Read Online Rebel, Bully, Geek, Pariah by Erin Jade Lange - Free Book Online

mouth.
    My small eleven-year-old hands shook as I stretched the seat belt across my lap and adjusted my mirrors, like Mama had taught me just weeks before. The emergency room was only a few blocks from the apartment. I cried the whole way.
    I hadn’t cried since.
    â€œI’d rather ride with the fifteen-year-old than the drunk,” Andi said.
    â€œSo you’re coming?” York asked.
    â€œYeah, we’re coming.”
    It took me a second to realize she meant both of us.
    â€œNot me,” I said.
    â€œCome on.” She stuck an arm out like an impatient mother ordering a child to take her hand.
    Something about that motherly gesture caused anger to boil up inside my chest. It bubbled and bubbled until I thought I might explode, so when I opened my mouth, I made an effort to keep my tone even.
    â€œNo. Thank you.”
    There. That was even polite. Good for me.
    York tossed my cell phone at me before climbing into the passenger seat.
    â€œDon’t give her that! She’ll call the cops.” Andi looked like she was about to boil over herself.
    â€œWe can’t leave her downtown with no phone,” York said. He leaned out the window and called to me. “You okay out here, Hat Girl?”
    I nodded.
    Then he looked me over in a way that made me feel naked. “She doesn’t look like a narc to me.”
    I’m not! I’m not a narc!
    I don’t know why I cared what the hell they all thought. I’d learned a long time ago not to care what
anyone
thought, and I’d been called a lot worse than a narc.
    â€œYou can’t leave,” Andi said, pleading now. “We’re all in this together.”
    â€œI’m not
in this
at all,” I said. “I don’t even know how I got here. All I wanted was what you stole!”
    â€œThis?” Andi whipped the violin out of her oversize messenger bag and swung it back over her head like she was winding up a pitch. But she didn’t throw it. She seemed to think for just a moment, anger flashing in her eyes, and then she shoved the violin into my chest.
    â€œIf this is really all you care about after a man’s been run over and probably killed and we’ve been shot at, then you have some serious problems.”
    My cheeks burned. Of course it wasn’t all I cared about. But the violin was part of Mama, and I normally didn’t have room to worry about much more than that.
    â€œThere you go,” she said, releasing the violin into my clutching hands. “You’ve got it. Now go.” She pointed out toward the road.
    Inside the SUV, the boys had turned down that awful radio and were listening closely. Boston looked anxious to get on the road. I felt like a coward for abandoning them.
    â€œAnd my money,” I said.
    â€œConsider it payment for your stupid violin. Now, please. Get. Out. Of. Here.”
    Why did it sound like she was begging me?
    â€œGO!”
    But I didn’t want to go.
    The feeling hit me like a wrecking ball.
    I had Mama’s violin. I had my phone and permission to leave. Maybe I didn’t have my cash, but who cared? I was going to spend it on the violin anyway. This was my moment to escape this whole crazy night.
    And yet my feet didn’t move.
    Move, feet!
    But I was sure if I took a step, it would be in the wrong direction. My brain’s compass told me to hit the road, but my gut was pulling me back toward the SUV.
    For a few crazy hours tonight, I had been part of something—something silly and then stupid and then downright awful—but something other than Mama and endless daydreams. And now here I was, standing apart again, watching others from the outside, and it gutted me. It wasn’t that I wanted to get in the car so much as I didn’t want to be left out.
    â€œWe have to go!” York called.
    A siren wailed off in the distance, somewhere inside the woods, punctuating his words.
    I probably stood there weighing my