31

SUNLIGHT PEEKS THROUGH the blinds of my bedroom. Well, our bedroom. Colt lives here, too.

I hate how his stench clings to the sheets, even when he's gone. With a growl, I glance at the red digital clock on the nightstand, cluttered with his empty packs of smokes and beer cans. 2:09 p.m. I slept away most of the day reliving what happened last night; the good parts, and the bad. Shutting my eyes, I touch my lips and imagine Elliot on top of me again.

No, that was wrong. I shouldn't have slept with him, but I wanted to so badly. Elliot's the only guy I've ever liked sex with. Does that make me a bad person? I keep thinking about his room, and how safe I felt there. Here, Colt's shit is all over the place: beaters, boxers, socks, trash. I can't stand it, so I grab an empty McDonald's bag and aimlessly stuff garbage in it. No wonder Mommy didn't want him.

As I storm around the room, I think about when I first met him. It feels like an entirely different life. I was still in high school, and I hung out with these kids by the smoke pit because they were the only ones who somewhat got me. Colt came by to sell drugs, and I was just another high schooler to him. But something about me tickled his fancy, and suddenly he started bringing me things free of charge: weed, food, clothes.

I know now what he was doing: grooming me. The thought makes me sick.

The first night I hung out with him, he brought me to his mom's trailer park in the outskirts of town, and that woman greeted him by throwing a ceramic pot at his head. He screamed in her face until she cowered away and locked us out of the trailer. That should have been one of many red flags, but I was fourteen and stupid and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. At that time, not even Brett knew how messed up Colt really is.

When my phone lights up, I'm pulled from the memory. It's Elliot.

Hey, so I was up all night thinking about what you said and I came to a conclusion.

What's that?

Are you busy today? I'd rather tell you in person.

If you're going to try to convince me to talk to the cops, it won't work so just drop it.

I won't, I promise. Meet me at Ashbury?

You want to hang out at a mall?

....yes????

OK fine.

The mall is a stupid place to hang out, but I want to hear what he has to say. And like Starbucks, it's the last place any of Colt's friends would expect to see me. Ashbury is ritzy and overpriced; my nanny used to bring me there as a kid, but I barely remember it. I heard they'd piled millions into a recent renovation, adding thirty new stores. I hate even the idea of that. It's a stupid shopping mall; there are so many homeless people in Godfrey, so many kids who need help or guidance or just a place to stay. But yeah, let's build a better shopping mall.

Whatever. I borrow some of Alecia's clothes, a white silk blouse and a pair of black leggings, and leave the apartment. Dressed like this, I might not even get glared at by security.

There's a red Corolla parked out front, and its paint flares sunlight in my eyes. The engine rumbles, but the car's in idle so I walk in front of it to cross the street. When it jerks forward, I pound my fist on the hood.

"What the hell?" I shout.

The fat guy in the driver's seat wears sunglasses and a fur hood. He looks right through me, so I flip him off.

Asshole. What a start to the day.

* * *

Outside of Entrance Three, Elliot leans against the beige brick of the building. He scrolls through his phone with his brows knotted, one foot against the wall, the other pressed firm to the ground. When he spots me, he springs to his feet.

"Lucy. Hey. You look nice, are you wearing makeup?"

My face flushes. I wanted to look pretty for him, but I'll never admit that. "A little," I mutter. "Why, is it too much? I just wanted to blend in with the fancy-schmancy people at this mall."

"No, it looks nice. And I'm glad you didn't hide your freckles."

I cross my arms and pretend his compliment didn't stuff me full of butterflies. "Okay, so what did you want to talk about?"

"Jeez, can't we at least like, have small talk before getting right into it?"

"You complimenting me was small talk."

"Well, more than that." He points to the glass doors of the mall. "Let's walk around for a bit."

"Fine."

The inside of the mall is even more overdone that I imagined. My Timberlands clap the bronze tile as we pass a jewelry shop and a smoothie place until we reach the end of the hall. Glossy wooden banisters separate us from the center, where three stories descend below like a layered cake. In the middle of it is a massive fountain that sprays water upward in geometric patterns.

