Scott insisted on taking us back to his apartment. He claimed that he was beat, and our houses were too far. Even though they weren’t more than ten minutes away. Naomi didn’t put up much of a protest.
“Don’t worry—he’s got a comfy couch,” Naomi said as I got out of the car.
Scott headed upstairs to his apartment without speaking to either of us. Most of the ride here consisted of him bragging about winning the race, and Naomi nodding and staring out the window.
“I want to go home.” I checked the time on my cell. One thirty a.m. My mind was racing, but my body felt achy and weak. I needed sleep. “Maybe we can call Justin.”
She put her hands on my shoulders, grinding her teeth. “He’s probably asleep. Look, I need to talk to Scott for a few minutes, and then I’ll see if I can get us a ride. Roger is probably still up.”
I followed her up the cracked steps to Scott’s apartment. Naomi pushed the door open and let me in first. A gigantic flat-screen TV with massive speakers sat opposite a black leather couch. The kitchen bar was lined with bottles of wine and hard liquor. He even had art hanging on the walls—which struck me as odd. The apartment complex itself was pretty ghetto. The kind Mom and I could only stay in for so long.
“Nice digs, right?” Naomi smirked.
“How does he afford all this?”
She raised her eyebrows. “How do you think?”
I shrugged. For all I knew, he robbed banks.
Scott paced around the kitchen, talking on the phone. Tattoos covered his shirtless back. Most of them were black and red with sharp edges and wavy lines. “What am I—Domino’s? Fuck that. Come over and I’ll show you,” he said.
Naomi walked over to a shelf of CDs and pulled a few out, scanning the track lists.
“Hey.” Scott walked into the living room, covering the mouthpiece. “Put those back where you found ’em.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved a couple back into their slots.
“So walk,” Scott said into the phone. “Your transportation issues aren’t my problem.” His eyes met mine and a small smile crept across his face. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”
I looked down at the dark brown carpet, staying near the front door. Scott mumbled a word that sounded like later and hung up.
“You gonna sit down?” he asked me.
I shrugged, keeping my elbows close to my body.
“We’re going to take off,” Naomi said, standing up. “But I want to talk to you first.”
“Yeah?” He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
She pulled away. Her hands were still shaking. “Not like that—I mean it.”
“Thought you were staying over.” Scott raked a hand through his shaggy blond hair and motioned in my direction. “Your friend can take the couch. Or she can join us.” He poked at her ribs and laughed.
Naomi flipped him off. “Why do you have to be such a pig?” She pushed past him and settled into the leather couch.
I backed into the cold wall, wishing I could disappear.
Scott folded his bulky arms across his chest. His grin faded into a thin line. “I don’t have time for your drama, Naomi. You wanna go home, go. Take your weird friend with you.”
I sucked in my breath. “I’m not weird.”
He cupped his hand behind his ear. “What was that?”
My heart thudded in my chest. “You don’t deserve Naomi,” I said. “You’re a jerk.”
Scott shook his head and walked over to me. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“You wanna look me in the eye and say that?”
“Leave her alone,” Naomi said. Her voice was behind him now.
“No. I want to hear what this stuck-up little bitch has to say.” His breath smelled sour and bitter—like old cigarettes.
My throat felt like it was closing up on me. “I want to go home, Naomi. Now.”
“I want to go home, Naomi,” Scott said in a high voice. “Word of advice—don’t run your mouth off about something you know nothin’ about.”
“Scott,” Naomi whispered, “let’s go in your room and talk, okay?”
His hot breath fell on my forehead. I bit down on my tongue until it ached—anything to hold in the scream building inside me.
A few more seconds passed before their footsteps moved toward the bedroom.
“That chick is a fuckin’ freak,” Scott said, shutting the door behind them.
My knees gave out and I slid against the wall until my tailbone hit the floor. I nuzzled my face into my knees and exhaled a breathy scream. The tightness in my throat unraveled some, but there was so much left. So much I wanted to say and couldn’t.
Their voices rose behind the door, and my fingers went cold. Naomi cussed. And Scott cussed back. She kept asking him why. And he wouldn’t give her a real answer. I fished out my phone and stared at Justin’s name. He’d told me to call him, but did that mean in the middle of the night? I shut my brain off and pressed dial.
He answered after the first ring. “Hey, Drea.”
“Did I wake you up?”
“Nah, I was writing in that journal for English.”
“They’re fighting in Scott’s room. I want to go home, but I don’t want to leave her alone with him.”
“What’s the address?”
“Crap, I don’t know.” I got up and parted the blinds hanging over Scott’s window. “It’s too dark to see the sign.”
“Does he have mail lying around somewhere?”
My knees wobbled as I wandered into the kitchen. A mess of papers covered the table. I fished an envelope out. It was sticky with something.
“Found a telephone bill,” I said. “It’s 1401 Madison Street—apartment 239.”
“Got it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Someone banged on the door about four minutes later. I was sitting at the kitchen table, still clutching my cell phone. Too early to be Justin—unless he lived on this side of town. Every nerve in my body turned to ice.
Scott barreled out of the bedroom and glared at the phone in my hand. “You call the cops?” He made a move toward me, but the banging continued. He snuck up to the door and looked into the peephole. His shoulders relaxed at whoever was standing outside.
“Don’t pound on the door like that, jackass,” Scott said, opening the door.
This was followed by male laughter. Two guys walked in. One had long, frizzy hair and the other wore a beanie and about a billion facial piercings. Frizz Head made himself at home on the couch, and Beanie Guy followed Scott into the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Beanie Guy nodded at me.
I looked down and hightailed it to the front door. Their eyes burned into me.
“I think she’s retarded or something,” Scott said.
“Dude, that was cold.” Beanie whispered something else I couldn’t hear, and they both laughed.
“Hey,” Frizz said from the couch, “you gonna let him talk about you like that?”
“Naomi?” I called, keeping my eyes focused on a hole in the wall. “Where are you?”
“I’m coming,” she said, tearing out of the room. “Sorry.” Her eyes darted from the couch to the kitchen.
“Justin’s coming to pick us up,” I said.
“Hey, Naomi!” Beanie called. “What’s wrong with your friend?”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s got standards.”
Scott leaned toward him. “That’s all she does, man. Stands in corners all hunched over. You say hi to her and she does this twitchy thing like—”
“We can hear you!” Naomi said.
“She’s kinda hot, though,” Beanie said back. Like I wasn’t even in the room. Like I didn’t matter.
Naomi wrapped her arms around me. “Ignore them.”
Frizz switched the TV on, cranking up the volume. Some cartoon roared through the apartment.
Scott walked over and clicked it off. “I got neighbors that bitch if I fart too loud, okay?” Another knock echoed around the apartment. “Who’s that?”