His eyes shut at the word friends and his jaw jumps as if I said something to hurt him. But we are friends. He’s my best friend. My only friend.
“Isaiah…” I have to give him something.
Something that will let him know what he means to me. “What happened with my dad…”
It hurts to breathe. “When I was in third grade…” Say it already!
Isaiah’s gray eyes meet mine. The kindness in them fades as they turn a little wild. “Is your dad around?” In the predatory movement of a panther, he takes several steps toward me. “Are you in danger?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s gone. Uncle
Scott and Dad hated each other. Scott didn’t even know Dad left.”
“Your uncle?”
“He’s a dick, but he’d never lay a hand on me. I swear.”
He blinks and the wildness fades, but his muscles still ripple with anger. “I trusted you.”
His three simple words gut me.
“I know.” I can give him honesty now. “I wish I could go with you.”
“Then do it.”
“She’s my mom. I expected you to understand.” It’s a low blow. I stay silent, unmoving, waiting for him to swallow his demons.
“I get it,” he says in a hard voice, “but it doesn’t mean I agree.”
Good. He’s forgiven me. Guilt still eats at me, but at least my stomach muscles relax while the guilt feasts.
“Nice shirt,” he says, and I smile at his playful tone.
“Fuck you.”
“There’s my girl. I was wondering if they sucked out your personality in first period.”
“You’re not far off.” Time is running short.
I’ve lost so much already. I can’t lose him.
“What do we do?”
“What are your uncle’s terms?”
“No running away and no more seeing you or Noah.” Scott said he wanted me to completely forget my old life. That the only way I’d have a fresh start was to make a clean break and if I wouldn’t willingly amputate the past, then he’d do it for me.
Isaiah grimaces. “And?”
“No ditching school. No being disrespectful to his wife or teachers or people.”
“You’re screwed.”
“Fuck you again.”
“Love you too, Sunshine.”
I ignore him. “Good grades. No smoking.
No drugs. No drinking. And…no contact with Mom.”
“Hmm. I agree with the last one. Can you make it happen this time?”
I glare at him. He flips me off. God, he’s aggravating. “No more cursing. Keep curfew.”
His head pops up. “He’s letting you out?”
“Probably with a GPS stitched under my forehead. I have to clear every second of every outing through him. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you’re a bright girl who could manipulate the devil for a passage out of hell.
You get out of that house and I’ll come get you. Any day. Any time. And I’ll have you safely home by curfew.”
Hope fills me, yet it’s not enough. I need more than Isaiah. I need something else. I fiddle with the ends of my shirttail. “Will you take me to see my mom?”
He sighs. “No. She’s no good for you.”
“He’ll kill her.”
“Let him. She made her choices.”
I stumble back as if he punched me. “How can you say that?”
The anger returns to his eyes. “How? A few months ago, she let you bleed in front of her.
How could she go back to that bastard? How could she let you take the fall for her? Don’t play the sympathy card on me. No one f**ks with you. Do you understand me?”
I nod to placate him, but I’ll find another way. Isaiah’s right. I can play Scott, keep Isaiah, and find a way to take care of Mom.
He pulls something out of his back pocket and tosses it to me. I slide open a shiny new gray cell phone. “We saw Scott trash your cell so I bought a new one for you and put you on my plan.”
I quirk up a smile. “You got a plan?”
He shrugs. “Noah and I got a plan and we put you on it. Cheaper that way.”
“How…” Echo inspired. “Grown-up.”
“Yeah. Noah’s been doing a lot of that.”
“How did you know? That I’d be here? In Groveton? At school?”
Isaiah focuses on the trees. “Echo. At the police station, she sat close enough to your uncle and your mom to overhear what was going down. Then Echo talked Shirley into giving us the rest of the information. Scott told Shirley his plans.”
“Great,” I mumble. “I’m in debt to psycho bitch.” The moment I say it, I feel a twinge of remorse. She’s not entirely crazy, but the truth is our relationship is strained. She’s sweet and she’s nice and she makes Noah happy, but she’s brought change…too much change…and how can I like that?
He shifts from one side to another. That’s not good. “What else, Isaiah?”
“Echo sold a painting.”
I raise my eyebrows. “So?” Echo’s been selling her paintings since last spring.
He reaches into his back pocket again and produces a wad of cash. Holy Mother of God, I’m going to start painting. “It was one of her favorites. Something she painted for her brother before he died. Noah was ticked when he found out.” He holds out the money.