It's cool and all, but very over the top.

"Isn't it awesome?" Elliot asks.

I snort. "Yeah, but I can't help but feel there could be better things done with all this money."

"Okay then, Charity Girl. When you have money, you should do something good with it."

"Trust me, I will."

We gravitate toward the smell of cooking food. Even with its marble counters and fancy lamps, the food court is still a greasy, stinking hole crammed full of shoppers. Whatever "thing" Elliot wants to talk about, he isn't spitting it out, so I drop it for now. It won't hurt to let him relax for a while.

"So, where do you want to eat?" he asks.

"I don't care."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Elliot. I don't care."

"Then we're going to my favourite place."

Infinity Fries. The teenage worker behind the counter has a booger poking from his nose. "Can I take your order?"

"What do you feel like?" Elliot nudges me.

"Nothing. You order first."

"Large poutine," he tells the guy, then looks at me.

"I'll get my own."

"There's no way that's happening."

The booger guy glares at me, probably thinking that I'm trying to be cute or something.

"No, really, I'm good," I say, annoyed. I don't want him to waste his clean money on me when I have pockets full of Colt's dirty money, but Elliot's not having it.

"Lucy, just tell me what you want."

This is weird. Is he taking me on a date or something? After everything I told him last night? I'm capable of paying for my own food; having Colt's money doesn't feel good, but like hell will I not use it. As far as I'm concerned, I've earned it.

But Elliot is being annoyingly persistent.

"Well?"

"Just get fries or something. I don't care." I can feel the eyes of the employee and other customers on me, watching, waiting, judging. Embarrassment hot on my cheeks, I hug myself and scan the busy food court. There are a lot of families, moms and dads with their kids, all dressed in fancy brands like Burberry. Maybe in another life, my mom and I would have been just like them. My throat tightens at the thought. Would she have been good to me if it wasn't for my father? Would she have taken me shopping or brushed my hair or taught me how to do makeup?

Elliot shoves a poutine in my face. "I got you extra cheese."

I wipe those strange thoughts of my mother away, and my nostrils flare at the savoury smell of gravy. Elliot smirks in triumph as I snatch the poutine from him. We keep walking through the mall.

"So, about what I wanted to talk to you about." He forks stringy poutine into his mouth. "I wanted to tell you that I want to be your friend before anything else."

I poke at my fries. "Huh?"

"I want you to know you can count on me. I get things are complicated with you and you need time to figure it out, but I still want you in my life, you know? And I want to be in yours. I want to help."

I squint. "Really? You're okay with just being friends?"

He nods and stuffs more food in his mouth. My appetite is gone, but I take a tiny bite of a gravy-covered fry. It's a nice idea, but I don't want to be just friends with Elliot. I like him way too much. Screw that. But like he said, being in each other's lives... it would be better than nothing.

"Okay," I say, "but I might not be able to see you often. I can't let him find out about you, even if we're only friends."

Elliot eats with less enthusiasm, maybe because his food's gotten mushy, but probably because I brought up Colt. "Does he hit you?"

"No." Not exactly, but I shouldn't have to put up with anything from him, period. I'll get out of this somehow, but I can't let anyone get hurt. Time is all I need, and time is what Elliot has given me. He said he wants to be friends, but I know what he really means: he'll wait for me.

I only hope I won't be too late.

* * *

Elliot and I wander around talking about nothing, but everything at the same time, and for a while, I forget Colt found me, that my nightmare has once again become my reality. Some of our chats are meaningless, like, "Hey, isn't seafoam a nice colour?"

That's him.

And, "Hey, don't you think the fancy trash cans are overkill?"

That's me.

Other conversations are more personal.

"I ditched hockey practice the other day," Elliot says, "and my dad is pissed. Playoffs are coming up but I don't feel ready at all. Some NHL teams already have their eye on me, but if I keep doing shitty, I won't get drafted at all."

I can't help but feel responsible for it. Stressing him out by leaving without an explanation probably didn't help. "I shouldn't have left you like that," I say.

