Abigail

I had become careless. We had been left alone every night for the past week. I thought we were safe. I thought I could leave my light burning.

My step-father disappeared each night - probably for the pub - and didn’t return until the early hours of the morning. He didn’t suffer through the cold nights. He didn’t see Cora’s blue lips or trembling fingers.

Perhaps if he knew why I was breaking his rule, he would be more understanding.

Cora and I didn’t go to school. Nobody in our village could afford it. When the weather permitted, we went looking for food or took odd jobs from those with money to spare. We interacted with other children on the streets, and other adults who scolded and beat us for making too much noise or too big of a mess.

But of all the people I ever met in my village, nobody could create light with their hands. I don’t know if this is good or bad. I have no one to ask.

The ball of light is floating in the corner of the room. After 2 days of experimenting, I figured out how to make it strong enough that I could leave it burning - up to 5 feet away from me - for a few hours. Cora is using its light to cast shadow puppets on the wall while I spread butter on bread for lunch.

Neither of us heard him enter.

And then I am on my back with his hand clamped over my mouth, knife at my neck. Cora whirls around and screams.

“PUT IT OUT!” he yells.

Instantly, my fingers relax and the light disappears.

“YOU’RE A WITCH!” he screams, throwing the knife. He grabs my hair and drags me across the kitchen. I struggle to get free, but he is too strong.

“Stop it!” Cora yells, chasing after him, “Don’t touch her!”

“I let you live in my home, I feed you and clothe you!” he says, pulling me into the bedroom, “only to find out you’re one of them?!?”

He lifts me to my feet and shoves me against the wall. I am crying, sobbing so loudly I can hardly hear him.

“Please,” I cry, “I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! Please!”

“Like hell you will!”

He slaps me against my cheek so hard I see white. I’m back on the floor - face down - and he’s on top of me. I can’t move, the world spins around me.

He pulls both of my hands painfully behind my back and I can see he has a rope.

“What are you doing?” I ask in a panicked tone.

He is tying my hands together - around and around and around the rope goes.

“Dad, stop!” I hear Cora say, and then there is a slapping sound and she cries out in pain.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!” I scream, fighting against him. He shoves my face into the floor and continues tying.

“This,” he growls, “is for your own good.”

He ties off the rope and stands over me. I try to stand, but he kicks me hard in the ribs and I lose my breath.

I watch from the ground as my step-dad drags Cora out of the bedroom and slams the door shut. I can hear him locking it - locking me in.

Quinn

I stayed home sick the next 2 days. The beast came and went, but I would be surprised if he even knew what year it was, much less what day of the week. I could never go to school again and he wouldn’t notice.

I didn’t want to face Atlas in school. I didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut. But most of all, I didn’t want to fall under his spell - the spell that seemed to overtake the rest of the town. The castaways that finally got a taste of attention from the elite. For the first time, the West Side was worthy of something more than turned up noses and locked car doors from the inhabitants of the East.

I saw through their bullshit. It wasn’t yet clear to me exactly what The Kingdom wanted with us, but they certainly did not want to be our friends.

Kylee and Elaina both texted me multiple times throughout the days I was absent. Elaina’s texts read more excited than concerned. She sent me updates about the prince’s first day of school. I chose to ignore those. Kylee genuinely wanted to know how I was doing. I was prone to falling into alcohol fueled spirals under stress. She was afraid of another trip to the ER with alcohol poisoning for me, although she didn’t say it. If she chose to, however, I would be swift to remind her that that was two years ago, before I knew how to handle my liquor.

It was Wednesday afternoon when I heard Kylee banging on the door. School had recently let out, so she must have been checking in on me on her way home. I rolled my eyes at her concern, but was nevertheless grateful for her friendship. I rolled off the couch and muted whatever trash reality show was playing on the TV.

I yanked open the door, noting the same black, fancy car still idling across the street behind her. It hadn’t moved since Monday. At least, I hadn’t seen it move since Monday.

“Hey Kylee,” I mumbled, standing aside for her to come inside. She walked past me and sat on the couch, snorting at my choice of television show.

“Do we need to have an intervention?” Kylee asked, noting the empty beer cans and airplane bottles littering the coffee table.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, gathering up as many as I could carry and dumping them in the nearby recycling bin.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Sick.”

