“We’re not blaming Rider,” Carl replied. “We just don’t think your friendship with him is the best thing for you right now.”
“I’m not his friend.” My hands curled into fists. “He’s my boyfriend.”
Carl muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mallory...”
“What? You know he’s my boyfriend.”
“Yes, but...” He looked at Rosa helplessly.
“Look, honey, we of all people are not the type to judge, but Rider is not the kind of people you need to be involved with.” Rosa set her mug aside. “That’s what we’re trying to say.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “What kind of people are you talking about?”
“The kind who has no future. The kind who doesn’t even care about the fact he has no future planned.” Carl’s tone hardened, and I flinched. Was that what they thought of Rider? “The kind that takes you to a neighborhood where fifteen-year-olds are shot in the goddamn street.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Carl.” Rosa reached over, placing a hand on his arm.
“No. We trust you to make smart decisions, but we don’t trust him. We’ve been tolerant enough with this whole Rider business because we knew what he meant to you, but we are drawing a line with this.” His cheeks flushed a ruddy color. “You could’ve been hurt yesterday or worse. That is unacceptable and I will not go through this again.”
“It’s not his fault!” I shouted.
Rosa blinked, taken aback. Not in the four years I’ve been with them had I ever raised my voice or talked back to them. “We know it’s not his fault, Mallory, but that doesn’t change what happened.”
“Okay, let’s talk about Mr. Stark.” Carl’s eyes flashed. “What is he planning to do once he graduates—if he graduates? Spray-paint cars for the rest of his life?”
My skin flushed hot. “What’s wrong with that if he did choose it? He’s good at what he does. And he is brilliant.” I itched to pick up something and throw it. Not only because of what I was hearing, but because Rider did give off that impression to people. To everyone. That he didn’t care, but he did. Now I was...I was pissed at them and him. “Rider has a future.”
“He hangs out with people who—”
Rosa squeezed his arm, stopping him from finishing his sentence. Carl looked like he was about to throw up his hands. “I’m not trying to upset you, Mallory, but he’s not good—”
“Don’t say it.” I lifted my hand and my finger trembled as I pointed it at them. “He made sure I was safe yesterday and he was there for me before you all even knew I existed. He was the only person there for me, and just because he thinks he’s not cut out for college, you think he’s not worthy?”
“Mallory.” Carl’s eyes widened. “I know Rider has been there for you. I know what he did for you, and I’m not discounting that, but that doesn’t change what happened yesterday. This isn’t just about your past together, or about college. I know the kind of people he spends his time with. I know how these stories end.”
I wasn’t stopping now. A cap had blown off me. Pent-up emotion broke free. Everything that happened yesterday. Everything that had happened the last couple of months, the last four years—an entire lifetime. Tears burned my eyes. “Rider is good people. So is Hector. And so is—so was Jayden. Just because they don’t have money or don’t live in a house like this doesn’t make them bad people.”
“We know that.” Rosa stood, shaking her head. “Neither Carl nor I come from money. You know that. It has nothing to do with money.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
“He’s not good for you,” Carl repeated.
“Why?” My voice became shrill to my own ears. “Just because I’m not agreeing with everything you all are saying? He’s to blame for that?”
“You saw someone get shot and die because you were with him!” Carl’s voice was as sharp as a blade.
“It’s not his fault!”
“You can make better choices than this, Mallory. Smarter choices,” he argued. “You have your entire life ahead of you, perfectly laid out. Don’t throw it away. Don’t throw away everything, because you’re making a mistake.”
I stiffened. No way did I consider Rider a mistake, but God, I was bound to make mistakes. It was going to happen. I wasn’t perfect.
I wasn’t perfect.
Something deep inside me clicked into place. Rosa and Carl knew I was far from perfect. They had to know I’d make mistakes. That I needed to make them. Wanting to be perfect for them no longer held the same power, because I couldn’t be that. My shoulders straightened. “If it turns out to be a mistake, then...then I’m okay with it.”