He slings his hands in his pockets. "I mean, it's okay, Luce. You were in a bad situation. I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's all good now. You hanging out with me today makes up for it." He takes my hand, and I freeze, my whole body tingling. A gentle look clouds his eyes. So much for just friends...

But instead of letting go, I close my fingers around his and take solace in the moment.

We walk around the mall until the stores start closing. By the time the intercom tells us to leave, our hands have been clasped together for so long they're sweaty, but neither of us let go.

A harsh wind tackles the streets as we exit to the parking lot, but I'm warm and fuzzy inside. I missed this feeling. Snow drifts over the quiet street, calm and steady. The world is still and silent, like we're safe, even though I know we're not.

"Elliot..." I hold up our clasped hands. "This is really sweet, but you know we can't be together, right? At least not right now."

"I know." His eyes lower. "And I know that I said we could just be friends, but... I'm sorry. I'm so impulsive. I guess I wanted to act like we were together, even if it was just for a day."

"It's okay. I had a lot of fun."

He stops and faces me, scratching the back of his neck. "There's something I have to tell you."

"What is it?" I ask, and when he doesn't answer, "Come on, tell me. You're kind of scaring me here."

"Ugh. Okay. I sort of kissed Katie."

My nostrils flare and jealousy burns through me. "Oh."

"I was at this party last night, before you called me. I was drunk and oh, fuck, I don't know. It meant nothing, I swear."

"I see. Well. That's... fine." I hug myself, unsure why I'm so jealous when I have no right to be. "I mean, it's not like we were together, El. I left you, so..."

"Yeah, but I needed you to know. It didn't mean anything. I couldn't hook up with her. All I could think about was you."

My eyes sting, because every time Colt mashed his mouth against mine, I thought of Elliot too. The jealousy fizzles away. Elliot kissed another girl, but my memory stopped him from going further. So when he pulls me into an alley and presses my back to the brick wall, I don't fight it. He puts his hands on my arms and bites his lip with a burning intensity in his eyes.

"Is it okay if I kiss you again?" he whispers.

I stare at his mouth. "Maybe just once."

His lips graze mine, and I move to kiss him when the sound of boots scrape the ice. Two shadowy figures stand at street: one hefty, one tall and lean. The wind blows the stink of whiskey and cigarettes to my nose, and my pulse skyrockets. Colt.

I scream. Elliot grabs me, but I'm pulled through his grasp like smoke. The big guy holds me back by my elbows. The fur hood of his puffy coat brushes my ear, and that's when it hits me: the guy from the red car earlier. He was watching me.

How could I be so stupid? How did I not see this coming? Of course Colt wouldn't leave town without getting someone to keep an eye on me! Like a blind idiot, I ignored the warning signs. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Colt tackles Elliot. The blade of a knife glimmers under the crooked light of the alley, but the big guy holds his fat hand over my mouth to suppress my scream. I try to yell anyway. I have to try. I kick and squirm, but my body is so weak. I'm always so weak.

Elliot wrestles the knife from Colt's hands. It slides across the ice and clinks against the bottom of a dumpster. Now they're on their feet, Colt's teeth dripping with rage, Elliot holding his ground, but this isn't some hockey fight and he knows that. Colt's fist pummels into Elliot's jaw, and I'm powerless as I've always been. As powerless as I was as a child.

When I shut my eyes, I'm in my father's art room again. The smell of mothballs stagnates in the air. The rose wallpaper peels, but thorns poke off the undulating vines and dig into my skin as they bind my wrists. I'm scared. The couch shakes. I'm scared. I trusted him. I trusted him. I trusted him.

"Come on, man. No one has to get hurt."

It's Elliot. I open my eyes and I'm back in the alley, moonlight seeping through the cracks in the clouds. Elliot ducks as Colt swings at him, one, twice. The third hit lands. Elliot staggers back and holds his bloodied cheek. Colt lunges for him, but Elliot manages to clock him in the face. Cold tears freeze to my face.

No, Elliot, don't fight him. Just run. Leave me here and go.

Colt hurls Elliot to the ground and climbs on top of him. He hammers at him, and Elliot blocks with his forearms until he can't anymore. Now he's being mauled, and I still have no voice. Colt stands up and kicks Elliot in the stomach. He writhes and coughs blood onto the tarmac.