“Too sick to answer my texts?” Kylee asked, sounding frustrated.

I just shrugged, sitting in the weathered armchair across from her and putting my feet up on the coffee table. I idly picked at a thread that was coming out of the arm.

“Quinn, what’s going on? I know Elaina is… not all here right now… but I am. You can talk to me,” she said, leaning forward. I knew this was probably difficult for her. Kylee wasn’t good with heart to hearts. But neither was I for that matter.

I sank lower in the chair, not making eye contact with her. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to express my anxiety about Atlas or the school. Kylee was silent for a moment, thinking.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Kylee said quietly, “and you know it was you.”

It wasn’t a question that time.

“I thought you didn’t believe,” I challenged, finally meeting her eyes. Blue, like Atlas’s.

“I didn’t! I still don’t! But… but somehow you are involved in this - whether it’s all a set up or a publicity stunt or… I don’t know,” she said, her eyes searching for answers that neither of us had, “But Atlas… he looked at you in the crowd… he thanked you. And you recognized him. I know you did.”

I didn’t respond. I continued picking out at the loose thread. A minute of silence passed.

“Quinn, you don’t need to figure anything out right now. You just… can’t keep avoiding everyone. It’s not healthy. Come back to school. I need you,” she said, and her voice shook like she was close to tears, “I can’t deal with this nonsense without you. And Quinn you - you can’t fail out. Not now. We’re so close to graduation. So close to getting out of Fairview.”

Still I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say. I looked up at her, hoping she could understand my silence. I wasn’t shutting her out intentionally. I just couldn’t put my intense feelings into words. Not when I didn’t even understand them myself. Kylee stood up, offering me a small smile.

“Just think about it Q,” she said softly, heading for the door, “I’ll still wait for you before school.”

“Elaina?” I asked, barely a whisper.

Kylee paused, and a look of hurt crossed her face, “Elaina has been… hanging with a new crowd. The prince has attracted a lot of attention - she’s sort of joined his… well I call them his groupies.”

I shook my head softly, not totally surprised by the news.

Kylee headed for the door, but turned to me once more and said, “See you tomorrow?”

I sighed and said, “See you tomorrow, Ky.”

*****

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. I kept telling myself I was overreacting - he probably wouldn’t be in any of my classes. He probably would be surrounded by a constant gaggle of girls, so much so he wouldn’t even look at me. Maybe the thank you he’d given me at the press conference was the extent of our interactions. Perhaps that was the last time we’d ever speak.

Deep purple circles formed under my dark green eyes the next morning. I sighed in the mirror, annoyed at my tired appearance. I reached for some beige colored powder, but stopped myself. Who the fuck was I trying to impress?

I threw on a sweatshirt and leggings and jammed a toothbrush in my mouth. I checked the fridge for any food, but it was empty as usual. The beast hadn’t even returned home the night before.

Kylee was waiting for me outside, alone. Behind her, the black car remained, but it was parked a bit further down the street. Sometime in the night it had been moved

“Hallelujah,” she yelled as I made my way to the sidewalk.

“So dramatic,” I said, “so what have I missed?”

Kylee ran her hand through her long dark hair, shaking her head in annoyance, “Chaos. Every girl introduced herself to Atlas on the first day of school. A group of them - his groupies - eat lunch with him every day. Even the guys have started trying to befriend him. Anyone that he talks to becomes popular - as popular as you can get in our shithole school I should say.”

We began walking in the direction of school. I listened, but kept my face neutral. I didn’t want to seem like I cared too much.

“He gets dropped off in a fricken Rolls Royce every day. It’s absolutely ridiculous. But the worst part is that he’s charming. I want so badly to hate him. I wanted him to be some stuck-up, pompous asshole. But he’s kind. He picked up my pencil in calculus the other day and made some sweet comment after I muttered thank you. He introduced himself, shook my hand and everything.”

“What a prick,” I said sarcastically.

“Seriously! He already has everything - money, power, looks, fame - why can’t he be unlikeable?” she said, exasperated.

