The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3) Page 6

  “Seems so.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She looks at me, making no effort to wipe the tears from her face. It’s like a stranger is sitting next to me, not my mother.

  “Was the brewery ever in trouble?”

  She shakes her head. “Paying for two families gets expensive. But he won’t have that problem anymore.” She looks defeated, like she played the game as best she could and has accepted her loss.

  I sit up. “What does that mean?”

  She pats my knee like I’m a little kid. “We’ll be fine. He has to pay child support for another year and it’s not like I’m unemployed. We’ll be fine.” She gives me another pat. “We’ll be fine.”

  “The more times you say that the less I believe you.”

  The patting stops, but she leaves her hand on my knee. “This house…”

  I push her hand aside and stand. My hands naturally fall on my hips, elbows out. I don’t mean to look down my nose at her but years of practice makes it a habit. “What about the house?”

  She looks around like she’s seeing it for the first time. “It’s so big. Do we really need all this space?”

  I take a step back. “We have to move?! This is our home! I assumed that since he moved out, we’d stay here.”

  Her head falls forward and her shoulders slump.

  I touch her shoulder. “Mom, you can’t let him steamroll us. There has to be something you can do.”

  She lifts her head. Her eyes are glassy, like she knows I’m here but isn’t seeing me. “I can hang onto the last shred of dignity I have. If I fight him on this, the entire world will know he’s been cheating on me for half our marriage. Probably longer. And how will that make me look?” Her head wobbles to the side. “No, this is for the best. The money from the house will be more than enough to get us a nice condo.”

  “A condo.”

  She smirks, the first hint of my mother I’ve seen all day. “Are you planning to take care of a lawn?”

  I shake my head, but there’s too much rattling around to keep straight. From an ultimatum with Dad to chatting about our condo with Mom, this is by far the worst birthday ever.

  She stands and lightly presses a hand to my cheek. “Order whatever you want for dinner. I’m going to bed.”

  On Thursday, I take the same seat aboard the Goodship Lollipop and nod at the others as they work their way toward the back, ignoring the knot of worry in my chest. I’m more relaxed than the first day—if you consider sweaty palms and a nervous stomach relaxed—at least until a new guy steps on. He’s not necessarily tall, but the way he glares at everyone as he makes his way to his seat, shoulders pushed back and jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth, makes it clear he considers himself at the top of the food chain.

  It’s the same way I used to enter a room.

  Drea’s behind him, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. She slides into my seat and leans into me. “Heidi’s not here and that guy is terrifying. Buddy up with me?”

  I nod, my eyes on him, and the knot in my stomach hardens. “Who is that?”

  “He’s been here a couple times. Hates the world and everyone in it.”

  While I understand projecting anger to keep people from getting too close, I don’t think I ever came off as terrifying as he does. “Good to know.”

  He sits in the back, where Drea sat last time, and scowls at the rest of us. He catches me watching him and Drea smacks my arm, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. I hold his stare, counting the seconds in my head. When I get to five, I roll my eyes and turn away.

  “Are you fricking crazy?” Drea whispers.

  I shrug, hoping she doesn’t notice me wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans. “They wouldn’t put him with us if he was dangerous, right?”

  She peeks over the seat, then quickly ducks down. “My faith in the judicial system is not what you’d call high.”

  “I hear that.”

  She holds her fist up to me and I bump it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She doesn’t need to know that until this second, I’ve only done that ironically with Austin when he was excited about sports.

  “So what’d you do?” she asks.

  My jaw clenches and my eyes narrow—my typical reaction when I feel like someone’s trying to undermine me—but I force myself to take a deep breath.

  She holds up her hands. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything. It’s a pretty common question around here.”

  I smile, and she relaxes. “I should probably get used to that, huh?” Shame washes over me as I think of the best way to say that I’ve been stealing things I don’t need. But as I’m about to confess, Mystery Boy gets on the bus and my words evaporate. My lips purse and I raise an eyebrow, and he smirks at me as he passes.

