Feeling like a dumbass, I mumble, "Sorry, I didn't mean to assume that your mom was—"

"Dead?" supplies Cruz.

I'm embarrassed to admit, "Yeah."

Cruz side-eyes me, but he stays quiet. I take a moment to study him. Cruz's facial expression doesn't appear to be particularly annoyed or upset, but the green in his eyes is no longer as sharp. The color has become dull. Moody.

He looks... sad?

It occurs to me: Cruz and I have both experienced loss.

I think of my sister. 

Persie and I should be together right now, but we're not. We're separated by two thousand miles, and I miss her every fucking day.

I think of my mom. 

Persie and I lost her in such a sudden and senseless tragedy. The way I miss her is different from the way I miss my sister. It feels more like a still, silent void than a sad, wishful pang, and this particular emptiness can never be filled by anyone else. She's gone. Forever.

Cruz's mom may not be dead, but he still lost her in a big way. I bet he misses her, too. My chest tightens with a thick emotion.

Releasing an unsteady breath, I remark softly, "Damn, it's still sad, though. Can't be an easy thing. To not have your mom around."

I don't even know if Cruz is aware that my mom passed away. We've certainly never talked about anything this personal with each other, and these words aren't easy for me to say. They trigger something inside me. My mind drifts away for a moment.

God, I wish she was still around.

If Mom was alive, then Persie and I would still be living together. Granted, life had been far from perfect for the three of us, but, at least, I knew, through good times and bad, we were family.

Our love was real.

I'm sure that my mom, unlike Aunt Katrina, would've noticed the red flags when I came home from Sam's party. She would've interrogated me right away, and I wouldn't hesitate to tell her the full, ugly truth of what went down with Chrissa and Brody. I believe Mom would've done everything in her power to help me calm my chaos.

Knowing this makes the void feel even emptier.

Cruz clears his throat. His presence pulls me back to reality, cutting through my sad, sullen thoughts.

"It's not so bad, I've gotten used to it," he assures me, "and I'm actually glad she's gone."

Oddly, Cruz sounds sincere here. There isn't a trace of bitterness in his tone.

I can't help but ask, "Why don't you want her around?"

"Because she's happier now."

I eye him closely. "Was she... unhappy... before?"

Pain flickers across his face. Cruz swallows uncomfortably. "Yeah, things were pretty bad. Because of my dad."

Everything he leaves unsaid sends a chill down my spine, my imagination runs wild, and all I can mutter in response is a soft, sympathetic, "Shit."

Dozens of questions swirl around my head.

Was Cruz's dad abusive towards his mom?

If so, had the abuse been verbal? 

Physical?

Did Cruz's dad abuse... him?

Why didn't Cruz's mom take him with her when she left?

I want so badly to ask Cruz everything about his past, but I don't want to pry. I've learned from personal experience that, most of the time, painful memories aren't worth revisiting because, then, you have to relive that shit in real time.

He directs at me in steady tones, "Do you know why I'm bringing up my mom right now?"

I frown. "No, why?"

I genuinely don't know. Originally, I thought we were going to talk about Chrissa and Brody.

"Because I want you to know that," he explains, "even though my mom's doing better these days, she always regretted not taking legal actions against my dad. I wish she had gone after him, too."

More than a little alarmed, I repeat, "Legal... actions?"

"Yeah."

I'm nervous to ask, "Over what?"

Cruz doesn't answer my question.

Instead, he deflects, "I don't wanna get into my stupid shit. Not today. It's a long-ass story. One that's too messy to explain in ten minutes."

I still want to know, though. "Try me."

Cruz gives me a long, hard look. Then, he shakes his head. "I don't think so. Today shouldn't be about me. It should be about you."

I begin to feel uneasy. It's like he's shining a big unwanted spotlight on me. "What are you getting at?"

"Like I said before, I'll support your final decision no matter what, but..."

"What?"

Cruz mutters, "Five years from now, or maybe even ten years from now, I don't want you to have to live with... regret. Like my mom. What Chrissa and Brody did to you was wrong on so many levels. They shouldn't get away with it."