I shrugged my shoulders, “Nobody’s perfect. Sooner or later, he’ll show his true colors. I’m planning to stay as far away as possible until then.”

“And we can give Elaina a big old ‘I told ya so’ when it happens,” Kylee sneered.

******

I took my usual seat between Kylee and Elaina in History class. Elaina was leaning over her desk to whisper excitedly to Johana White. Kylee shot her an annoyed glance and then looked at me as if to say see what I’ve been dealing with? I just looked at Mr. Tanner - eager for the day to begin so that it could end. Mr. Tanner opened his mouth to begin class when the door swung open and in waltzed the man of the hour.

Atlas Ellroy.

I had to stop myself from groaning outwardly. I looked at Kylee as Atlas quickly apologized to Mr. Tanner for his tardiness.

“He’s in our class?” I whispered. She nodded sheepishly. “You could have told me.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come to school if you knew,” she admitted, “He’s in calculus with us next, too.”

My eyes widened and I put my head on my desk, cursing whoever was in charge of making his schedule. The class fell silent and I heard his footsteps grow nearer. The chair at the desk in front of me scraped against the linoleum floor, and I knew when I lifted my head, I would see Atlas sitting in front of me.

“Hey, you!” I heard Elaina whisper excitedly.

“Alrighty now,” Mr. Tanner said, getting the class’ attention, “Let’s get started, shall we?”

I lifted my head slowly, and was relieved to see Atlas facing forward, listening to Mr. Tanner and not looking at me. Of course he would be, I chastised myself. What importance was I to him?

I doodled on my notebook, pretending to take notes and silently counting the minutes until class was over. Fifty-five minutes dragged by, made only longer and more painful by Mr. Tanner’s low, slow voice. Sometimes when he spoke, his eyes would close like he was sleeping. Elaina and I had a running joke that he was so boring he could put himself to sleep. I looked at her, but she wasn’t paying attention to me. Her face rested on her hand and she stared dreamily into space, a small smile playing on her lips.

As soon as the bell rang, I began gathering my belongings and mentally planning to sit as far away from Atlas as possible in Calculus. But all too quickly, as though he’d been waiting for this exact moment, he spun around in his chair.

“Quinn, right?” he asked, smiling at me and shaking his overgrown dark curls out of his eyes. I froze.

“Er… yes,” I said, wondering if I should pretend I was too drunk to remember our encounter outside of Jamie’s house.

“Atlas,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. I just looked at it.

“I know,” I said flatly, hugging my books to my chest and standing up quickly.

“I guess you do,” he laughed, standing up and blocking my path. “I just thought I should formally introduce myself. That is… if you remember our first meeting.”

“I remember just fine,” I said, not trying in the least to sound polite, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to calculus.”

Atlas didn’t move. He looked curiously at me, seeming confused. His eyes scanned my face, looked me up and down. We were starting to attract the attention of a few onlookers and I could feel my cheeks itching to blush. I raised my eyebrows in annoyance, waiting for him to move. Finally, he stepped aside. I dropped my glare and walked past him. Kylee was waiting for me in the hallway.

“What the hell?” she asked quietly.

“He wanted to introduce himself,” I said, “And you’re right. He’s charming as fuck.”

I made Kylee hang back with me until we were the last people to file into calculus class. Atlas was already seated near the front, chatting with some guy on the basketball team. The basketball guy seemed pretty excited to warrant the attention of the prince. I made sure to take a seat all the way in the back, as far away from Atlas as possible. Kylee sat behind me. Mrs. Lewis, the calc teacher, didn’t waste any time getting us started on the day’s lesson.

Halfway through class, Atlas stood up from his desk and made a beeline towards me. My heart started pounding and I slid further down in my chair. But he wasn’t headed towards me, he was sharpening his pencil in the back of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. On his way back to his seat, he dropped a small, folded up note on my desk.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I looked around in panic, but his gesture had gone unnoticed by anyone but me. I debated what I should do with the note. My first instinct was to chuck it at the back of his head. But that, of course, would cause suspicion. I wanted to throw it away, and I settled on that plan. The note stayed firmly on the corner of my desk where he left it. But curiosity is a burning force, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from falling onto the note every few seconds. In a matter of minutes, I’d managed to convince myself that I absolutely had to know what was in that note for my own sanity.

