Wonderland | H.S.

Chapter Three

Nobody in Wonderland is pure at heart.

Do not forget.

For my time to warn you is limited.

~

No Perspective | Wonderland

~

"So, Cade fucked her, and then Harry fell in love with her?"

The Holy Boys sat around the patterned tables; miniature squares colored periwinkle and silver falling into accordance. Both Ryder and Caden studied Harry as he gulped vodka, accepting the liquid rather than beating the others senseless.

Presley Symmes had walked out of Wonderland seven minutes prior, permitting silence to engage the room in a fair game of staring. Overhead, the Red lights faded in their gleam. Wonderland found its light coming from the liquor display, the alcohol fixing more than one problem.

Levi leaned against the bar, fiddling with the pocket-knife as his mind ran rampant with thoughts. Of the girl who knew of his injury, of his temporary death. Of the girl who knew Jensen's name, claiming the boy as deceased, and the girl who introduced herself as Presley.

Harry glared through the corner of his eyes, wiping his mouth with the pink sweater cuff. "No, Ryder," he said, his tone pinched from the question. "I did not fall in love with that pile of crazy. I just met that pile of crazy."

The vodka bottle tipped on its edges as the curly-headed maniac set it down. Ryder nibbled his lip, pressing the tips of his fingers against the other. Levi noticed the high-levels of angst roaming the room—the bob of Caden's leg, Ryder chewing his lip until blood began pooling, the wrinkles on Harry's face.

Valid questions led to peculiar theories. "Got that, but she's claiming you two are lovers," Ryder held his arms. "She told me you hated her—"

"Don't know her."

"And that you bullied her—"

"Don't know her."

"And that you and Cade—" Ryder nodded to Caden, the blonde's eyes snapping up at the sound of his name, "—helped her when Sugar's was getting shot up."

Cade's heart dropped to his stomach as he thought about the redhead crawling throughout that horrid club, fearing her life. Had she really found herself in a shootout? Was she okay? Fuck, should he help her?

An unbecoming emotion swarmed him, the moths of confusion pricking his clothing, as he wondered how those men were still in Greenport. He bled for others when nobody aided his injuries, and still, despite being strangers, he wanted to be there for the strange girl.

Caden had his story.

For Caden had never been hugged until Levi wrapped his arms around his shoulders after his biological father's death, age ten. For Caden had never known laughter until Levi threw pencils at their annoying teacher, age nine.

For Caden had never known love until Levi stayed with him after he tried to walk off the ledge of life, age sixteen.

For Caden had never known Hope until Harry walked through the apartment on move-in day, the smile brighter than the sun; age eighteen.

Nobody paid attention to Cade's story.

"I'm not saying you know her," Ryder clarified. "But isn't it, I don't know, elaborate? Detailed?" Explaining events that hadn't happened, but how could that be? "It's not a lighthearted story someone just makes up 'cuz they feel like it. If she's a pathological liar, then she's excellent."