Page 15 of Tulips and Lost Time

Instead, I give her my back and remind her how utterly unimportant she is, then I drop my free arm over Kari’s shoulder—an action Marcus would skin me for—and provide the girl a little of the school cred she so desperately requires.

It’s obvious she won’t say shit to save her life when the bitches come knocking.

“Marc caught a shift at the club,” I murmur by her ear. Her long, mousy brown hair puffs in the humidity drenching the air, tickling my arm and itching my nose when I lean too close.

But I don’t sniff.

Sniffing is for the girls I want to bang. Sniffing is most definitely not for my best friend’s little sister.

“He asked me to walk you home.”

“O-okay.” She stumbles on her feet as I bring us around the corner and back into the hall I’ve already walked. She doesn’t toss my arm away. Doesn’t wrinkle her nose because it’s hot and I’m sweaty after PE. She doesn’t push me off or show her discomfort even as other kids stop in their tracks to watch us.

But she doesn’t hook her arm across my back the way Sassy St James does, either, nor thread her thumb in the loop of my jeans.

She’s passive.

And Marc is bound to have something to say about my little show when he hears about it tomorrow.

“Why do you let her push you around, Care Bear?” I loosen my grip on her shoulder as we emerge at the school’s front doors and look out at the parking lot buzzing with movement and parents picking their kids up. “You could beat her ass if you wanted to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She steps out from beneath my arm and starts down the school’s front stairs. Then she turns and reaches out to take her bag when I’m close enough. “I can carry?—”

“I’ve got it.” I hold the pink and purple backpack like I’m not embarrassed to own it. Then I nudge us both to the right, away from the free-flowing traffic of cars, bikes, and little kids spilling out to find their mommies. “Let’s walk this way,” I mutter, keeping her in my vision and leading us away from the blacktop and into the trees surrounding our school. This town is essentially sitting in a valley, surrounded by trees and mountains. The best part about that means if you walk in any direction for just a few minutes, you end up in the forest. Where the temperature drops instantly and exponentially, and the noise of town recedes as though we’ve stepped through a door and closed it at our backs.

“I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on between you and Mad Rat.”

“Maybel.” She brings a hand up and absentmindedly rubs her scalp where the bitch tugged. “Her name is Maybel.”

“Yeah, but she’s a nasty bitch bully, and those types don’t get the privilege of a respectable name.” I fall into step beside Kari, looking down at her too-short four-and-something feet frame, and shake my head. “I heard what she said, Bear. So whether you admit it to me or not, I already know.”

“It’s not?—”

“I’m not Marc.” I adjust our direction, knowing this forest like I know the skate park and aim us toward an old, dilapidated house my friends and I know as ‘Popcorn Palace’. Because it’s shitty and derelict, and the ceilings are made of that ugly popcorn look. “You don’t tell him the things that bother you because you never want him to worry. Just like he never tells you the things that bother him because he wants you to be happy and unaffected your whole damn life.” I glance down and raise a single, challenging brow when she braves a look my way. “I get what you do for each other, and even if I think it’s dumb, I understand it.”

“It’s not dumb.” Cross, she scowls until a deep line forms between her brows. “It’s called protecting your family.”

“It’s called non-communication and a trauma response.” I skip to the left, because Kari Macchio has fire and a temper. She proves it when she swings out and attempts to smack me in the ribs.

Too damn bad she doesn’t use that same fist to rearrange Mustard’s stupid face.

“Someday, Bear, you and Marc will end up at a crossroads, where you’re living separate lives. Both protecting each other. Both shielding the other from anything horrible. Until eventually, you realize you know nothing about each other.”

“Agree to disagree.” She lifts her chin and reaches up to swipe the moisture sitting beneath her eye. “Maybel’s behavior is your fault, by the way.”

“My fault?” Kill yourself. Step in front of a gun. “What the fuck do you mean it’s my fault!?” I grab her shirt and pull her to a stop beneath a massive fir tree that blocks us from the sun. “How the hell is Moshpit’s bullying my fault?”

“Because your bitchy girlfriend bullies Maybel, and now Maybel bullies me. Misery loves company and all that stuff, and you and Sassy are too popular to screw with. So she takes her temper out on me.”

“First up.” I narrow my eyes and point my finger. Why? She’s a fucking kid. I don’t have to defend myself to her. “Sassy isn’t my girlfriend.”

Defiant, Kari firms her lips and pops her hip. All attitude.

“She’s a girl. And I sometimes hang out with her. But we’re not, like, a couple or anything.”

“So you’re a player,” she counters. “Dating a different girl every week, but returning to Sassy because she’s easy and good for your ego?”

What the fuck? “No! What do you even know about egos and easy? You’re a child.”

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