  Drea elbows me in the side and snorts. “Busted.”

  I giggle, and I’m surprised at how easy it is with her. She doesn’t seem to give two shits about ulterior motives or saying one thing and meaning another—she seems to take everything at face value. “Was I that obvious?”

  She nods. “But Xavier has that effect on girls.”

  Xavier. That explains the X-Man thing.

  “Someone that smoking hot should not be allowed to have tattoos,” she says.

  I tilt my head at her, not following her meaning.

  “It pushes him into another stratosphere.” She holds up one hand, palm up. “You’ve got hot. Dreamy eyes, ridiculous body, and that hair. But you add tattoos and,” she raises her other hand and lifts it over her head. “Stratosphere hot.”

  The urge to turn around and look at him almost outweighs the fact that he’s sitting right behind us—and probably heard every word she said. “So you like him?” I ask.

  “Nah. He’s cool, but I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  Relief sweeps through me, followed by surprise. Relief because I barely know this girl, but if she likes him, I don’t want to get in the way. And surprise because since when do I care about the feelings of a perfect stranger, especially when it comes to boys?

  She leans her head closer to mine. “You never answered my question, so I’ll go first. M-I-P. Got caught with pot for the third time. Got thirty hours. My only saving grace is it was right before my eighteenth birthday.” She meets my gaze and nods, like she’s trying to ease the words from me.

  The bus shifts as Bruno climbs on board and the engine rumbles to life. “You know the drill. Remain seated until we stop. No smoking on the bus. No funny business.” He watches us in the rearview mirror but since Laina and Crue aren’t here, he doesn’t call out anyone specific.

  I wait until we’re on the road to press my head closer to Drea’s. “Shoplifting.” My heart races, but somehow I’m still able to breathe. I open my eyes and she’s watching me, a soft smile on her face.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “I guess not. I’m just—” I break eye contact. “My life’s kind of falling apart right now and this made everything worse.”

  She waits a moment to speak, like she’s choosing her words carefully, and I’m struck again at how normal she is. Not a hoodlum or criminal like I expected from everyone here—she’s just a girl who screwed up. “It’s better than jail, right?”

  “Longest two hours of my life.” I shudder at the memory and her eyes widen.

  “You were actually in jail?” Her voice rises at the end and I grab her arm, and she flinches. “Sorry.” She looks over her shoulder. “No one’s paying attention.”

  “Just until my Dad picked me up. It’s not like I had an orange jumper or anything.” I shudder again, this time for show, and toss my hair over my shoulder. “Orange is so not my color.” I smile, unsure if we’re at the jokey teasing level or if she’s still testing the friendship waters. For whatever strange reason, I care what this girl thinks about me and want her to like me. And I don’t want her to know my reputation, how I am in my normal life. This feels like a chance to recreate myself and
I don’t want to screw it up.

  She rolls her eyes. “It’s better than neon green.” Then she holds out her fist for another bump, and I relax. “Thanks for buddying up. Heidi’s cool but she barely talks.”

  For the first time since I was sentenced community service, I feel a glimmer of hope that maybe this won’t be so bad.

  Bruno parks alongside a warehouse and kills the engine. “No wandering off into the woods. Stick to the stretch between the warehouse and the road.” His no-nonsense attitude is the same from Tuesday, but the underlying charm is gone.

  “What’s his deal?” I whisper to Drea.

  “He’s always tense when that scary guy’s here. Like he’s expecting something bad to happen.”

  “Great.” I step off the bus and pull on my hideous pinnie. When I look up from straightening the hem—not like anything will make this look good—Xavier’s watching me. My insides turn to Jell-O but fortunately I’m a master when it comes to concealing my true feelings. “At least they smell like they were washed,” I say, and internally roll my eyes at myself. That was beyond lame.

  He looks me up and down like he’s trying to decide something. “Jail, huh?”