Slowly, I unfolded the note bit by bit. I held my breath as I read is messy handwriting,

I want to thank you - truly I do. I promise to keep your secret if that’s what you desire. I’m still hoping we can be friends. What do you say?

I reread the note twice. I was relieved that he promised to keep the secret - whatever that meant - but it confirmed my fears that he really believed it was I who woke him up. I refolded the note, trying to think of a good response. First I wrote:

I don’t know you that well and-

But I cut myself off and scribbled out what I wrote until it was incoherent. Then I wrote:

You are a lying fraud. Leave me out of your bullshit.

Again, though, I scribbled it out. My thoughts were interrupted by Hannah Kelly laughing loudly at whatever he’d just whispered to her. Mrs. Lewis shot them a warning look, and Hannah shut up, giving her an apologetic smile. I looked back down at the note and wrote:

You clearly have enough friends.

I raised my hand high in the air.

“Yes, Quinn?” Mrs. Lewis asked.

“May I go to the bathroom?”

She nodded and then turned back to the board to finish the equation. I grabbed my books, hoping Mrs. Lewis wouldn’t ask me why I needed all my stuff to go to the bathroom. I was planning on cutting the rest of her class, if not the rest of the day. On my way out the door, I casually dropped the note on Atlas’s desk, not meeting his eyes.

Outside on the bleachers, I lit a cigarette. I didn’t care if I got caught - welcomed a 3 day suspension more than anything. My knee bounced up and down as I took my first drag, the smoke warming my insides. I wished I wasn’t so afraid of a stupid boy. I never felt so nervous around Jamie or any of the other guys at this school. I couldn’t pinpoint the fear.

I hugged my sweatshirt closer around my body, the changing October air signifying more than the quickly approaching winter. Was it change itself that I feared? The town changing? My friends changing? I couldn’t wait to get out of here. This place could burn to the ground for all I cared. And I knew Elaina would come to her senses. She always did.

I stared into the distance, passed the football field, at the cars driving by. I squinted when I recognized that sleek, black car parked on the other end of the field. It was the same model that had been outside my house for the past 3 days. I put my cigarette out and stormed down the bleachers towards the car. I looked around to make sure no one from the school was watching me. It was far too cold for gym class to be outside today. Then, I marched across the football field and to the sidewalk where the car idled. It didn’t move, but I could hear the ignition was on. Somebody must be inside, but the windows were too tinted to see through.

I must be crazy, I told myself, to be this caught up with a black car. But it wasn’t any black car. Cars like this… they just didn’t hang around in this neighborhood. It was all too suspicious.

I saw my reflection in the mirror as I approached the car, saw the anger and confusion in my eyes. Perhaps my feelings were misdirected, I’ll admit, but I needed someone to blame. I wrapped my knuckles on the car window.

Slowly, the glass window lowered. The man inside looked like an FBI agent. He was wearing a black suit and black sunglasses. How cliche.

He looked up at me, tilting his head so I could see his eyes under those sunglasses.

“Yes, Quinn?” he asked. I backed away, startled.

“H-how do you know my name?” I asked.

“Lucky guess,” he shrugged.

“Are you - who are you? Why are you following me?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound too crazy. Although maybe I could sound psycho enough to scare him off for good.

“You know why I’m following you, Quinn,” he said. “Now, are you going to go back to class? Or do I have to let Mr. Valez know that you’ll be skipping again today?”

My horror grew when I realized that this man knew my schedule. He knew where I was supposed to be and he knew my teachers’ names. Before I could ask any more questions, the window of the black car slid shut. I once again saw my face, totally dumbfounded in the window’s reflection.

I made my way back to class for the sole purpose of not being alone. I arrived to Mr. Valez’s room only a minute after the bell rang. I took my usual seat in the back, crossing my arms over my chest and bouncing my knee anxiously. Atlast offered me a smile from the front row of seats, but I pretended I didn’t see it. Totally absorbed in my thoughts, I let Mr. Valez’s lesson fade into the background. I thought about how tonight I would most likely be completely alone, with that black car and strange man waiting outside my house. I chewed on the end of my sweatshirt string.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my name.

