Page 45 of The Venom We Bleed

There’s obviously something there with her words, some dark past or maybe even present. Though a part of me wants to offer my condolences or even reassurances, I keep my mouth shut. If anything, my current predicament pretty much solidifies that I have no business trying to help anyone. I can’t even help myself. A quiet tension settles in the vehicle as we wait several more minutes and then a dark figure appears at the top of a fence two houses down from where we’re parked. My eyes widen as I lean forward and realize it’s Madison.

The girl is agile as she climbs and swings both of her legs over the fence before dropping down into a crouch. She stays hunched over and runs down the length of the first house and then the second before she straightens and slows her pace.

“Her house is another street over,” Roquel quietly explains. “She asked me to park here so her parents wouldn’t get suspicious and she just climbed her back neighbors' gates.”

“Damn,” I breathe. “She should be an athlete with those skills.”

That comment more than anything else, I think, breaks the awkwardness and Roquel flashes me an amused smile. “She is,” she admits. “She runs track and field.” Almost as soon as the words are out of her mouth, though, her lips twist into a scowl. “For people like us, you have to either be an athlete or a genius to get ahead. She’ll get a scholarship eventually and get out from under her parents’ thumbs.”

I nod my agreement as Mads gets closer to the vehicle, peers in, and then smiles and waves as she moves toward the back passenger door next to the sidewalk. The door opens with a metal creak and then thuds shut as she scoots inside and pulls on her seatbelt.

“All set?” Roquel asks as she flips her lights back on and buckles herself.

“Yup,” Mads responds, offering me a small smile.

Roquel does a three-point turn, forgoing pulling into one of the driveways, and soon we’re off, heading towards the edge of Silverwood.

I’m not one for small talk, but with Mads, she makes it easy. As Roquel drives us farther and farther from the town limits of Silverwood, I focus on Mads to keep myself from throwing up or grabbing the wheel from her fucking hands. If I’d known how bad of a driver Roquel would be, I don’t know that I would’ve agreed to come to this thing.

Mads and I chat about anything and everything. To my surprise, she’s not just good at hopping fences, but she’s a straight-A student. Makes me wonder how she came to have such a douche for a boyfriend or how he managed to take advantage of her last year. Then I think of Brandon and Avery and remember that I’d had the same kind of douches for both a boyfriend and best friend. Unwilling to let them take up any more space in my head, I push them out of my mind and focus on the passing scenery as Roquel’s Camry starts to slow, rattling as she turns onto a dirt driveway, splitting a line of dark trees.

There are no streetlights out in the country, so the dual headlights at the front of the car are the only illumination—sending dusky yellow beams out over the dirt road. We travel several more minutes until the line of trees is disrupted.

I didn’t even realize that I’d been tensing up until the sight of an old, dilapidated farmhouse comes into view along with several bonfires situated around the property. There are dozens of cars all parked haphazardly around each other at various angles as if the drivers were either already drunk when they arrived or that was their attempt at making sure no one could box them in.

“We’re here!” Roquel crows excitedly, her little car slowing even more even though her body seems to be vibrating in the driver’s seat.

The Camry jerks to a stop and my chest slams into the seatbelt, knocking the air from my lungs. Before I manage to unbuckle myself, Roquel has already hopped out. Mads and I exchange a look before following her out of the vehicle at a much slower pace. The second we get out, the scent of cheap alcohol and gasoline hits me. My upper lip curls back in disgust and Roquel flashes me a warning look as she adjusts her top a bit lower.

“Don’t start,” she says. “We’re here for a reason—to have fun.”

“And to show Megan that Juliet isn’t scared of her?” Mads adds in a questioning but amused tone.

Roquel and I both turn to look at her.

She shrugs. “I’m not stupid. I knew that was the only way you’d convince her to come,” she says to Roquel.

“I don’t give a fuck about Megan.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms as a breeze drifts by. I’m glad I opted for the longer-sleeved flannel rather than something like Roquel’s outfit as she shudders and then turns to march toward the fires.

“Come on!” she calls over her shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink.”

Mads hesitates, glancing at me. “Isn’t she driving?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I’m not planning on drinking,” I tell her. “I can drive us back.”

Mads considers that for a moment and then sighs. “Do you have her keys?”

My eyes widen when I realize I don’t, and Roquel is already halfway to the party, leaving the two of us behind. “Fuck,” I mutter and start to pick up the pace.

Soft, feminine laughter at my back has me pausing and glancing over my shoulder as Mads chuckles. “And that,” she admits, “is the real reason I came. Roquel’s pretty known for not being able to come to parties on her own, but then ditching whoever she’s with the second she gets here if they can’t keep up. She means well, but…” Mads shrugs as if to say there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

A groan rumbles up my chest. “Ugh, I really don’t want to do this,” I tell her, reaching up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “If I knew she’d ditch, I would’ve?—”

Sharp, squealing laughter echoes down from the top of the hill we parked on towards the farmhouse and bonfires. I cut myself off and glance up just in time to see Roquel rushingtowards a beefy guy I think I’ve seen sitting around the footballers' table in the cafeteria at school. Hudson Grey—the guy’s name is stamped to my mind because of how much she talked about him from my place to Madison’s.

Hudson’s face scrunches up for a split second when he spots Roquel, but he doesn’t push her away when she dives for his arms and hugs him. I shake my head with sympathy. She’s obviously way more into him than he is into her, but like any teenage boy, he leers down at her low-cut top to the rounded curves of her tits. Then he cops a feel of her ass and she laughs, swatting at him playfully. I grind my teeth together until my molars ache in protest.

I’m not sure if we're friends or not, but there aren’t many classmates who have been as neutral as Roquel. At the very least, I appreciate the fact that she helped me get a job. I really hope that asshole doesn’t break her heart. The Silverwood Police Department would likely love nothing more than to arrest me for shattering his kneecaps with a baseball bat.

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