  Heat flushes my cheeks and I curse the stupid green pinnie for making me look like a Christmas tree. I shrug like it’s no big deal. “It was more like a waiting room.”

  He nods, but the smirk on his face shows he clearly doesn’t believe me. “Right.”

  I start to protest, but stop. Why do I care what he thinks? He may be sexy as all get out, but liking him is completely pointless, which should make it easy to keep my distance. Except now I want to know why he’s here.

  Which means I definitely need to walk away. I grab a stick and bag and join Drea, who’s watching Scary Guy with narrowed eyes.

  “I don’t think he’s gonna do anything here,” I say.

  “You never know. I didn’t get this far in life by ignoring my instincts.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “Let’s go the opposite direction of him.”

  Scary Guy starts walking away and Bruno hollers.

  “Hold up!”

  Scary Guy takes another step, then pauses.

  “Jordan, you know the rules.”

  Scary Guy—Jordan—turns around and levels a soul-piercing glare at Bruno, then scans the group of us watching him.

  The Jocks are already paired up and Shaved Head girl is inching closer to Xavier. “X-Man, you’re with Jordan. Sarah, triple up with the girls.” Meaning us.

  “Great,” Drea whispers.

  “You don’t like her?”

  “She’s fine, she’s just really intense and only wants to talk about modern art and fighting the patriarchy.”

  “Interesting.” I figured she was artsy based on her haircut and piercings, and the passion for women’s rights usually follows close behind. Not that I don’t think women deserve equal rights or anything like that, it’s just not what I spend my time worrying about.

  Sarah nods at us as she approaches. “You ready for another scintillating afternoon of picking up after our fellow man?”

  Drea raises an eyebrow at me as if to say “see what I told you.”

  “You got a smoke?”

  “Sorry, they’re on the bus,” Drea says.

  “What about you? Brianna, is it?”

  I nod and hold out my hands. “I don’t smoke.”

  She smiles, and I’m struck again by her unconventional beauty. For as much effort as I put into my appearance, hers seems to come from within. “Good for you.”

  “Ladies, get a move on!” Bruno shouts.

  “What crawled up his ass today?” Drea asks.

  Sarah opens her bag and loops the drawstring around her belt loop, then ties it in a loose knot. “Jordan. You know that kid rubs him the wrong way.”

  “What’s with the revolving cast of characters?” I ask.

  Drea stabs a paper cup and drops it in her bag. “Some kids only come certain days of the week, or they miss for whatever reason. I’m finishing my hours as fast as I can. Trash duty sucks, but at least we’re outside.”

  “Except you forgot the smokes,” Sarah teases.

  The time passes quickly—much faster than with Laina and Crue—and I learn more than I ever imagined about how the government is oppressing women and we need to fight for our inalienable rights. I also learned that while everyone is here because they broke the law, they’re all normal kids. Maybe they’re dealing with crap at home, like I suspect with Drea, or maybe like Sarah they’re just misunderstood, but either way, they’re just trying to get through each day the same way I am. I haven’t shared any more about why I was stealing or the Dad and The Seconds saga, but they accept me anyways. It’s kind of amazing—for the first time in my life I’m acting like my normal self without trying to manipulate anyone, and they actually seem to like me.

  Maybe I’ve been going about this wrong.

  I fire off a text to Dad. 2 hours plus 2 before = 4 hours.

  Four hours closer to swooshing above Lake St. Moritz.

  On the bus, Bruno asks about our finds. I announce the box of cupcakes we found in a ditch, but Xavier wins with a license plate from California.

  “I swear he makes his up,” says Drea. “Who throws away a license plate?”

  The back of our seat shifts and we turn to see Xavier smirking at us.

  “If I worried what makes other people tick, I’d never get out of bed.” His gaze bounces between us, lingering on my lips long enough for my breath to hitch.

  We whip around in our seats and dissolve into giggles, not caring that he can hear us. With each exhale I feel a little bit lighter, like maybe this isn’t the end of my world as I know it—things are just rewriting themselves a bit.

