The Wrong Side of Kai Page 7

  “You haven’t told me what your reason for doing this is,” I say with an edge to my voice, hoping I can coerce him into telling me. “You said it wasn’t a football thing. What, then?”

  Kai smirks, but doesn’t look up, only inks Operation Harr-assassinate in 3D writing so that it looks like graffiti on the page. “I also said it was a personal thing.”

  “And you don’t think my sex life is personal?” I fire back, pursing my lips at him. “C’mon, you know my motive. Now tell me yours.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” he says with great enthusiasm, avoiding my question and changing the subject back to the real matter at hand. “Do you know where Harrison lives?”

  “Over in Brookstone. I only ever saw his basement.”

  Kai raises an eyebrow, then shakes his head. “I don’t even want to ask,” he says, then adds the name of Harrison’s neighborhood to our notes. So far, the page could do with some more details; it’s looking a little empty. “How easy do you think it’d be to get inside his house?”

  I stare at him. Is he kidding? “I mean, not that hard . . . but why do we need to get inside? Can’t we just throw eggs at the windows or something?”

  “Too easy,” Kai says, placing the pen between his teeth, chewing thoughtfully. “We need to steal some of his stuff. Like sentimental stuff that can’t be replaced.”

  An uneasy feeling bubbles inside of me. Is it too harsh, too cruel, to do this to Harrison . . .? But then I remember that he didn’t care when he shared that video. He didn’t care that it would hurt me. He didn’t care what it would do to me. I have too much anger inside of me that needs to be released somehow – and this is how I’m going to do it.

  “His parents are super strict. He and his dad grab dinner at Bob Evans every Wednesday,” I blurt. It’s about the only personal detail I know about Harrison’s life away from school, and the only reason I know this tidbit of information is because we never met up on Wednesdays.

  “Write this down,” Kai urges, pushing the notepad across the table. He hands me his chewed-up pen, which I reluctantly take. “Anything you know that could give us opportunities. Anything that we could use against him. Like, does he still sleep with a stuffed bear? That kinda stuff.”

  I still sleep with a stuffed bear, so I hunch over the table and write down exactly what I just said: that Harrison’s parents are your typical wealthy folks, and that every Wednesday he and his dad go for dinner together. I also write down that he has an older sister in college and a younger brother in freshman year, and I’m pretty sure he once mentioned a Chihuahua, but I clarify on the notepad that I don’t want to drag the Boyd family pet into this war. I also write that Harrison has football practice most days after school, loves his truck to death, and hangs around almost exclusively with Noah Diaz and Anthony Vincent. As I write, I realize that it hurts just thinking about Harrison right now.

  When I’m done, I sheepishly hand the notepad back over for Kai to study. He nods a couple times then rises to his feet. “We can add more to the list as and when we think of ideas. First things first, it’s time for action. Let’s go slash some tires.”

  There it goes again: that knot in my stomach, the feeling of guilt and dread. It’s all fun and games planning to mess with Harrison. But actually going ahead with it? I didn’t exactly imagine we would, and especially not tonight. Is this the kind of stuff Kai always does for kicks? I stand up from the table, but my balance feels off.

  “You got a car?” Kai asks, shoving the notepad into the pocket of his jeans and placing the pen back behind his ear.

  Oh, Lord, please, please, please don’t make me admit that I own the Green McRusty. “Don’t you?”

  “Nope,” he says, smiling. “Biked here, and unless you want to ride on my handlebars, then I’m relying on you to provide our battle vehicle.”

  “Fine,” I mutter, already feeling my cheeks heat with the incoming embarrassment. I turn for the door and say over my shoulder, “But please don’t judge.”

  “Nessie, didn’t I already tell you that Captain Washington doesn’t judge?” he says as he keeps up with my pace, teasingly nudging me with his elbow. I shoot him a sideways look, but I still don’t understand his playful expression. Where did this guy even come from, other than out of absolutely freakin’ nowhere? And he still hasn’t told me – why does he hate Harrison Boyd?

  Apprehensive, I point a finger and mutter, “It’s the green SUV over there.” Why the hell don’t I have my own car yet? I make a mental note to prioritize my hunt for a vehicle that isn’t a total embarrassment.

  I steal a glance at Kai, but he’s staring silently at the SUV as though he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m kidding. When I don’t say anything at all, he thoughtfully rubs his chin. “How do you expect us to lay low if our battle vehicle is a green SUV that rolled off the production line when Reagan was in the White House? I have a spare bike in my garage. You can use that.”

  I snort. I haven’t ridden a bike since I was, like, twelve and the thought of me whirling across Westerville on two wheels is laughable. “You want us to ride around on bikes?”

  “Yep. Why not? More discreet than a car, can dump them anywhere, and they make for a fast getaway because we can ignore all the traffic lights.” Kai walks off to grab the bike that’s propped up against the building. I didn’t notice it when I first arrived. He carries the bike over in one hand and looks at me expectantly. “Well? Unlock the Hulk and let’s get going.”