“Quinn you will be working with… ah - let’s see here…” Mr. Valez said, scanning his notes, “Yes, you will be working with Atlas.”

Of freaking course.

A few of the girls in my class shot me envious looks and I wanted to shout back you can have him! Instead, I kept my face neutral and remained in my seat, secretly hoping my unwelcoming demeanor would convince him he was better off working by himself.

My efforts were futile. Within a minute, my classmates were rearranging themselves to work with their designated partners on whatever bullshit project Mr. Valez had assigned us. Atlas sat at the empty desk next to mine and turned in his chair to face me. He said nothing, and I realized he was waiting for me to break the ice. I wondered if he had felt hurt by my rejection of friendship.

I kept my mouth shut as I read the directions on the assignment sheet Mr. Valez passed out. The work would be easy enough. It was a research project on fairy tales. We were supposed to compile data on how one specific story had changed throughout the generations. The story was up to us to choose.

“Let’s just do Hansel and Grettle,” I said, not looking at him.

“Why can’t we be friends?” he asked, ignoring my suggestion. I sighed deeply and turned my head to look at him, arms still crossed. He was again giving me an intense look. He leaned forward, waiting for me to respond.

“I- I don’t want any more friends,” I said.

“Really?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup.”

“I wasn’t aware a person could have too many friends,” he joked. I wasn’t playing along.

“Are we going to do this project or not?” I asked formally.

Atlas shrugged coolly, “We have two weeks to work on it.”

“Two weeks?” I repeated. He nodded and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Two weeks working with him - I wanted to scream out in frustration.

“So we might as well get to know each other.”

“Why?” I asked. He met my gaze and held it for a moment.

“Quinn,” he said, leaning towards me a bit more and lowering his voice, “You- you saved me. I know you don’t fully understand it right now. You probably don’t even believe it but - I have so much to thank you for I can’t even begin-”

“Stop,” I hissed, afraid someone might hear. “Just stop. If you really want to thank me, you’ll just leave me alone. Just forget it all happened.”

I let my gaze soften as I stared back at him, a silent plea for him to just agree. His gaze softened as well, but his lips turned into a slight frown.

“I can’t do that,” he whispered.

“Why not?” I pressed.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again. His eyes darted down to his hands as he tried to formulate his response. I waited impatiently, leg bouncing again. He looked up at me sheepishly, and suddenly the bell rang.

“See you in gym,” he said, grabbing his books and walking swiftly out of the classroom.

I sat there in shock. He was in my gym class, too?

It hit me as I stood up from my chair. He was in all of my classes. And he knew he was in all of my classes. This was not a coincidence. The prince was fucking stalking me.

Instead of turning right and heading to the gym, I made a left out of Mr. Valez’s class. Mr. Valez tried to get my attention as I walked past, but I ignored him. I opened my locker and grabbed the rest of my stuff, then slung my backpack over my shoulder and stalked out of the school, hood up and head down.

***

I stopped by the corner store on the way home, craving something stronger than solitude and rest. The cashier was nowhere in sight. Hood still firmly over my head, I walked past the sparse aisles of shampoo and bandaids and potato chips. In the back of the store was the wine section, the only section in the store that remained fully stocked. It was probably this section alone that kept the store in business.

I reached for an eye-level bottle of rose and stuffed it in my hoodie, quickly closing the zipper. My mouth watered in anticipation for the drink - the warmth of my muscles and the blurry world view that came with it.

I turned for the exit, arms over my chest holding the bottle in place. I’d stolen from this store so many times, I wasn’t even nervous anymore.

I froze on my way out. There it was again - that black car with the tinted windows. I could see it through the glass door. I swallowed, considering my next move. I’d decided to make a run for it when-

“Going somewhere?” a voice asked from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to see the owner of the store storming towards me, anger flaring his eyes. I tried to make a dash for the door, but he was too quick. He grabbed both of my shoulders in his hands and held me in place.

“Let go of me!” I yelled, struggling to free myself from his grasp. Although he was old, he was strong. His spidery, veined hands held me firmly in place.