My breaths sputter through my nose, but I'm relieved when Colt turns his attention on me. Every hit he'd landed on Elliot had been for me. It should have been me.

The big guy drops me, and I gasp for air. Colt shoves me into the wall and grabs me by my face, squeezing my cheekbones so hard he could crush my teeth.

"Is this what you want?" he spits in my face. Colt forces me to look at Elliot, whose elbow buckles as he tries to sit up. "Look at him. He can't protect you—this kid can't do shit."

"Let him go," I whimper.

"How could you do this?" Colt's grip tightens. "After everything I've done for you, you—you fucking cheat on me? I killed for you, Lucy, and you sneak around behind my back like a little rat again? After I took you back? I swear, I'd kill you if it wasn't for that money. I loved you, I—"

He squeezes tighter. Tears blur his green eyes, betrayal written on every line of his aging face. He thinks he helped me. He thinks he saved me. In his mind, I owe him my life. And maybe part of that is true, but I can't help him. He's delusional and dangerous and he needs to be locked up.

"Hey." It's the big guy. "Colt, come on, man, what're we doing here?"

Colt says nothing, just breathes his harsh whiskey breath in my face.

"Colt, she's just a bitch, just drop her, man, let's go before the cops show up."

"Fuck off me." Colt elbows him away and focuses on me.

"You can't off them here, man, come on." The guy grabs him again. "I can't let you get yourself arrested."

Colt lets me go. Elliot's on his feet now, but he's falling into the wall, so I scramble to his side and hold him up.

"El, are you okay?"

"Lucy," is all he mumbles.

Colt drags his feet toward us. Half of his face is bruising where Elliot hit him, and his eyebrows have a thick crease between them. "I'm done with you," he utters. "When you get that fortune, I want double—no, triple of what you owe me for hitting your dad. Three times as much, Lucy. That's what this kid's life costs."

I tremble and nod.

Colt spits on the ground. "You're a fuckin' whore. Don't show your face around Brett's. Don't show your face anywhere near me 'til you get that money, you understand? I'll be waiting, bitch."

The big guy tugs Colt away. They disappear down the alley, and moments later, an engine revs. The red Corolla that had been parked outside of Brett and Alecia's earlier zooms down the street.

Wind echoes through the alley. I blink out cold tears. Is that it? He's really gone? He can't be. He's going to come back. He's going to take me. He's going to hurt Elliot.

But he never does.

Elliot lifts his weight from me and uses the wall for support. "So, that's your ex, huh?"

My heart sinks. His face swells and blood trickles down the sides of his mouth. I reluctantly nod.

"Nice guy," Elliot says.

"Give me your phone. We need to get you to the hospital."

"No hospitals," he says through gritted teeth, his eyes darkened.

"But El, you're really hurt—"

"I'm fine. No hospitals, Lucy. Just call a cab."

I don't get him, but he insists on the cab. It's like cement has been poured down my throat as we wait on the curb. I can't speak. Elliot holds his knees to his chest and rests his chin on his crossed arms.

"I'm sorry," I finally squeak out. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"How can you say that?"

He doesn't answer. We sit in silence as we wait, and the words I need to say are at the tip of my tongue, but it feels so wrong to spit them out. Still, I have to.

"Elliot, listen... you can't tell your dad the truth."

He swallows. "Still?"

"Colt has people on his payroll, like that asshole back there. I don't know what he's thinking, if he's really going to leave us alone or what. But getting the cops involved is still too risky. Especially now that he's seen your face."

Elliot pauses for a long time, contemplating this. "So, what?" he says. "We do nothing?"

"I don't know what to do."

He sighs. "Me neither. Let's forget it for now."

Tires crunch up the street. Silently, we get in the cab.

* * *

If my heart was frozen, stepping into the Wexlers' lobby with Elliot's arm slung over my shoulder melts it into a puddle. The smell of potpourri and cookies baking brings me right back to that night I stayed for Christmas dinner, when Elliot's family had made me feel so at home even though I was a stranger. I guess that's just the kind of people they are. Generous and selfless.