Chapter One
“D id you see the new boy?”
I don’t look up from applying lipstick at the mirror. It’s not my lipstick. I swiped it from one of the older girls before she ran away. It’s also not my mirror. Nothing here is mine except the vacant eyes staring back at me. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
Lucy smirks. “They say he’s dangerous.”
I have a lot of experience with dangerous boys. “I’m not afraid.”
“You will be.” She lowers her voice. “They say he killed another kid at his last home.”
My eyes widen. Okay, that’s new. I’ve been in the system a long time. I’ve been in homes with a lot of strung-out, violent kids. I’ve learned to latch onto the biggest, baddest guy around—he might hurt me, but he could protect me.
Only… I’ve never met a murderer. “What for?”
A shrug. “Dunno.”
It’s enough of a mystery to propel me to the window. I look downstairs where a maroon town car sits in the driveway. Mrs. Moreno is my caseworker too. She stands with a clipboard, her gray hair frizzy in the salty breeze from the bay.
A boy lounges against the hood of the car, his body relaxed, his expression bored. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a gray T-shirt, worn jeans, and black boots.
Was he wearing the same thing when he killed someone?
All I can think about is whether the blood spattered on his leather jacket.
Does blood even wash out?
Mrs. Moreno is talking, probably giving him the same bullshit about being on his best behavior if he wants to make something of himself. The most disturbing part of that whole talk is that she actually believes we have a real chance. At least the new boy seems to know the drill. His sharp gaze flicks across the barren landscape of boarded windows and cracked concrete.
Then he turns his head toward the house and our eyes meet.
My breath whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me stranded. Leaving me gasping as he stares right at me, dark eyes burning with a rage I recognize all too well. I don’t know if the rumors are true, if he killed anyone, but I know from his eyes that he’s capable of it.
“What did you say his name is?” I ask without turning around. I can’t look away from him. And he isn’t looking away from me. We’re caught in some kind of web, but I don’t know which of us is the spider.
His gaze flicks down to the neckline of my blouse. His lids lower.
Yes, that’s what I have to offer. And in turn, he offers his fists and his confidence. His protection. We wear our worth on our bodies, the only currency we have. And God, those broad shoulders. The tilt of his head. This one is damn near priceless.
“Blue,” Lucy says from behind me, amusement clear in her voice. “His name is Blue. But I thought you weren’t looking for a boyfriend.”
I can’t really imagine a word like boyfriend ever applying to him, to Blue. Oh, but we can come to an agreement. A trade. His protection for my body. What Mrs. Moreno doesn’t understand is that good girls get used up and spit out in this neighborhood. I should know. I used to be one.
I lean against the window frame, feeling the splintery paint beneath my fingers, letting the bite ground me. Even the buildings are sharp here, reminding us of our place. Like one of those old torture chambers with broken glass pointing inward. “If he killed someone, then why isn’t he in jail?” I say, wondering if he can read my lips.
“I don’t know,” Lucy says. “Why don’t you ask him?”
The corner of his lips tilts up. Even from this far away, I recognize the look in his eyes. There’s promise. There’s a threat. It makes me shiver, and not entirely with fear. “I think I will,” I say faintly, mostly to myself.
Mrs. Moreno is still talking when the boy—Blue—pushes himself up off the car. He’s taller than her. He strides past her into the house, leaving her to check boxes on her clipboard alone.
Chapter Two
I manage to avoid the new boy that night and the
“D id you see the new boy?”
I don’t look up from applying lipstick at the mirror. It’s not my lipstick. I swiped it from one of the older girls before she ran away. It’s also not my mirror. Nothing here is mine except the vacant eyes staring back at me. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
Lucy smirks. “They say he’s dangerous.”
I have a lot of experience with dangerous boys. “I’m not afraid.”
“You will be.” She lowers her voice. “They say he killed another kid at his last home.”
My eyes widen. Okay, that’s new. I’ve been in the system a long time. I’ve been in homes with a lot of strung-out, violent kids. I’ve learned to latch onto the biggest, baddest guy around—he might hurt me, but he could protect me.
Only… I’ve never met a murderer. “What for?”
A shrug. “Dunno.”
It’s enough of a mystery to propel me to the window. I look downstairs where a maroon town car sits in the driveway. Mrs. Moreno is my caseworker too. She stands with a clipboard, her gray hair frizzy in the salty breeze from the bay.
A boy lounges against the hood of the car, his body relaxed, his expression bored. He’s wearing a black leather jacket over a gray T-shirt, worn jeans, and black boots.
Was he wearing the same thing when he killed someone?
All I can think about is whether the blood spattered on his leather jacket.
Does blood even wash out?
Mrs. Moreno is talking, probably giving him the same bullshit about being on his best behavior if he wants to make something of himself. The most disturbing part of that whole talk is that she actually believes we have a real chance. At least the new boy seems to know the drill. His sharp gaze flicks across the barren landscape of boarded windows and cracked concrete.
Then he turns his head toward the house and our eyes meet.
My breath whooshes out of my lungs, leaving me stranded. Leaving me gasping as he stares right at me, dark eyes burning with a rage I recognize all too well. I don’t know if the rumors are true, if he killed anyone, but I know from his eyes that he’s capable of it.
“What did you say his name is?” I ask without turning around. I can’t look away from him. And he isn’t looking away from me. We’re caught in some kind of web, but I don’t know which of us is the spider.
His gaze flicks down to the neckline of my blouse. His lids lower.
Yes, that’s what I have to offer. And in turn, he offers his fists and his confidence. His protection. We wear our worth on our bodies, the only currency we have. And God, those broad shoulders. The tilt of his head. This one is damn near priceless.
“Blue,” Lucy says from behind me, amusement clear in her voice. “His name is Blue. But I thought you weren’t looking for a boyfriend.”
I can’t really imagine a word like boyfriend ever applying to him, to Blue. Oh, but we can come to an agreement. A trade. His protection for my body. What Mrs. Moreno doesn’t understand is that good girls get used up and spit out in this neighborhood. I should know. I used to be one.
I lean against the window frame, feeling the splintery paint beneath my fingers, letting the bite ground me. Even the buildings are sharp here, reminding us of our place. Like one of those old torture chambers with broken glass pointing inward. “If he killed someone, then why isn’t he in jail?” I say, wondering if he can read my lips.
“I don’t know,” Lucy says. “Why don’t you ask him?”
The corner of his lips tilts up. Even from this far away, I recognize the look in his eyes. There’s promise. There’s a threat. It makes me shiver, and not entirely with fear. “I think I will,” I say faintly, mostly to myself.
Mrs. Moreno is still talking when the boy—Blue—pushes himself up off the car. He’s taller than her. He strides past her into the house, leaving her to check boxes on her clipboard alone.
Chapter Two
I manage to avoid the new boy that night and the
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