“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I say. “You already ruined me the easy way—by making the world admit that a girl could possibly be a sexual being, too. I know what happened in that locker room. We both know. And yet, the whole school thinks the entire football team ran a train on me. But that’s just a reputation, Preston. You know as well as I do that it’s not true. You know what I’m made of now. And I know what you’re made of.”
He leans against the locker like he’s settling in for a long conversation. I should walk away. I know I should. And yet… In truth, this psychotic monster fascinates me. I can’t stop myself from wanting to study him the same way he studies me. But now he’s behind my locker door, where I can only see his legs.
“I could say you’re ugly,” he drawls. “But I’m not the liar in the family.”
I’m relieved he can’t see my face. Because he’d see that some stupid, stupid, stupid part of me thrills at that littlest of compliments, really just the crumb of one. Because yes, I may be standing here like it doesn’t make my heart race and my head dizzy to be this close to my attacker, like I can spar with him like an equal, but I’m still a girl.
And not just a girl who wants to be told she’s pretty, but the insecure little girl who wore the same lipstick for two years because someone said she liked it. The girl who sits at home wondering why Daddy’s not showing up for their father-daughter date. The girl who hides under the bubbles in the bath when her mother asks how much ice cream she’s been eating, the one who gets up two hours early to make sure she looks worthy of carrying the burden of her own name. I’m not bulletproof. My heart is still a fragile thing, like a butterfly just learning to spread its crinkled wings.
“Well, thanks,” I say lightly. And then, because I know the faces we show the world can’t hide the ugliness we feel about ourselves, I add, “You’re not so bad yourself, Preston Darling.”
I’m glad I’m behind my locker door, that he can’t see my face. But I wish I could see his. I want to know if that little compliment might mean as much to him as it means to me.
At the same time, I expect him tell me he knows exactly how hot he is, to grab his dick and ask if I want to ride it like all the other girls.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?” he asks after a beat of silence. His voice is only mildly curious, as if an assault charge is just another day in the life of a Darling boy. Maybe it is. I have no idea how many girls they’ve done that to—some of whom Devlin didn’t rescue. “I did a number on you in that locker room,” he goes on when I don’t respond. “And you were with my brother all evening after that. Y’all saw the cops. You went to the hospital. You could have told them I did that to your face.”
I take a steadying breath and then swing my locker door almost closed, so I can see him.
“I’m not the rat in my family.” We stare at each other for a minute. “There are no rats in my family,” I add. “See, that’s the difference between a Darling and a Dolce, Preston. My family is good. We don’t pick one person to be the liar, one to be the psycho, and one to be the bully, so we can all feel good about ourselves. Isn’t that how it works? Because hey, maybe you beat the shit out of some girl and tied her up to be gang-raped, but at least you didn’t lie about it.”
He stares at me a long minute, those blue eyes making me rage inside, because I can’t see a damn thing in them. Finally, he says, “You’re not blameless, Crystal. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“Oh, what, because I fought back? Because I hit you when you attacked me? That makes me just as bad?”
“Because you’re human,” he says.
I grab the notebook I need from my locker and close the door quietly before turning to him. “Yeah, I’m human,” I say. “I make mistakes. What you did? That wasn’t a mistake.”
“You hurt people, too.”
We stare at each other a long minute. A soft chime sounds over the intercom, and students start to pour into the hall. “You’d better go, Preston,” I say. “Unless you want that other arm broken.”
He lets out a little scoff, the corner of his mouth twisting up. “See? You think you’re so fucking perfect, but why am I standing here with a broken arm and no football career ahead of me? This isn’t some stupid prank. That is mylife, Crystal. Football was my ticket out of here.”
By the time he’s finished speaking, his eyes are finally showing more than indifference. He looks savage with fury, like a trapped, desperate animal. And I want to feel something for him—maybe I even do feel something—but I can’t forgive him.
“That’s not my fault,” I say, my own anger rising to meet his. “And listen, you can stand here and talk to me if you want, but you know the consequences. Think of it this way. You warned me to leave this school after they broke your arm, and if you want to pretend that I was asking for it because I didn’t listen, fine. But now I’m warning you. If you don’t listen, you know what my brothers will do. That’s on you.”
I turn and walk away. Maybe he deserves what my brothers will do to him or maybe he doesn’t. But I’m done. I’m done with all of it. I don’t want to be around for it. I’m just not a vengeful kind of person. I tried it with Devlin, and it doesn’t feel good. Revenge isn’t a dish best served cold. It’s a dish best not served at all.
five
Crystal
I make it through an entire class period before I run into my brothers. But on my way to my next class, as I’m ignoring a handful of guys taunting me and humping each other as I walk by, I run smack into Royal and King. They come to a full stop when they see me.
“What the hell, Crystal,” King says, sounding halfway pissed and halfway shocked.
“So, I guess it’s pretty noticeable when I don’t wear makeup after all,” I say. “No one seemed to care in my last class.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Royal asks, grabbing my arm and marching me toward the nearest restroom.
“That’s what this is about?” King asks, falling into step on my other side as they bodily escort me to fix my face. “Attention?”
“No,” I say, trying to twist away from Royal. “It’s about the fact that it’s bullshit that I have to wear a whole face full of makeup every day to hide what I look like. You don’t do that. Why should I?”
“Because you look like shit like that,” Royal says, shoving me into the bathroom. A handful of girls squeal and giggle when they see my brothers.