Pulling onto the road leading to the lake beyond the trees, I am transported in my own personal heaven-like headspace, with Zeppelin’s “Ramble On” playing, a first song Mom and Liberty played every time we got in the vehicle for yet another move.
Nearly through the trees, singing at the top of my lungs, I am happy for the first time in a couple of days. I feel that balance returning, like maybe I didn’t hit the reset hard enough. Then I see a vehicle, an older model Ford Bronco, sitting in front of my lake.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I grumble as I come to a stop.
I’m about to throw it in reverse and back the fuck out of my secret spot when the driver’s door opens and someone, a man, steps out and waves me forward.
“Pfft,” I say. “Do not beckon me.”
When he reaches in his pocket, my badass bubble bursts as I think about the old-school slasher flicks that played in the quad on the inflatable movie screen all night on Halloween and fear sets in as I think, This is not how my life ends.
My phone rings, and I jump and look toward the man, who is holding something up.
A phone.
I look at my phone and see a local 732 area code. Reluctantly, I hit accept but don’t say anything.
“Savvy, it’s Tobias Easton.”
Tobias is the president of Seashore Academy’s student body, and he and three others basically run the school and the underground parties, fights, and gambling in the area, along with the stupid app, The Seashore Sound. Neither the local police nor Whitaker call them on any of the illegal activity. He’s the head of all the assholes, the elite.
“Heather contacted us. Told us what was up and asked for my advice on how to deal with the situation.”
“Is that what I am?” I huff. “A fucking situation?”
“I—”
“You may have the cops and Whitaker on a leash, but let me tell you something, Easton, I’m nobody’s bitch. So you, your uppity wannabes, and the boys’ club can fuck off and take those horrible excuses for women with you.”
“Nobody wants to put you on a leash, Savvy,” he says with a smile in his voice. “And I have no desire to leash anyone. I’m counting the days until graduation to get the hell out of here.”
“Like I should trust you.”
“I’m thinking you’d rather deal with me than Harrison, Kai, or Miles, which is why I’m alone.”
“If you kill me—”
“If I kill you?” He laughs like he’s annoyed. “I fuck up my chance at Colombia. I’m not willing to do that. I’m also not willing to help keep your ass out of trouble if you don’t come talk to me. So, let’s chat so I can get on with my day.”
When I don’t say anything, he lets out a long, frustrated sigh. “Savvy, it’s me and you figuring this out, or she goes to Whitaker. I’ve had her mark you as checked in. So, you decide. But before you do, remember that you made a deal after your arrest.”
“Wait—how do you know about—”
“I know everything.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it back into his truck. Then he walks around and behind it and grabs what looks like wood from out of the back.
“Is he building a damn fire?” I ask … myself.
Still feeling uneasy about the situation, I quickly tap out a text, telling Roach:
10:05 p.m - Sending my location just in case you don’t hear from me again, Clue style.
10:05 p.m - It was Easton.
10:05 p.m - At Crystal Lake.
10:06 p.m - Death by either drowning or I was burned at the stake like all the brave women who dared stand up to the man before me.
10:06 p.m - Remember, this is MY place. Don’t you dare tell those twats where I am, and don’t show up or I will cut you in your sleep. I’ll message you when he leaves.
I hit send then toss my phone on the seat next to me.
“This should be fun.”
After pulling up next to him, I hop out.
“Got any chairs in that bus?” he asks as he sets the four pieces of wood against each other in a teepee shape.
“I do. I also have some tinder and kindling.”
He nods. “Guess they are right about you, huh?”
“Who? Heather and Chloe? No. I’m nothing like Kimmy—”
“No, Ziggy and Roach. I asked them where to find you, and they mentioned The Bean or the woods.”
“Fucking traitors,” I mumble as I slide open the side door of the van.
“Fucking idiots, but not traitors,” he says as he pulls a joint out from behind his ear. “They said to offer the Indian a peace pipe, and she’d be less vicious. Still idiots, though.” He tosses it to me. “Shouldn’t let you come out here by yourself. No place for a girl all alone.”
“I don’t require a knight in shining armor. And seriously, stow the me Tarzan, you Jane bullshit. You don’t even know how to start a fire.” I toss him some twigs wrapped in twine then a baggy full of dryer lint.
He chuckles as he squats down and pushes the twigs under the wood. “They also said you’re a manhater.”
“Well, men make it so damn easy to hate them.” I pull two bagged folding chairs out from under the seat.
“I was raised by a single mom who busted her ass to give us a home. She did just that and never really got a chance to enjoy it, because she was working all the time.” He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, flicks it, and holds the flame to the lint. “When she died, she still never had time to enjoy it.”
He stands and wipes his hands on his faded jeans. “My father was an addict, piece of shit, who didn’t show
