The Truth Is.

Chapter 18

SADIE

Sneaking out had been easier than I thought. In fact, I doubted anyone would care. Father was never home, and my siblings would rather die than be caught in the same room as I. Mother retired to her sewing room to mend Father's cuffs before the dinner party. A small part of me wished there was some fear of getting caught.

        Fear of Mother checking on me.

        Fear of Father worrying too much.

        But the logical side of my brain knew they wouldn't so much as set foot in my bedroom, much less dig around for me.

        I'd never been to this diner before, but I remember Father calling it, "The scum of earth." And adding, "No self-respecting man would ever set foot in there." It was the perfect reassurance. No Magnates would come in here.

        The booth chairs were fuzzy, their vomit-like green fuzz covering any possible stains. The tables were a sleek black, with a hanging light above them. There weren't any waiters. A lone woman scrolled on her phone by what looked like a bar without any alcohol visible. Her name tag was crumpled. The smell was toxic, I could feel the alcohol rolling in waves around the diner.

        The dingy bell rung, and in walked danger. Scants were strange sorts of people. They didn't have money, and yet when they walked into a place, they owned it. Their rugged skin and hair screamed of youth. The leather jackets were a sign of poison, and the crooked grins represented danger.

        A lanky Scant took to the front of the group. His wire-framed glasses twinkled with neon lights, and paused when they landed on me.

        They joined the booth.

        The boy settled in on the corner, with Paige next to him. The seats beside me remained empty.

        I was the outsider.

        Out of worry, I glanced to the door. This wasn't school property anymore, He could walk in here at any moment.

        "Clove, nice to meet ya," Clove mumbled into his hands.

        "Sadie Gallagher," The robotic answer left my mouth. My knee bounced underneath the table.

        "Two-pick should be here soon."

        "Two-pick?"       

        "My brother."

        Even dressed down, I still stood out. My cashmere hoodie and bleached jeans clashed with the scuffed denim and hard leather around me. Except for Paige. She wore a simple graphic shirt, and stared at nothing in particular.

        I knew that look.

        "What evidence do you have?" I tried to be discreet.

        "So far just Paige's word, and hopefully yours." Clove added.

        "I won't testify against him."

        Paige rolled her eyes. He nodded, unsurprised and picked up a menu. I huddled back into the soft baggy fabric of my sweater.

        The bell jingled, and a loud crashing ensued. A spitting image of Clove was pressed flat against one of the booths, a hand on his throat and the other digging in his pockets. The hand came back out with two scraps of leather sewn together, a couple bills slipped out the top.

        "Take my wallet again and I'll fuck you up."

        Anxiety spiked in my chest, and I recognized him. His fists were still bruised, and the swelling of his jaw had gone down. The blood from his dark leather jacket was gone, leaving only a small inky stain.