  Drea nudges me. “Give me your number.”

  I tell her the digits without hesitation—another first for me—and my phone dings with a text moments later.

  “So you can let me know if you won’t be here,” she says. “Or, you know, if you want to chat.”

  “That’s cool, but—” I pause long enough for the smile to drop from her face. “I don’t plan on missing any days.” The promise of Switzerland is definitely motivation, but I’m not picking up other people’s garbage any longer than I have to. “But what about Heidi? Aren’t you two garbage buddies?”

  She bites her lip. “Yes and no.”

  Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about another girl’s feelings, especially if it meant I got what I wanted, yet here I am feeling all squirmy at the thought of upsetting someone I met for three seconds.

  “Yes on Tuesdays, no on Thursdays.” She frowns. “Sorry, but I already promised her we’d team up until one of us is done.”

  I touch her arm and she jumps a little. I quickly pull it back. “Don’t apologize for being a good person.” I could learn a lot from you, I think to myself. “I’m sure I can find someone else for Tuesdays.” My eyes drift to the back of our seat and she bursts out laughing.

  “I’m sure you can.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence the rest of the way, and by the time we pull into the parking lot, I’m feeling content. It’s too soon to know if Drea is truly my friend, but I enjoy hanging out with her, and right now that’s enough. When Bruno parks, we rush off the bus to avoid Jordan and wave our goodbyes from across the parking lot. I’m halfway to my 4Runner when I realize the beat-up Subaru is parked next to me again.

  I slow to a walk, hoping it doesn’t look like I’m stalling, then not-so-accidentally let my keys slip through my fingers and fall to the ground.

  A hand reaches around my foot, scooping up my keys. I straighten, expecting to see Xavier, but it’s Jordan.

  I jump back, then step forward again, shoving my hand out. “Those are mine.”

  “Finders keepers,” he drawls, eyes shifting from me to my SUV.

  “You know damn well they’re mine.” My voice shifts from friendly to menacing without missing a bea
t, and it feels good. I’ve been trying so hard to be nice that I’d almost forgotten how cathartic it can be to unload my anger on someone else. Especially when they deserve it.

  His eyebrow quirks. He bounces my keys in his palm like he’s testing their weight, and his eyes bore into mine. “How much they worth to you?” His voice is low and gravelly and would scare most people away, but I’m not most people.

  I step closer. “Listen, asshole. I don’t know who you think you are, but you will hand those over now or you’ll be singing soprano for the rest of the week.” I lift my knee to demonstrate what I mean in case he’s too dense to understand, but he just laughs.

  He tosses my keys across the couple inches separating us.

  I snatch them in my fist and give him my deadliest Medusa glare.

  “Watch yourself, rich bitch.” He stalks away, leaving me trembling next to my car.

  But I’m not trembling from fear. No, I wasn’t ready for the argument to be over. There’s still so much rage bubbling inside me and I need to scream or break something or—

  “I was going to intervene, but you seem to have handled him just fine.”

  I whirl at the voice, my face a mask of anger and my fists clenched so hard my keys dig into my palm.

  Xavier holds up his hands. “You okay?”

  I relax my fists and rub a hand over the back of my neck. “If that dickweed thinks he can get away with treating me like that—”

  He takes a step closer and drops his hands. Up close his eyes look like melted chocolate or toffee or some other delicious treat I could stare into forever. And let’s not get started on the rest of him. His waffle shirt is fitted, showing off his muscular arms and a chest that won’t quit, and his hair begs to be messed up with my fingers.

  I shake my head and he tilts his head.

  “I think I underestimated you.”

  “How so?” I cross my arms, which has the double bonus of making me look uninterested while also pushing up my boobs. But his gaze doesn’t drift from my face.

  He smiles, revealing straight white teeth. His tongue touches his lower lip and I almost come undone. “You seemed—cómo se dice?—a little unsure of yourself the first day.”