. I just kept staring at Vincent as he climbed onto his bike and gunned the engine.