I wince. Suddenly, everything clicks in place: Cruz is trying to use his mom's story to convince me to press charges against Chrissa and Brody. I resent him for being such a sneaky bastard. Yet, I appreciate the effort.

"I hear what you're saying," I sigh.

He presses, "But?"

"I don't wanna rock the boat. I want to take the path of least resistance. Or whatever. I don't wanna see you, or Alison, get dragged into this mess. I feel, like, if I keep my mouth shut, then, in a week or two, Chrissa and Brody will move on and leave us alone..."

His eyes narrow keenly. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. What are you talking about? Why do you need to keep your mouth shut?"

Grimly, I confess, "I may or may not have walked in on Chrissa and Brody making out at Sam's party..."

Understanding lights up his face.

"Oh, shit. Is that why they came after you? Because they don't want you to out them to Chrissa's boyfriend?"

I shrug. "Probably. But I dunno."

"I wanna fucking destroy them."

I exclaim, "Right?"

"So," he probes, "what are you planning to do?"

"Nothing."

His jaw drops. "What?"

"I told you," I mumble, "I don't wanna stir shit up."

He challenges, "Wait, so, you're just gonna give in to those assholes? Without a fight?"

"Yep."

"Damn it, Athena!"

Cruz's handsome features contort with frustration. He looks beyond upset with my answer. I arch an eyebrow at him. "What happened to supporting my decision no matter what?"

He retorts, "I can support your decision without agreeing with it, you know."

I urge, "Let's just keep our heads down for now and see what happens at school on Monday. We'll play it by ear."

Eyes flashing with defiance, Cruz demands, "Is this really what you wanna do?"

His tone makes me question myself.

Am I making the right call here?

My resolve falters for a second. Then, Persie's sweet face flashes across my mind, and the choice is clear again.

"Yeah," I affirm, "this is what I really want."

"Fucking hell," he curses under his breath.

I glance at him with worry. "Are you mad at me? I know my decision affects you, too, but, I swear, I'm only trying to do what's best for both of us..."

His tone immediately softens when he replies, "Don't worry, I get it. Completely. I'm not mad at you."

"Then," I ask, "why are you upset?"

"Because Chrissa and Brody deserve to be dragged in public for what they did, and I really hate the fact that they're probably gonna get away with it."

A lull falls between us.

"I hate it, too," I admit in quiet tones. "I wish we lived in a movie."

"How come?"

"In movies, good guys get to save the day and bad guys yeet themselves off cliffs."

He flashes me a crooked smile. "Want me to shove Chrissa and Brody off a cliff for you?"

I laugh darkly. "Maybe."

"Even if they fight dirty, it's never too late for us to fight back. I promise that you won't have to go against Chrissa and Brody on your own."

Unable to meet his gaze, I look away and fiddle with my hair. "I... won't?"

"You have me now."

My head snaps up. Our eyes meet. Breath catches in my throat, my heart starts hammering away, and I don't know what to say except, "Thank... you. I mean it."

Cruz gives a firm nod, "Of course."

Suddenly, I'm feeling overwhelmed all over again. I'm not nearly as confident as Cruz. Shakily, I whisper, "I'll let you know if I change my mind, okay?"

He eyes me with a hopeful look. "Promise?"

I nod. "I promise."

A while later, Cruz heads out to meet up with some of his classmates. They have a group project to work on at his friend's house. I spend the rest of the day catching up on my schoolwork, too. As I bullshit my way through essays and calculate the lengths of hypotenuses, my phone sits close by.

Around 3 pm, Brody messages me again. The notification, though, doesn't pop up on my regular phone. Instead, his text appears on the cheap burner phone I use with my customers.

Brody C: i know u saw what i wrote. u ignoring me, bitch?

This fucker.

I had chosen not to reply to Brody's first DM for two reasons. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he won, and I plan to talk to him in person at school. From my experience in selling weed, it's always better not to leave a digital trail for adults to find when you're doing something shady.

I don't reply to Brody's second DM, either, but I keep glancing at both of my phones every few minutes.

Is he going to message me again?

It's giving me anxiety.

Cruz's words float across my head.

It's never too late to fight back.

I release a heavy sigh.

If only I could.

If only.