“You’ve stolen from my store for the last time,” he growled, grabbing me by the hood and pulling me towards the back of the store. My sweatshirt choked me so hard I was forced to follow his command. I moved my hands to my neck, pulling the sweatshirt away from my windpipe.

“HELP ME HELP ME!” I screamed dramatically, “THIS STRANGE MAN IS TRYING TO KIDNAP ME!!”

The owner grabbed at the telephone, but I yanked away. He grunted in annoyance, pulling me back again by the hood.

The store’s bell rang, indicating a customer entering the store. I yelled again, trying to cause enough of a ruckus that he would just let go so I could make my escape.

“Help me!!” I yelled.

The man from the black car appeared from behind the shelf of candy, taking off his sunglasses calmly. He observed the situation, looking slightly amused. He straightened his tie and cleared his throat.

“Everything okay, sir?” he asked the shop owner.

“This rat has shoplifted from my store for the last time,” he exclaimed, “I’m calling the police!”

He grabbed the landline phone from the store’s counter and began dialing.

“Now wait just a minute here,” said the FBI agent, “I’m sure we can come up with some sort of solution.”

The shop owner paused, lowering the phone.

“Solution?” he asked greedily. West siders could smell money from a mile away.

The agent nodded, taking out his wallet. He looked inside and smiled.

“Now - how much was… whatever she stole?” he asked, giving the shop owner a twinkling smile.

“The bottle of wine would have cost $12 - but she’s been stealing from me for years I suspect.”

The agent pulled out a crisp hundred dollar bill from his wallet, flashing it for the shop owner. The owner’s eyes swam with greed as he glanced once more at the wallet.

“That might cover a year's worth of shoplifting. Maybe I should let the police deal with her. That way, she’ll really learn her lesson,” he grumbled, clearly bluffing. I wanted to snort at his pathetic attempt at negotiating. But clearly, he swayed the agent.

“You’re right,” nodded the agent, “But I really don’t think we need to involve law enforcement. Here- this should cover the rest of her damages to your store’s profit.”

He pulled out a wad of hundreds from his back pocket rolled up in a rubber band. My mouth dropped. I’d never seen that kind of money before in person. Who was this guy?

“And,” continued the agent, “I promise she will never steal from you again.”

I rolled my eyes. The shop owner grabbed the money like it would disappear if he didn’t act quickly enough. Then, he looked at me expectantly, hand still firmly on my hoodie.

“Quinn, can you promise the shop owner you won’t steal from him again?”

I remained silent, staring down the shop owner. I opened my mouth to make him a promise, but it definitely wasn’t the one he wanted to hear.

“I-”

“Quinn,” the agent cut me off in a patronizing tone, “I really think it would be in your best interest to do as I am asking.”

I huffed in indignation, but I knew he was right.

I rolled my eyes and said in a monotone voice, “I won’t steal again.”

“Good!” shouted the shop owner gruffly, finally releasing my hood. He pushed me towards the FBI agent, and then disappeared to the back of the store. I suspected he was going to count his money. The agent put a firm hand on my shoulder and escorted me out of the store.

When I was safely outside, he took his hand off my shoulder. I debated running away, but he had a car and probably some sort of weapon hidden in his suit jacket.

He held out his hand expectantly. I looked at him in confusion and he sighed.

“The wine.”

I shook my head, “No way! Listen, thanks for saving my ass - but I didn’t need your help. I would have figured it out.”

The agent threw his head back and laughed out loud. That only made me angrier.

“You would have spent the night in a prison cell if it wasn’t for me. You’re 18 now, right? Meaning you’re old enough to be prosecuted. You should be weeping with appreciation right now. But, being that you’re still clearly a child, all I ask in return for my kindness is that which I paid for.”

I hesitated.

“Or maybe I should have let you spend the night in a cell,” he mused.

I groaned and unzipped my sweatshirt, then handed him the wine. He examined it curiously.

“Curious taste,” he said, “I have some fish that this will go beautifully with.”

I watched him walk around to the driver’s side of the car and get in. Before I could turn and leave, he rolled down the window.

“Quinn,” he called.

I turned towards his voice, “what?”

“Try to stay out of trouble.”

