Unlike some people in this town, Jared had been to a school where he was forced to take part in the detailed scrubbing of every inch of a communal bathroom. It was punishment sometimes, other times so the people in charge could assert their authority. Bottom line—Jared knew how to scrub. And the bathroom needed scrubbing.
After going at the grout around the bathtub with an old toothbrush for nearly forty-five minutes, he found a bottle of Powerade in the fridge downstairs, downing it gratefully. Once rehydrated, he looked around the kitchen at the mess he’d caused. There was a cleaning service Hadley had come every few days, but he could do this too. The music was still playing, daring him to keep going, and he did.
Countertops.
Grill.
Oven.
Floor. Dry sweep, wet mop, watch it dry, mop again.
By the time the floor was dry, the laundry had been through the washer and dryer and he pulled it out, sorted it carefully, then carried it back upstairs. He watched light seeping into the gray morning and fell asleep again from sheer exhaustion.
The magic elixir of Tylenol, sleeping pills, and scotch got him through most of the next day, and weed, scotch, and Grand Theft Auto 5 got him through the next night. The pain dulled in his chest, and his new favorite blend of chemical enhancements stopped him feeling too much of anything at all.
Jared wasn’t quite sure where the days and nights started and ended any more, but at about ten in the morning on what he thought was Tuesday, he hauled his sorry, stinking ass into the shower. Got dressed in nice jeans and a plaid shirt, combed his hair, slicked on a little cologne.
Climbed into his truck and drove to Seattle, Morisette blaring out of his stereo once again. For some reason, the angry girl, fucked-over ’90’s grunge rock mood fit him like a glove.
Fuck the patriarchy.
In the city, Jared drove to a Sexual Health Clinic, directed by the GPS on his phone. He gave a fake name and paid in cash, got his blood drawn, and was told he’d get the results in ten days or so. That was fine. It was a precaution, and maybe he was being over-cautious. Adam had used a condom—at first, at least. Jared couldn’t be absolutely one hundred percent certain that Adam hadn’t pulled it off, and it made him feel responsible and slightly superior to get tested. Just in case.
With Christmas just around the corner, he spent the rest of the day shopping, buying small gifts for his sisters, his mother, and Hadley, then wondering when his life had gotten so full of women. He saw a small pendant necklace that would have been perfect for Ryder, and a band T-shirt that, in other circumstances, he would have bought for Mia.
As he walked aimlessly around a department store, Jared picked out gifts for all the people he thought were his friends, but weren’t after all.
In a moment of clarity, he stopped in front of a display of leather-bound notebooks, remembering Dylan. He hadn’t seen Ryder’s brother in a few weeks now; their tutoring sessions had filtered off over the holiday period. Dylan was someone he wouldn’t feel awkward buying a gift for.
Jared took his time choosing the right notebook, eventually selecting one that had a dark red leather cover with lined pages inside. He imagined Dylan using it for classes, for scrawling hasty notes to himself or little snippets of poetry. Dylan was the sort of guy who’d write poetry.
Arms full of bags, Jared navigated his way through the sudden crowd of people that had flooded the store, sighing to himself about being totally oblivious, once again, about what was going on around him.
With Hadley not due home for at least another week, Jared picked up takeout on his way back to the house and sat in his room eating a huge bowl of pad thai, watching an English soccer game on TV.
As of yet, no one from the school had been in contact regarding his attendance, and it looked like Clare’s prediction that Principal Saunders didn’t want to get involved with Hadley, if he could help it, was in fact correct. Jared wondered how long this standoff would last until someone caved and did something about the fact that he wasn’t in school.
Jared slurped up the last of his noodles, then set the bowl on his dresser. It would likely stay there until morning. He had no intention of going downstairs again.
He muted the TV and sat up suddenly when he heard the front door open, then slam closed.
“Jared?” a familiar voice yelled up the stairs. “Get your ass down here.”
Chris.
Jared stayed exactly where he was and listened in quiet bemusement as the big guy stomped up the stairs, then followed the light from Jared’s bedroom all the way down the hall.
“Lazy ass motherfucker,” Chris drawled, letting himself into Jared’s room without waiting for an invite and sitting down backward on the desk chair. “Where the fuck have you been, homie?”
Jared snorted. “Here. Why do you care?”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Pretty-ass white boy causes a scene at my white party, then storms off and doesn’t turn up to school for two days? People are talking. I want the scoop.”
“You know the scoop, Chris,” Jared snapped. “You’ve known right from the start. I should be hauling you over the fucking coals for details.”
“What do you wanna know?” Chris asked, leaning back with his long fingers curled over the back of the chair.
Jared was slightly taken aback at that. He hadn’t expected Chris to be forthcoming with information. There were so many layers to this whole epic clusterfuck Jared didn’t know where to start. Of course, all roads led to Clare, so….
“What were
