Page 155 of The Ruthless Note

“Why the hell was that lighter in there?” Sol asks absently. He flings himself back on the chair and stares at the ceiling.

I glance over to find Finn watching me. He shakes his head.

Zane flashes me a worried look. “Sol, you want to explain what’s going on?”

Sol keeps staring at the ceiling as if the movie of his life is rolling up there.

“I only came to Redwood Prep because I wanted to be where you guys were.”

At the broken tone of his voice, something icy slides down my neck.

“What happened, Sol?” Finn asks, looking straight at Sol with sharp, unflinching eyes. If it weren’t for the slight tremble of his lips, Finn would seem totally uninterested in the answer.

Sol doesn’t look at either of us. He just keeps talking. “My mom was just the lady who cleaned your house. You didn’t have to include me in your band. You didn’t have to feed me from your table. You didn’t have to come over to my house and become my family.” He shakes his head. “But you did. And I always felt like I owed you for that. It was so stupid. You were my friends and I was grateful.”

“Sol,” I insist, “what happened this morning?”

He turns his head to the side, and the sunlight falls over his profile. It makes him look delicate and boyish, reminding me of the Sol we used to know long before the world beat the crap out of us.

“My therapist says I have a strong sense of loyalty and a low self-image. Do you know what that means?” He shakes his head and chuckles a bit. “It means even if someone treated me nicely once, just once, I’d be ready to die for them. Like a dog.”

I hold myself still. So still it’s like I’m not even here anymore.

Zane opens his mouth to interrupt, but I lift a hand and indicate that he stop.

Sol is losing himself.

To sadness.

To regret.

Toanger.

I can feel the rage sizzling right under the tones of his voice. Just like I can hear it when I play my guitar. The voice is an instrument too. It’s just vibrations and air and rhythm.

Sol is angry and we don’t need to set him off right now.

Zane steps back, but his shoulders are hiked. He looks disturbed.

My twin is always uncomfortable when someone is being too honest. He’d prefer to grin—always with that grin—and act like nothing could ever hurt him. Seeing other people strip down until they’re bare freaks him out.

Especially when that someone is one of us.

But Sol needs to get this off his chest. I can feel it.

A dry laugh escapes Sol’s mouth. He runs a hand over his face, still looking hopelessly at the ceiling.

“Have you guys ever been called a dog? Not likely, huh? Dogs bark when they’re told. They bite when they’re told. They sit and roll over. But if they don’t have a purpose, they’re just there. Waiting. Just waiting for something to happen. For someone to give them an instruction. Do you know how suffocating that is? To wait?”

Zane curses and moves around to the fridge where he takes out a bottle of beer and guzzles it.

Sol’s nostrils flare. “Abuela had this dog once. Bruno. He was a stray that she picked up one day. Took him home and tried to get him to behave. But Bruno didn’t know what that word meant. Every time abuela would lock him in her room when she went to mass, she’d come back to a room filled with toilet paper and torn clothes and crap everywhere…”

There’s another dry laugh from Sol and this one seems even more devoid of humor than the last.

His expression grows colds suddenly. Eyes hardening. Hands shaking. “Dogs can destroy too, you know. If you leave them long enough. If the energy builds, it needs an outlet. They’re not only loyal all the time.”

Sol goes silent.

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