Falls Boys

 

 

 

Hawke

 

I watch her speed off, not taking the direction home, but I don’t care to worry about it.

What was Dylan thinking? Weston is bad enough, but Green Street won’t stop. She doesn’t want them on her ass.

I see Schuyler covering her mouth, blood dripping.

It was bad back in the day, the rivalry. But only to the point of being mildly dangerous—the clashes at the Loop between the Pirates from the Falls and the Rebels from Weston—but things had changed a lot in twenty years. Our town got richer—with people like my father and my uncles succeeding and giving back with jobs and events that brought in revenue—and Weston got poorer.

But struggle isn’t always a bad thing. Only when we’re desperate do we dig in, and Weston found ways to brace themselves. They’ve risen. Disgracefully, but still.

And all in ways that are illegal.

Bella and Socorro pull Schuyler off the floor, and I approach. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

She just turns, whimpering and ru

She’s bleeding hard. She’ll need stitches, probably. Pretty sure she’s never been hit in her life.

I start to follow her but stop. She broke up with me. She’ll ask for help if she needs it.

Spotting Dylan, I pull out a chair at her table, Kade taking a seat next to me. He holds our cash in his hand. “We need to send a message,” he tells me. “We’ve got enough problems with St. Matt’s, and I don’t want you leaving me to deal with Weston, too.”

I start at Clarke University, my dad’s old school, in a couple of weeks, and Kade will be a senior. He bitches about what’s ahead of him, but honestly, he can’t wait. Grudge Night, senior year, football, and Rivalry Week—he’s waited for his chance to be in charge.

“She’s not over here as a Rebel,” I retort. “She’s a shallow, senseless, little punk, soon-to-be inmate at Stateville Prison.” And then I give Dylan a look, only her long, dark lashes visible from underneath her baseball cap as she plunges the tortilla chip into the queso. “If you all would just stop buying from them…”

She shoots her eyes up. “I had no choice,” she tells me. “Every time I had a missing assignment last year, my dad took my phone. I need a spare before school starts.”

“Or you could just stop missing assignments?”

“Can’t.” She shrugs, stuffing the chip into her mouth. “Too busy looking for you while you’re skipping classes.”

I shake my head.

But I shut up. She always does that. That younger cousin thing, looking at me with her mom’s storm-blue eyes and her dad’s big, bright smile that she uses a hell of a lot more than he does and saying that she’s just following my example and she’ll do as I do, not as I say. I have a perfect GPA. I can afford to miss classes.

“Here.” Kade hands me my money, pocketing the rest that was his.

I take it and dig in my back pocket for my wallet. “And all that bullshit with St. Matt’s is on you,” I tell him. “You can deal with your own brother.”

He purses his lips and looks off, knowing I’m not leaving him with any messes that I made.

I switch hands, checking the other pocket.

“Well, if we’re all just too small town for you, Hawke,” Dylan chimes in, “why’d you decide to go to college so close to home?”

But as I dig in my pockets and come up empty, realization hits and Dylan’s words are lost on me.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

I jerk my eyes up to her and then to the door. Shit!

Dylan gasps. “She didn’t…” She gapes at me, and then…she throws her head back, pealing with laughter. “Oh my God. That’s fantastic.”

Seriously? Whose side is she on?

An alert hits on my phone, and I pull it out, staring at the notification.

 

JT Alarm 08 Activated. Do you need assistance?

 

Oh, no. My wallet. My card key to the race shop.

I dart my gaze up to Dylan. “Move!” I order and then look to Kade. “Now!’’

They don’t ask why. They bolt, scrambling out of their chairs and follow me out of the bar. We dash across the street to Kade’s truck. He tosses me the keys. “I can’t afford another ticket,” he says. “You drive.”

We climb in, and I start the engine, shifting into Drive before speeding away from the curb. The seatbelt alarm sounds, but I ignore it, turning left and then right. The shop is less than two blocks away.

“I’ll text Dirk and Stoli,” Kade says, tapping away on his phone and messaging our friends. “We may need help.”

I hope not. She’d better not be bringing more of them over here.

I jerk the wheel, barreling into the parking lot and hear the alarm. I slam on the brakes.

Dylan’s phone rings, and I jump out of the truck, looking for the girl.

Or Tommy.

For a light, a movement. Anything.

I spot the broken glass, one of the panels on the front of the shop shattered on the floor inside, and I peer up to the second floor, still not seeing her.

Fuck it. I step inside, not caring if she has a weapon on her.

“Hi,” I hear Dylan say behind me. “Code 9556732, last name Trent, password Madman.”

She follows me, her phone pressing over her light brown hair to her ear underneath, but Kade pulls her back. “Dylan, no.” He points to the glass and her flipflops. “Stay here.”

She nods, trying to listen to the security company on the phone. “Yeah, send the police.”

My parents and Dylan’s are out of town tonight, but they’ll still get the alert. They’ll be calling any minute.

I look around, the whole place dark and not a sound. I scan the first floor, taking inventory of my uncle Jared’s equipment, my dad’s computers, the bikes and cars—everything in the same exact state as when I left earlier today.

“I don’t see anyone,” Kade says.

“Okay,” Dylan says into her phone. “Thanks.” She hangs up, looking at us. “Cops are on their way.”

Other than the broken window, everything’s fine. There’s no sign of her or the Dietrich kid. What…? Did she really just come here to break a window? Why steal my wallet then?

“She had to know there’d be a security system,” Dylan says. “This isn’t smart.”

No, it’s not. Why—?

Then it occurs to me. I pat down my pockets again, noting both my missing wallet and my missing keys.

My chest caves. “It’s not smart,” I exhale. “It’s a decoy.”

Kade and Dylan glance at each other, but I run. “Stay here!” I shout, racing to the truck. “Handle the police.”

“Hawke!” Dylan calls.

Followed by Kade. “Hawke!”

But I’m gone. Slamming the door, I take off, flying out of the lot and speeding home. Son of a bitch.

She knew we had a security system. She’s not smart. She’s a diabolical little shithead, who knew exactly what to do to get me and the police anywhere but where she was going to be.

“Goddammit.” I lock my jaw, more disappointed in how I let this happen.

When did she get my wallet and keys? It had to be when I was carrying her. How did I not feel that? “For Christ’s sake,” I hiss, feeling stupid.

I drive down Fall Away Lane but kill the headlights and pull over to the side, a few houses down from mine. I don’t want her to know I’m coming.

She was alone—or only with the kid anyway—at the bar, and I’m not scared of Tommy Dietrich. As long as the Rebel didn’t call in backup from Weston, I’ll get her out of my house before she has the chance to fuck anything up.