High Life | ✔️

1

WHEN I TOLD Patrick I had a 7pm flight, let's just say it was the first mention of my departure. To anyone.

After Retribution de Patrick, I made my way to the car park with Marc at my side. Our arms would brush occasionally, hinting at a double-edged attraction on the verge of becoming something potent. That was when Marc popped the question.

"What did you mean when you said you had a 7pm flight?"

I didn't deign to reply at first. I wanted to take in as much as I could before I left this town for good. Central High was something I'd known all my life, along with the people who frequented the institution.

It was a plain building - nothing out of the ordinary, but it was a functional one. It focused on convenience rather than aesthetic value. I'd spent a huge portion of my teenage years at Central High. I could call this place home, but it wasn't quite. It certainly had its shortcomings, but it also had its quirks. And I grew to cherish them.

The skies were like dishwater, murky. It filled our guts with foreboding.

"What did you mean? Are you leaving?" Marc pressed.

I let out a shaky breath. "Uh huh," was all I could manage.

A long beat of silence followed. "What? Where?"

I finally turned to look at Marc - which was a gigantic mistake on my end. Because I'd conveniently forgot how my heart can sometimes be a peach to Marc the fruit knife. I could feel tears pooling in my eyes, not disimilar to the way they pooled in Patrick's eyes, moments prior.

"What the fuck," Marc went. Firm hands grasped my shoulders, imposing something of a death grip which pressed against my collarbones. "Are you kidding? What's happening? I have so many questions. Andie, talk to me."

"I'm leaving, there's nothing to discuss." I wanted to sound strong. But all I managed to accomplish was to sound pained.

"Why the fuck did we just terrorize that little girl for then?" Marc sounded bewildered, like he couldn't wrap his head around what he just did. It had this unspoken 'what the fuck did I waste my time on' undertone. It was scary. My heart thrummed - Marc was so big sized - in that moment, I felt what Patrick might have possibly felt.

I gulped. "To teach him a lesson."

Marc's laughter was so sardonic, mirthless, it raised a lump in my throat. "Teach him a lesson? Fuck, I can care less about what he does to anyone. I only did those things back there for you. Everything, Andie, everything is for you."

"I'm sorry."

"Do you begin to fathom how much there is at risk, for us?" Marc went on. He was furious, but he was manically grinning. It was the worst possible combination.

"We're troubled kids with criminal records. If the authorities so much as find out what we did, we get expelled. Do you understand? But I figured it'd be well worth it, because I thought we were a team and we'd endure shit together and I naively figured it'd all be worth it in the end. Is this a hard concept for you to grasp?" Marc asked. "Now ask yourself this. Why the fuck did I go through so much risk just now, if you're going to up and fucking leave? Not just me - I'm talking about me and all my friends."

I didn't know what to say. I have never heard Marc say so much at once before.

"I don't give a fuck about what the kids do in school, but now I gotta watch that your Patrick cunt doesn't spill beans so I wouldn't get in trouble for helping you 'teach him a lesson'."

"Marc," I pressed my lips into a tight line. "I wasn't the one who made this decision. Up until last night, I didn't even know I was leaving."

He heaved a heavy sigh, broad shoulders slumping down. "Whatever."