And then he raised the window, and I was staring at myself once again in the dark reflection. Defeated, I walked home. I kept replaying the scene over and over again in my head. Who was this man? And why had he helped me? He’d given the shop owner hundreds of dollars just to keep him from calling the police. I was absolutely baffled.

When I reached home, I was still lost in my thoughts. I almost didn’t notice the figure waiting for me on the front steps. Jamie stood up as soon as he saw me.

“Hey Quinn,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his head. He wore a loose band t-shirt, his messy curls hung around his face.

“What do you want?” I said, not in the mood for flirting.

“Why are you ignoring my texts?”

“Busy,” I grumbled, stalking past him and unlocking my front door.

“I haven’t seen you since Friday,” he said, “Kylee said you would be in school today. Did you skip gym?”

I nodded, pushing into the house. He followed me in without being invited. Prick.

“Is it… did I do something?” he asked.

I sighed, dropping my backpack on the ground and turning to look at him.

“No, Jamie, I just have a lot going on,” that was only half true. I was annoyed that he’d ended up with handjob Hannah last Friday. But I had no claim to him, no right to be angry. We were just friends and he was free to fuck whomever he chose.

“Good,” he nodded, “because I still want to give you your birthday present.”

I crossed my arms expectantly. He smiled and pulled a fat joint out of his back pocket. A wide grin crossed over my lips in response.

“Fuck yeah.”

****

I took a deep drag from the lit joint, holding the skunky smoke in my lungs and letting my head roll back on the couch. After a few seconds, I blew thick gray smoke into the air. My cluttered living room had turned hazy and dark. Jamie and I sat on the floor in front of the couch, passing the J back and forth. He looked at me and laughed, eyes bright red and drooping. I’m sure I didn’t look much better.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked. Jamie didn’t have much money and had been fired from just about every job he’d gotten.

He took the joint from me and took a hit before answering, “Stole it from my brother.”

“Bold.”

“He won’t notice. He’s got enough stuff to miss a little weed.”

Jamie’s older brother was a known drug dealer in the town. He’d started selling weed when he was in high school, but quickly moved onto harder drugs after he dropped out halfway through his senior year. His brother used the money to support their family.

The room was quiet, both of us lost in thought. Jamie took another drag and then turned to me.

“So, what do you make of this prince?” he asked nonchalantly, but I could tell he was trying to hide a deeper curiosity. Of course every guy in the school would be envious of the undivided attention Atlas received from the girls.

“Why? Do you have a crush?” I asked dully.

“Shut up - you know why I’m asking.”

I looked at him in confusion - what did he know? My heart rate began picking up.

“I mean… our moms kind of - well at least my mom is still a believer,” Jamie said awkwardly. He knew better than to bring up my mom. I looked away.

“Sorry… my mom is just freaking out about this - says everything is about to change. She told me to stay away from him and to make sure no one gets too close. I think she’s batshit crazy,” he spoke quickly, like he was trying to cover up his earlier mistake.

“I think so, too,” I said finally.

I felt Jamie relax in relief next to me.

“But…” he continued.

“But what?”

“But he’s so dreamy and handsome and popular,” Jamie cooed in a mocking tone.

I shrugged my shoulders, grimacing, “Not really my type.”

Jamie genuinely looked surprised, “Really? Tall, hot, and rich isn’t your type?”

“Yeah I don’t know. He doesn’t really do it for me.”

Jamie laughed lightly and inched closer to me on the floor.

“So you’re telling me,” he said, his voice growing softer, “that if Prince Atlas Ellroy of Fairview was here now, you would feel nothing?”

I looked at him, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. I should have known this was more than a friendly smoke-sesh.

“Nothing,” I said without breaking eye contact.

“Nothing? Even if the prince-” Jamie raised up onto his knees and hovered over me, turning his body to fully face me. He put one hand on either side of my head against the sofa. He brought his face closer to mine - so close I could feel his breath on my lips - “Even if the prince did this?”

He leaned in to kiss me, his lips meeting mine hungrily. I tried to match his enthusiasm, moving my own mouth with his. I ran one hand through his thick black curls, pulling lightly on the end of one.I leaned my head back, looking up into Jamie’s dark, excited eyes.

“If the prince did that, I would tell him to keep his dirty, East Side, 300 year old lips off of me.”