Darkestnote

C7

CHAP TER SEVEN

CADENCE

I’m fuming when I wrench my front door open and storm inside the messy apartment. The look on Mr. Mulliez’s face when I ran to the music room and saw him
getting escorted into the principal’s office like a criminal is one I’ll never forget.
It’s going to be okay, he said to me.
Even in that horrific moment, he was more interested in comforting me. As if all of this isn’t my fault.
I throw my backpack on the floor, bend over and scream my head off.
Normally, I’d check to make sure Viola isn’t home before I release my frustration, but I can’t contain my rage. Today, I stood face-to-face with a cold,
heartless vortex wrapped in the face of a god. Three of them, in fact.
And I barely survived.
Right now, I’m in critical condition. My heart is leaking blood and it’s allI can do to sew myself up so I can face another day.
Sweat beads on my neck and gathers under my shirt. I lift my cell phone. There’s still no new notification on the school app. Not that the picture would still be
there even if I had access. I bet the schoolscrubbed that photo from the records as soon as possible.
Mr. Mulliez has to be okay, right? He’ll explain that the picture was out of context. He’ll tell them we were only at the lounge that night to discuss my
scholarship. Everything will be fine.
I pace the length of my cramped living room, past the drug store makeup kits scattered on the ground, past my cheap piano and Viola’s prized light up mirror.
I’m trying not to hyperventilate but I don’t think it’s working. Mr. Mulliez’s entire reputation could be destroyed and it’s all because of me.
I’d really enjoy the chance to break you.
I didn’t expect Dutch to hit me so hard. He sure knew where to find a place that would hurt.
How could anyone be that cruel?
There’s a knock on the front door at that moment.
It can’t be Viola or Breeze. Viola has a key and Breeze would just shriek, “skank, I’m home” for the entire neighborhood to hear.
I’m not in the mood to entertain door-to-door salesmen, religious groups, or visitors right now, so I ignore the thudding.
The knock sounds again, more insistent this time.
I stomp to the front door and wrench it open. “WHAT?”
“Whoa.” A handsome man blinks at me. Chocolate eyes peer into mine. “Calm down, little rottweiler.”
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any of it,” I snap, starting to shut the door.
He sticks his head forward. “Wait, I’m Hunter Scott, a friend of Rick’s.”
At the mention of my brother, my hand falls limp. I haven’t heard from Rick since he told me we weren’t his responsibility. I figured I’d never hear from him
again.
“Rick sent you?”
“Not exactly.” Hunter flashes me a handsome grin. Laugh lines form around his mouth, giving him an approachable, warm look. “Can I come in?”
“No, you may not,” I say firmly. Having a drug addict for a mother taught me many things. Like how gullibly inviting a strange man into the house when I’m
home alone can lead to his hand edging down my thigh.
One broken bottle over the head stopped what could have been a disaster, but it was a lesson I didn’t need to learn twice.
The handsome stranger smiles, revealing twin dimples. “Okay, I can see why you wouldn’t roll out the red carpet. Your brother’s been kind of a jerk to you.”
“Kind of?” I scoff. Rick made all kinds of promises to the social worker and then he spit in our faces in our time of need. I don’t think his jerkishness needs a
precursor.
“Me being his friend probably doesn’t endear me to you either,” Hunter adds.
“What do you want?” I ask impatiently.
He holds an envelope out to me.
I frown at it. “What’s that?”
“I was there when you called Rick and told him about your electricity shutting off.”
Flames of humiliation spring to my cheeks. Great. So our family laundry’s been aired to Rick’s entire friend group?
“He was a prick to you, but he’s having a hard time too.” He shoves the envelope toward me. “I’m not sure how much the bill is, but I think that’s enough to
cover it.”
I keep my hands at my sides. Not only do I have to deal with The Kings of Redwood Prep calling me poor, and accusing me of sleeping with a teacher, but
now complete and utter strangers think I’m so pathetic they’re randomly handing me cash?
“I don’t want it,” I say, pushing it back to him.
“Look, I know how this might seem. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t want to take this either. But here’s the thing.” He tilts his head and his curly brown
hair falls in front of his eyes. “I have been in your position before. Oldest sibling. Looking out for my little brother. Trying to make ends meet with the world
breathing down my neck. I get it.”
I fold my arms over my chest and look up at him.
His lips hitch up slightly. “Your brother’s got complicated feelings about his mom. It’s inevitable that he’d take it out on you. This is my attempt at asking you to
cut him some slack.”
“You said you were Rick’s friend?”
“We grew up in the foster home together.