throw up again.
“Get off me,” I say through gritted teeth, pushing his hand off my arm.
Malachi is leaning against the door of his van, arms folded across his chest, watching the little exchange between Finn and I.
“Chris….” Finn hisses, grabbing a pair of worn-out trainers just outside his door, shoving them on his feet and following me across the grass.
I catch Malachi’s eye, and for a second he holds my gaze, but it’s like staring into the sun.
“Chris!” Finn grabs my arm again and spins me round. “Just stop, will you!”
The sun bears down fiercely. The heat of it seeps inside me like poison, burning through my veins.
“Just fuck off and leave me alone!” I snap.
Of all things, Finn looks hurt. As if I have wounded him . His expression only serves to make me angrier. He has no fucking right to look hurt, and he has no fucking right to touch me.
Pixie watches, clueless, from the doorway to Finn’s van, a cardigan now pulled over her T-shirt and briefs, and her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The sight of her pushes me over the edge. It’s all too much, I don’t know what to do with everything I’m feeling. I clench my fist, and for a second everything goes glaringly, brightly white before I hit him.
It happens so fast, I don’t even feel my fist connect, but it does because he doesn’t block me. My arm jars with the force of it. Finn staggers back, holding his jaw. When he bends over, he spits out blood. My ears are ringing. I stare at my aching hand, at the imprint of a tooth on my knuckle. I must have hit him quite hard.
Pixie rushes over, shouting if he’s okay, and I back away, unable to work out why I just struck out like that. I wasn’t even thinking.
“Nice right hook,” Malachi’s deep voice says next to my ear. “But if you stand there looking like you’re going to faint afterwards, you’ll get fed to the wolves. Come on.”
Shakily I follow him, staring at the ground as curtains draw back and faces crowd at the windows, eyes following me like sharks scenting blood.
Shane walks with me like a shield.
Once the three of us are inside, Malachi closes the door. After the blinding sunlight, this gloom is near impenetrable. I feel my way towards the nearest seat and collapse down onto it, my head in my hands. I don’t feel bad about hitting Finn, but I still wish I hadn’t done it. All I want is to know where Jay has gone.
Someone puts an arm around my back. I want it to be Malachi, but I don’t look in case it’s not. It’s only there for a few seconds.
“I’ll deal with this,” I hear Malachi say quietly to Shane somewhere above my head. “You go deal with the drama queen out there.”
“Why does everything involving either you or him always turn into some sort of fucking drama?”
“Yeah, well, you need to go stop anything getting out of hand. Finn is not going to listen to a word I say.”
Someone sighs. The van door opens, then closes.
“Want to talk about it?”
The seat shifts as Malachi sits down. I shake my head.
A bottle of something cold touches my fingertips. I push it back to him, irritated that he would offer me alcohol after how sick I was. “I’m never drinking again,” I mumble.
“Well, as a flat rule that’s got an obvious flaw—if you don’t drink, never might only be three or four days.”
I move my hands to cup my face, my elbows pushed into my knees. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness again. “Being drunk just fucks everything up.”
“Or smoothes out everything you fuck up, depending on how you look at it.” He gives me a wry smile and takes a deep draught from the cold bottle.
“It’s water,” he says, holding it out to me again.
I take a sip from the bottle, feel the cool water run down my throat.
“You argue about something with Jay last night?”
I look at him, rubbing my aching knuckle before just shaking my head and staring at my hands. “He was just upset and drunk.”
When I look up again,
“Get off me,” I say through gritted teeth, pushing his hand off my arm.
Malachi is leaning against the door of his van, arms folded across his chest, watching the little exchange between Finn and I.
“Chris….” Finn hisses, grabbing a pair of worn-out trainers just outside his door, shoving them on his feet and following me across the grass.
I catch Malachi’s eye, and for a second he holds my gaze, but it’s like staring into the sun.
“Chris!” Finn grabs my arm again and spins me round. “Just stop, will you!”
The sun bears down fiercely. The heat of it seeps inside me like poison, burning through my veins.
“Just fuck off and leave me alone!” I snap.
Of all things, Finn looks hurt. As if I have wounded him . His expression only serves to make me angrier. He has no fucking right to look hurt, and he has no fucking right to touch me.
Pixie watches, clueless, from the doorway to Finn’s van, a cardigan now pulled over her T-shirt and briefs, and her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The sight of her pushes me over the edge. It’s all too much, I don’t know what to do with everything I’m feeling. I clench my fist, and for a second everything goes glaringly, brightly white before I hit him.
It happens so fast, I don’t even feel my fist connect, but it does because he doesn’t block me. My arm jars with the force of it. Finn staggers back, holding his jaw. When he bends over, he spits out blood. My ears are ringing. I stare at my aching hand, at the imprint of a tooth on my knuckle. I must have hit him quite hard.
Pixie rushes over, shouting if he’s okay, and I back away, unable to work out why I just struck out like that. I wasn’t even thinking.
“Nice right hook,” Malachi’s deep voice says next to my ear. “But if you stand there looking like you’re going to faint afterwards, you’ll get fed to the wolves. Come on.”
Shakily I follow him, staring at the ground as curtains draw back and faces crowd at the windows, eyes following me like sharks scenting blood.
Shane walks with me like a shield.
Once the three of us are inside, Malachi closes the door. After the blinding sunlight, this gloom is near impenetrable. I feel my way towards the nearest seat and collapse down onto it, my head in my hands. I don’t feel bad about hitting Finn, but I still wish I hadn’t done it. All I want is to know where Jay has gone.
Someone puts an arm around my back. I want it to be Malachi, but I don’t look in case it’s not. It’s only there for a few seconds.
“I’ll deal with this,” I hear Malachi say quietly to Shane somewhere above my head. “You go deal with the drama queen out there.”
“Why does everything involving either you or him always turn into some sort of fucking drama?”
“Yeah, well, you need to go stop anything getting out of hand. Finn is not going to listen to a word I say.”
Someone sighs. The van door opens, then closes.
“Want to talk about it?”
The seat shifts as Malachi sits down. I shake my head.
A bottle of something cold touches my fingertips. I push it back to him, irritated that he would offer me alcohol after how sick I was. “I’m never drinking again,” I mumble.
“Well, as a flat rule that’s got an obvious flaw—if you don’t drink, never might only be three or four days.”
I move my hands to cup my face, my elbows pushed into my knees. My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness again. “Being drunk just fucks everything up.”
“Or smoothes out everything you fuck up, depending on how you look at it.” He gives me a wry smile and takes a deep draught from the cold bottle.
“It’s water,” he says, holding it out to me again.
I take a sip from the bottle, feel the cool water run down my throat.
“You argue about something with Jay last night?”
I look at him, rubbing my aching knuckle before just shaking my head and staring at my hands. “He was just upset and drunk.”
When I look up again,
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