Crown of Thorns

4

The next couple of mornings unfold much like Monday. I wake up. Go for a run. Shower. Get dressed for school. Find Jasper at the kitchen table, muttering at his phone and looking more haggard than ever, despite his new haircut. On Tuesday, I simply overlook him because it’s the second day of school and nobody needs that kind of negativity in their life.

I start Wednesday with the same idea—avoiding the headache that comes from engaging with Jasper.

I drape my gray sweater vest over the back of a chair and grab the box of cereal off the fridge, humming to drown out my brother while I prepare myself a bowl. It doesn’t work. The longer I listen to his fingers fly across his phone screen, the more I grind my teeth and the angrier my humming becomes. And the more I hear his phone buzz with a barrage of incoming messages, the harder I slam cabinet doors and drawers.

“Stupid bitch,” he growls under his breath.

I’m positive he’s not talking to me, but something inside of me unravels.

Abandoning my cereal, I whirl on him, my short nails biting into my palms. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

Hoisting his attention from his phone and plate of overcooked eggs, he narrows his brown eyes. “You’re bitching. Why?”

Where do I even start? “You’re scaring me, that’s why.”

“So? You’re scared of everything. What the fuck else is new?”

Swallowing hard, I focus on the toes of my navy oxfords. I hate him for saying that. Hate that there’s truth in his statement and I am afraid, even as I mutter, “You’re wrong. And you’re wrong if you don’t think I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That’s bullshit. When I got home from visiting Nina last night, I walked in to find him on the phone, screaming at someone that “going back wasn’t part of their plan.” I told him point-blank that he was reaching all new levels of shadiness, so he ordered me to get the fuck out of his face. He spent the rest of the night checking his phone and glancing out the windows.

Like he’s waiting for someone.

Now, I meet his sneer with one of my own. “If someone’s going to show up and start shooting up the place, you need to give me a heads up. Or is it your goal to—”

He slams a fist on the table, hitching my breath. “Don’t you need to get ready for that preppy-as-fuck school of yours? I didn’t have to work it out so you could stay there, so shut your mouth and be grateful.”

I am grateful, but he’s just brought up another mystery. Thanks to our grandmother’s full-time position as the head of Ravenwood’s janitorial staff, I was able to attend school free of charge. When she was no longer able to work, the status of that money became a big question mark. Unbeknownst to me, Jasper had contacted the school and paid my tuition in full for my final year. The only reason I even found out was that the financial aid office let me know when I contacted them about working part-time after school.

“Where’d you even get that kind of money? You paid almost forty grand, Jas. What did you do to get it? Is that what happened to your car or did you—”

“I’m done with this shit!” He scoots backward with so much force our flimsy table slams into the wall and his plate shatters to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. He steps around them, his jaw set in an angry line as he stalks toward the doorway. I try to block him from leaving, but he grasps my shoulders and shoves me aside.

Like I’m nothing.

“Jasper,” I whisper, but he keeps going, heading straight for the front door like he doesn’t even hear me. Rage boils through me, hot and savage. “I’m fucking talking to you, Ghost!”

He stiffens. Swivels around to look at me like he’s seen a real ghost.

“The fuck you just say?” he rasps, barreling toward me.

I meet him halfway. I’ve never used the nickname, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know what he’s called when he’s outside this house. It was a joke at first—something the boys at school had mockingly called him because his first name is so similar to the friendly little ghost. The nickname stuck. And Jasper’d always used his fists and smart-ass mouth to make sure they knew he was anything but friendly.

“What did you say?” he repeats.

“You heard me. You don’t think I remember all the shady people that used to show up looking for Ghost? I do. I remember the way they stared at me and how they scared Nina. You don’t think I’ve heard the rumors about you?” I pause to take a breath. “So, I’m asking you again, Ghost. What. Did. You. Do?”

“So, you’re brave now, huh?” He laughs at me, even though a vein pulses beneath the tattoo on his neck and it’s obvious he doesn’t find anything about this conversation fu

Whoa.

He’s never talked to me like this, and the air whooshes right out of my lungs. “I’m not worthless,” I manage, but my stomach heaves. “And you do owe me because I love you and I’m worried about you. If that makes me worthless...”

I can’t even finish. Some of the rage fades from his eyes, but it’s replaced by a weariness that shreds my heart to ribbons. He drags a tattooed hand over his face and shakes his head. “Yossy, I—”

I shake my head. “I don’t want your fucking apologies, Jasper; I just want the truth.”

In an instant, that weary expression is gone, and the ice-cold mask takes over his features again. “Go to school,” he orders, his voice hard. “Stay out of my business.”

Before I can utter a word of response, he’s gone.

My brother dominates my thoughts the entire day.

I shuffle around campus like there’s an anchor is tied around my ankle that’s not only dragging me down but cutting off my circulation, too. Like a fool, I text him during lunch, but he doesn’t get back to me. It’s not surprising—after all, he’s gone weeks without answering my messages—but it highlights a bitter truth: We’re so toxic, it’s absolutely sickening.

Family’s not supposed to be like that.

As I’m walking from lunch to Spanish class, I’m so distracted by my thoughts, I don’t see the person directly in my path until it’s too late. We collide hard enough to push a gasp of air from my lips, and I stumble back, more than a little dazed and confused as I slam into a locker.

“I’m so sorry,” I immediately blurt out, bracing myself for a scathing retort.

“You should be, you crushed my way out of gym,” a soft voice informs me, but it’s laced with amusement. I push strands of black hair out of my face and watch as Reina wrinkles her nose at the broken cigarette she’s holding. “Looks like I’ll have to rely on old-fashioned bitchery instead of setting off the sprinklers.”

“Sorry?”

“I swear you get off on apologizing.” But a grin splits her face. “It was a joke. I actually had no plans to go to class this afternoon and was headed to the beach.”

“Oh.”

“I—” She rolls her hazel eyes toward the ceiling when the bell interrupts her. I start to walk away, but she stops me by grabbing my wrist. “Hey, do me a favor and say something to your friend?”

I frown. “Which friend and what am I saying?”

“You know, the redhead who sticks her pancake ass out when she walks. She is your friend, right?” I give a slow nod, so she continues, “Can you let her know she’s making a fool of herself with my cousin?”