He quit the team the Monday after her funeral. His father was angry—they nearly came to blows over it. But Arden’s love for the game died with Amber. He kept on pranking though, in honor of all the times they did share together. And because it would piss his dad off more than anything else.

Explaining this to his half-sedated mother would be a wasted effort. She’s incapable of understanding anything with depth anymore, and his father refuses to—which is nothing new. Open communication has never been a Moss Family Tradition, but there used to be times when Arden could talk to his mother and she would truly listen. Those times are long gone, and he’s accepted that. It doesn’t even make him angry anymore.

Besides, he has more important things to worry about today than reconstructing burnt, debilitated bridges with his parents.

And her name is Carly Vega.

He grabs his truck keys and plants a kiss on his mom’s forehead. “Have a good day,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves. He’s surprised by how much he really means it.

His mother doesn’t respond.

*   *   *

Arden wanders around the outside picnic tables with a tray of cafeteria food that resembles rice mixed with mashed potatoes and topped with fish scales. He usually skips out on lunch and goes to Taco City a few streets down from the school with his friend Luke. But today he sent Luke away on his own. Because today is a special day. Today he has found a sidekick.

Luke doesn’t qualify for the job. He’s a yellow belly. Last time he accompanied Arden on one of his sprees, he got them caught and charged with trespassing. They’d planned to put a bunch of Butterball chickens into Eddie Revell’s coop after relocating the live chickens to the back of the farm for safekeeping. Except one of the live roosters pecked Luke on the leg. He screamed, which set off the dogs to barking, which alerted Revell that something was amiss, which made him get his freaking shotgun out and hold them hostage until the cops came. Luke had frozen, wouldn’t budge, and Arden wasn’t going to let him take the fall by himself.

Luke swore off going with him after that, which was a good thing, since Arden vowed to never take him along again.

Looking for her purple T-shirt, Arden finally spots Carly at the farthest side of the picnic area. She’s sitting alone, all her focus on the calculus book in front of her. She appeared to be studying the other night too, when he first approached Uncle Cletus outside the store. He’ll have to cure her of that do-gooder stuff.

He stands over her, blocking the sun from her face. She looks up. Her mouth smiles, but her eyes are full of what-do-you-want-now. Arden is delighted. Without asking, he takes the seat opposite her and settles in for the big talk.

“Hey,” he starts. “I heard your bike was stolen during the robbery. Do you need a ride home today?” Offering her a ride accomplishes a few things; he can find out where she lives so he can return the bike, and it opens the conversation with a little bit of hospitality. To set the right tone, he gives his most charming smile. He waits for the usual enchantment to light up her face; girls can’t resist his dimples.

Well, girls who aren’t Carly Vega. She narrows those espresso eyes at him. “I didn’t report that my bike was stolen. So how is it that you ‘heard’ that?”

Awesome.

Five

Arden leans in, spreading his palms flat on the table between us, hovering over his lunch tray like he’s protecting it from some unknown evil behind him. His eyes say it all. Bulging with guilt and surprise and what looks like a plea to keep my voice down. Arden Moss is full of secrets.

He arranges his expression into one of diplomacy. Neutrality. I can tell he’s gearing up for an explanation. I can tell he has experience in giving explanations.

But I don’t need an explanation. I need something to throw. “You,” I hiss.

“Yes.” His Adam’s apple becomes more pronounced as he swallows.

I expect him to say more. To start confessing his excuses and justifications and maybe top it off with an apology. It’s the least he could do, after all. But he doesn’t. He just sits there watching me.

This is what I get? This? The offer of a ride home and a one-word confession? Unacceptable. Was he making fun of me in social studies? He had to be. He already knew what happened at the store. He already knew how it went down. He already knew I was terrified.

Because he’s the one who terrified me.

Oh, how he must have choked down his laughter when I’d said it was no big deal.

My fists clench and unclench. Once. Twice. Again. I glance around us. People are watching us. Talking about us. Wondering among themselves why Arden Moss is sitting with me, conversing with me, attesting to my existence. They’re probably trying to remember my name. I can practically feel their disdain.

“You’re losing your temper again,” Arden says, eyeing my hands. “I’m guessing you’re not going to let me explain.”

“Oh, were you trying to explain? Because to me, it looked like you were just sitting there like the steaming pile of crap you are.” Calm down calm down calm down. This isn’t worth the attention.

Nothing is worth the attention.

Arden doesn’t even flinch with my insult. Why would he? He’s Arden Moss. “You told me in class that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Why are you all of a sudden acting as if I ruined your life?”

Seriously? “You. Pointed. A gun. At me.”

“The gun wasn’t loaded.”