Take Me On. Katie McGarry

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ feel like a mouse, which isn’t a good thing. Jax’s family does kill things for sport.

      “I’ve been living in this neighborhood a lot longer than you have,” he adds. “That drug addict little brother of your ex-boyfriend jumped you Friday night and you’re covering for him, aren’t you?”

      “No.” Yes.

      Jax leans into me, his playful demeanor evaporating. “I thought you were over Matt.”

      “I am.” The most truthful thing I’ve said to Jax in six months. What happened between Matt and me was unspeakable.

      “Then why are you covering for his brother?”

      Because they don’t play fair. The words tumble in my head, crashing into one another. Even when I was dating Matt, his younger brother carried a knife. It’s been six months. I cringe to think what Conner has graduated to. Jax and Kaden hate Matt and Conner. They’ve been enemies since I can remember.

      “I kicked Conner’s ass at the last tournament, Hays, but you wouldn’t know because you weren’t there. I can take care of myself, Kaden can take care of himself and our job is to take care of you. If Conner thinks you’re weak prey, he’ll come after you again. You aren’t living in the middle class anymore. This is the streets and there are rules.”

      And I’m the one who got jumped. “You don’t think I know that?”

      “Is there a problem here?” I flinch when I notice our school’s in-house social worker, Mrs. Collins, standing next to me and Jax. She’s all blond and thin and middle-aged hip and, except for this moment, typically has a smile on her face. My grandfather attended the parent–teacher conference in lieu of my parents last month and he talked to her for way too long about his gym.

      “Haley and I are arguing,” says Jax.

      My stomach twists like a dishrag. Shut up, moron.

      “Can I help?” she asks in a cheerful voice. “Maybe mediate?”

      “No,” I answer while Jax says, “Yes.”

      I whip my head to him and slam my hands against the carpet. “Really?”

      “Why not?” He crunches into the apple again. “If anyone needs therapy, it’s our family.” He winks at me, then redirects himself at Mrs. Collins. “I’m yanking your stones. My goal in life is to get a rise out of Haley and I did.”

      Jax offers me his hand, I accept, and he pulls us both off the ground. He swoops up my backpack and some of the applications that had fallen out of the files, then kicks the cabinet closed. He waves the apple in the air. “Garbage can?”

      With her head propped to the side as if she’s watching a fascinating reality TV show, she points to the small can next to her feet. “Tell your grandfather I’m still working on that volunteer.”

      “No problem.” Jax trashes the apple and drags me along as he brushes past her. “Later.”

      Like I’m a seven-year-old, I wave and smile at her before I trip out into the main hallway. Jax and I become engulfed in the mob of people heading toward first period. Jax thrusts my backpack and the loose applications at me. Great, now I’m going to have to get these back.

      “What was that?” I demand. “Do you want to get a social worker involved? Like we don’t have enough problems already?”

      Jax steps in front of me, causing me to whiplash forward as I halt.

      “Get out of the way!” some guy shouts as he walks past us.

      “Go fuck yourself, asshole!” yells Jax. When he’s done staring the guy down, Jax towers over me. “Tell me what happened on Friday.”

      “Nothing happened. I fell. The medication rolled out. End of story.”

      “Who the hell are you anymore? I mean, there are times I see you. You. Like a few minutes ago in the office. The girl I grew up with. The girl who talked trash. The girl who fought with and for her family. Then you got wrapped up with Matt...”

      Reining in his temper, Jax inhales deeply and looks away. “I thought when you broke up with him... Why are you guarding his back? I miss you, Haley. And if you ever see the girl I liked, tell her that for me. Tell her that her family misses her.”

      He leaves me there....standing alone in a busy hallway. The scholarship applications crackle in my hand. How do I tell him I’ve been protecting him from Matt and Conner? How do I tell him I’ve been fighting for him this entire time?

      West

      From across the counter, the secretary slides my schedule to me. “You’ll love it here.”

      I nod, then meet her eyes. What would she do if I told her that for the past two nights I’ve parked my car in a remote spot at a local park and slept there, then showered at a truck stop?

      Pride kept me from asking anyone for a place to crash. Not my brothers, not my friends, not anyone. They’d give me a place, but I can’t stomach the look of disappointment.

      After word spread I was officially expelled from school, I was avalanched in texts and the idea of adding to the sympathy induced dry heaves. I’m West Young, and regardless of the fact that I’ve been disowned from the family and the fortune associated with it, I don’t accept charity...or pity.

      The secretary tilts her head. “Are you okay?”

      No. I’m not. It’s been cold for the past two nights and I’ve had to run the car every hour to ease the chill. The exhaustion sucks, but it’s the silence that kills me. “I’m good.”

      Without waiting to see if she buys my response, I exit the office. I don’t care if I’m going the right way to first period. School...class...normalcy feels unnecessary, a bit insane.

      I came to my new school hoping my parents would be here. Saturday I went home, packed some shit, then left, and I’ve stayed gone. Somewhere around three last night, I had the delusion Mom would be worried and Dad would be sorry. That the reason my cell wasn’t burning with texts and calls was because it died Saturday night and I forgot my charger at home. The image looped over and over in my mind that I’d strut into school and they’d be waiting for me—begging me to return home.

      If my brothers did call or text, maybe I would have reached out to them by now, but they didn’t. Dad not contacting me is no shock, but for Mom to be AWOL? My gut cramps and I rub the back of my neck as I stalk down the hallway. Guess Dad was right—when it comes to my family, I don’t belong.

      The sight of long sandy-brown hair causes me to pause. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I’m seeing one. With wide eyes and a facial expression that mirrors the one she wore when I almost hit her with the Escalade, Haley stands in the middle of the hallway. A backpack slung over her shoulder; a piece of paper clutched in her hand. People give her a wide berth as they walk past, like she’s an island in the middle of rapids.

      I’m not shy. Never have been. People, parties, crowds: that’s my thing. But being near Haley again... I found my kryptonite.

      Her jeans perfectly fit her hips, a blue СКАЧАТЬ