Page 34 of sWitch

My attempt at warm ups sucked. The band knew it, I knew it. Trevor’s game was the following morning, so he’d be warming up all night. Our twin sense wouldn’t let up—constantly pinging reminders of his schedule during the day. He was probably too busy kicking balls and fucking Mary Jane to give my show a second thought.

I looked out into the distracted and partying crowd, hoping for a beacon of pink. What adorable getup would Fauna have worn to watch me play an actual gig? Did she even care about me at all, or was I just another game to her?

Rollo gave me the rundown, the rumors, the tea. None of it painted little miss Fauna Belrose in a positive light. The whispering made her sound conniving, manipulative, cold. Was that who she truly was? Did she really use Prue and break her heart, ruthlessly leaving her in the dust? Could I have been so blind to the fact that she was doing the same to me—to Trevor too?

Using a fake relationship with Trevor to look cooler—dating the star soccer player—and to make Prue jealous, all the while seducing me and putting me through emotional torment over betraying my brother. She could have just told me and ended my misery. It always seemed on the tip of her tongue, didn’t it? Maybe she wanted to confess, and my horny fixation on her just wouldn’t allow it.

The spotlight shined its caustic light upon the band. Lennon glanced expectantly in my direction as Joss tapped her foot and Rollo worked the crowd. It was our time, our big moment. No working for pizza this time.

“We’re Mall Ratz!” Joss repeated into the mic, turning and shooting me awhat the fuckglare. Oh, yeah, I should count us off. Raising my sticks, I tapped a one, two, three before hitting the skins. The band fell into the best fucking music of our lives. The crowd went absolutely nuts.

Dream venue.

Dream crowd.

Dream band.

The motions of my set vibrated through my arms, reminding me I could play in my sleep and still shred—even if my heart was someplace else. Something caught my attention in the crowd—a flash of faded purple hair. Prue.

She stared at me, clutching some sort of metal backpack. Weird. Chet joined her, and when he passed her a drink, she turned—revealing a clear window in her odd satchel. Three kittens pawed at the plexiglass, one with spots and floppy ear… Turnip.

Why the fuck did Prue have Fauna’s kittens?

Why would someone so wronged by Fauna be so eager to be in her space? To talk about her, follow her, follow me, talk shit, and now…she had her kittens. For someone rumored to be so conniving and fake, Fauna never had anything to say about Prue. Yet Prue, it seemed, couldn’t shut up about Fauna. Something wasn’t right. I knew my feelings for Fauna. If she was using Trevor, or even me, it was because she had no other choice. Those kittens, I knew for a fact, were her whole heart, and there was no way she’d hand them over to attend a rock concert with her enemy.

The song was reaching its crescendo. Joss belted the lyrics, Lennon zoned in on the keys, Rollo hit every note. Finally,finally, we were doing it. Everything we’d worked for. The hundreds, thousands of hours of practice in the tattoo shop, the twelve-year-olds’ birthday gigs. It all amounted to this—it was everything I wanted.

It was everything I’d wanted until Fauna.

Right or wrong, truth or lie, I’d known Fauna was mine from the moment I saw her. That was never going to change. Fauna Belrose was my girl, and she needed me.

My spin-stool fell back with a clatter as I stood abruptly, shoving my sticks into the back pocket of my jeans. The band looked to me in confusion as the beat stopped. They continued playing—fighting to recover from my exit as I jumped off the stage. Partiers gripped my shoulders and slapped my back, thinking this was all part of a bit or something, but I walked straight for Prue. Her face drained of color, and she took a step back, hiding behind Chet’s bulky arm.

I outstretched my palm. “Give them to me.”

“I’m going to go get another beer,” Chet announced before slipping back into the crowd like the coward he was.

Prue looked after him astonished before clearing her throat and crossing her arms. “Give you what?”

“The kittens. Fauna’s kittens.”

“Why do you care? Didn’t you hear? She was playing Trevor and you, just like she played me. Really, this is pathetic, Remy. Don’t let her destroy you like she has so many others.” Prue clutched the straps of her backpack-carrier. “I think your band is waiting for you. Don’t blow your big chance.”

I crossed my arms. “What do you have on her, Prue? Whatever it is, I don’t fucking care. She’s my girl, and you fuck with her, you fuck with me.”

The faded-purple-haired psycho scoffed. “You ever reach the end of V for Valin? You know there’s a community board for winners, right? I don’t know… Maybe your girl should be more careful who she ghosts…and who she sends nudes to.”

Then, it clicked.

Why had it taken so long to flip the switch in my brain to what was going on? Fauna was being bullied…and… “You’ve planted revenge porn at the end of the game? No, sorry, revenge porn is a fucked up phrase. It’s more like image-based sexual assault. That’s what you’re holding over her, huh?”

Prue shrugged and spun on her heel. I grabbed her shoulder; she shrieked, but it was too late for her to react. I pulled the backpack full of kittens off her shoulders. Chet returned, and Prue screeched that I’d stolen from her. He called over to me, and I shot him a middle finger. “I’m not done with either of you. But right now, I’ve got shit to do.”

Outside, I kicked down my skateboard, kittens meowing at my back, and skated in the direction of Fauna’s apartment.

An hour later, I pushed my key into the door ofmyapartment, surprised when it clicked open. My brother hadn’t changed the locks—not yet, at least.

Trevor paused, mid rummage through the refrigerator. “Hey.”

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