“All I know is, I didn’t break a sweat,” Colt says. “I was just chilling in there while you freaked out and tried to cut your way out with a pocketknife.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You could have told me you knew someone with a key.”
“If you’d gone all128 Hourson me and tried to saw off your arm, I would have stopped you.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Thanks.”
“Why were you in there?” asks Dixie, who’s been following our conversation like she was waiting for a place to interject.
“That’s where I live,” I say. “Seeing as how I’m the white trash queen and all.”
“I’m sorry,” Dixie says. “Those boys have more power than they know what to do with. I swear, they used to be real nice. Or, at least kinda nice. Somewhere deep inside, they’re just lost little boys who need someone to love them enough to tell them no.”
“Is that what we’re going with now?” Colt asks. “I thought deep inside they were sociopaths who ruin everything they touch just for the fun of it.”
“Well, that’s another way to put it,” Dixie says. “My way was just a little nicer.”
“As much as I’d love to stand around debating the merits of the guys who threw us in the trash like we’re garbage, I missed some classes, so I should probably go catch the teachers before they leave for the day,” I say, pulling my damp shirt away from my skin.
“Wow, you’re like a nerd, aren’t you?” Colt asks.
I fix him with a look. “Yeah, pretty much. What about it?”
“Nothing,” he says, holding up his hands. “It’s cool. Go get that extra credit.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out if he’s saying that because he knows something. Something about Mr. Behr. That life seems far away now, after only a few weeks, but I have to remember it’s still there. The Dolces could release that picture any day. After the way I’ve been antagonizing them, I’m surprised they haven’t already.
Colt was right. I do attack everything head on, with brute force, and this was no different. But these boys are sneaky. They hold their cards close to their chest. They’ll play that trump card when they’re ready. Which means I need to be more careful, more clever, if I’m going to get anywhere with them.
I start to turn away, then go back to something that’s been nagging at the corner of my mind for hours. It pops to the forefront all at once, smacking me in the face.
When Colt showed up, Royal called himDynamo.
“Hey, Colt,” I say, backpedaling toward the building. “Does Royal fight?”
Colt shrugs, and his gaze flicks to Dixie for just a fraction of a second. It’s so fast she misses it because she’s looking at me. But I don’t miss it.
“How would I know?” he says. “It’s not like I follow the guy around to see what illegal shit he’s into.”
“Right,” I say, giving them a wave before heading inside, still sweaty and reeking of garbage. But nothing is going to stop me from keeping my scholarship, and if that means I have to go to my teachers smelling like sour milk and rotten lettuce, then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t even mind. Because finally, I have something.
Royal either fights or goes to the Slaughter Pen to watch. I’ve never seen him at my fights, which makes sense. He’s off doing the whole Friday Night Lights thing while I’m fighting. But he knows Colt by his fight club name. Which means that on Saturday nights, when the guys fight, he’s either on the sidelines placing bets or in the ring fighting.
*
Fight Club
The first rule
Hit harder
The second rule
Hit smarter
The third rule
Make them bleed