Page 50 of Choke

“What?”

“Hey, man.” Ronan sounds… different.

My tone remains flat, “Ronan.”

“So, uh, listen. I don’t know what’s going on…”

What the fuck?

“Okay, so why are you calling me?” My heart rate is accelerating, but I can’t tell him.

“Well…it’s…”

“Ronan, spit it the fuck out. What do you want?”

“Claire is here.”

My head snaps back as if I’ve been hit, and the phone falls from its spot. I fumble to grab it before it slams onto the tile floor and bring it back to my ear.

“Where? What do you mean?”

He hesitates, and it’s all I need. I move out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time, reaching my room in under 15 seconds. I am pulling on jeans and a sweater when he finally answers.

“I don’t know, man. She walked in with Jordan Ellis about five minutes ago.”

I can hear it in his voice; he hates being the one to tell me this, but he likely also knows he’s the only person I would believe.

“Ellis.” I repeat, “Guy from the Wolverines?”

“Yeah, man. Him. He walked in with his arm around her shoulders, looking like he fuckin’ owned the place. If he wasn’t with her, I would have thrown him out, but I figured you should see this first hand.”

My feet move on their own accord, and I drop into the driver seat of my old pickup before I realize I’ve even left the house.

“I’m on my way,” I grind out, “And Ronan, do not tell a fucking soul I’m coming there.”

I hang up and slam my fist into the dash of my truck.

“FUCK!”

The drive typically takes twenty minutes, but I make it in about nine, sliding it onto the front lawn. I don’t even think I turn it off before I storm for the front door. A small group of people smoking outside step back, except some fucking guy on the basketball team who steps forward and slams his hand on my shoulder

“Liberty! Didn’t think we were seeing you tonight.”

He’s being friendly, but all I want is destruction, and I shove him backward, his back hitting the railing before he flies over it, landing in the garden Ronan’s mother works on daily. I open the door, ignoring the curses that rain at me from the group.

I shoulder through the crowd of people, a mix of kids from school and our rival school, Weston Heights. The music is loud; the base vibrates my chest. I scan the room, looking for her, but she’s not there. More people call my name as I stalk down the hall toward the kitchen in the back of the house, where I find Ronan sitting on the counter, beer in hand. His eyes shift to mine—he looks guilty. He hops down and walks to me, holding out a beer.

I’m breathing hard; my chest feels full of dynamite. The heat of rage runs through every inch of me. Ronan shakes his head, but only enough for me to see it.

“Do not tear my fuckin’ house down, man. My parents will kill me.”

I lift the beer to my lips, draining it.

“Where is she?”

I’m going to kill someone.

His gaze shifts around the room before returning to me.

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