  “It’s actually called the Green McRusty,” I tell him, but instantly I wish I could shove all those words back in. Why did I even say that? Way to embarrass myself by openly admitting that I have a lame nickname for an even lamer car. “Get in.” I unlock the door and climb in behind the wheel while Kai shoves his bike into the back seat, muddy wheels and all, but I honestly don’t even care.

  “I think we’re going to make a great team,” Kai announces as he slides into the passenger seat next to me. Buckles up, gets comfortable.

  I study him out of the corner of my eye. “And why do you think that?”

  “Because you’re someone who has a nickname for their car, and in case you hadn’t noticed, I like nicknames. That tells me everything I need to know. You’re a fun person to be around.” Kai’s mouth twitches into a smile as he looks at me, and his voice is smooth and sweet, just like honey.

  An unfamiliar shyness creeps through me – mostly because when guys say that I’m fun, they mean that I’m fun in the bedroom, and not fun because I refer to my dad’s car as “The Green McRusty.” It’s such a tiny thing for Kai to point out, but it lets me know that perhaps he sees beyond my reputation. My thoughts on Kai were pretty touch-and-go until this second – I couldn’t decide if he was some obnoxious football player, or a troublemaker, or a straight-up weirdo. Now I’m thinking he’s actually not that bad.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” he says. “Parkland. Drive there.”

  I do as I’m directed and put the car in drive, peeling out of the library parking lot and onto our main street. Uptown Westerville isn’t an expansive area littered with endless stores. It doesn’t need to be. It’s the damn suburbs. Couple stores here and there, a few restaurants dotted along the way. Within minutes, we’re already crossing through residential neighborhoods toward Parkland. It’s not too far from my own house. In fact, I realize that it’s a ten-minute drive between Kai’s neighborhood and mine. It sometimes blows my mind that you hardly know any of the people who live around you, even in a small community like ours. How have I grown up in Westerville my entire life with Kai living ten minutes away and never having met him until now? Circumstances, that’s why. Circumstances determined that we wouldn’t meet until that party, and then circumstances brought us together again in our school office, and now here we are, creeping around town late at night in a crappy SUV together. I’m used to sneaking around late with guys, but not quite like this.

  “I hope you know how to ride a bike,” Kai says, eyeing me dub
iously. Do I seriously look like I can’t ride a bike? But before I can shoot him a snarky reply, he sits forward and points out the windshield. “That house up there. With the pumpkin mailbox.”

  I give him a weird look, but he isn’t kidding. It really is the house with a mailbox disguised as a pumpkin. The house with the skeletons in the yard. The ghosts hanging from the drainpipes. The clown sitting on the porch. I’m almost too scared to drive any closer, but reluctantly I pull up outside the freaky-ass house and cut the engine, unable to tear my eyes away from the decorations. “Wasn’t Halloween two weeks ago?”

  “We’re not here to talk about that,” Kai says gruffly, and gets out the car. He yanks his bike out from the backseat while I walk around to join him. Despite his words, he goes on to explain, “It’s for my little brother. He absolutely loves Halloween. So my parents keep the decorations up until Thanksgiving when we replace the pumpkin mailbox with a turkey mailbox. And I seriously wish I was kidding.”

  “They’re weird, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah.” He shakes his head, his expression dismayed. “I told them to at least get a clown that looked like Pennywise. And to put it on the lawn near the gutter.”

  “I meant younger siblings.”

  “Oh. Yeah, they’re weird too.” He guides his bike up the walkway toward the house and I follow. “You got one?”

  “A sister. Kennedy. I’m basically her parent.” I laugh when I say it, but I realize that it really hurts to admit it. I don’t want to be the parent. I’m seventeen. I’m still a kid.

  “Jackson’s only seven,” Kai says in response. “Big age gap. But that only makes me more protective. So, sure, the Halloween decorations make us the laughing stock of the neighborhood, but they also make Jackson smile every time he gets off the school bus.”

  We head through a gate into the back yard, and Kai dumps his bike on the grass. It’s dark and there’re no lights in the yard, so I squint after him as he disappears into the shed. There’s a lot of rummaging and clinking of metal, then Kai reappears, wheeling another bike across the grass toward me. “This is my dad’s bike,” he tells me, “so you can take mine, and I’ll take his. But listen. Pop a wheel? Scuff any of the paint? Get makeup on my handlebars? Then you’re dead to me.” He grins wide, revealing his teeth, his expression sweet.

  The back door to the house suddenly swings open, bathing the yard in light. “Kai, is that you?” a voice calls out. A woman stands at the door, hugging her dressing gown around her, squinting out into the cold. She’s slim, her blond hair pulled back into a scruffy ponytail. “What are you doing out here?”

  I try to keep my head down. I really shouldn’t be here in the first place. I’m a stranger, just some girl from school who literally only met Kai today. I don’t want his mom to get the wrong idea.

  “Grabbing the bikes,” Kai calls across the yard. I notice the way he angles his body to hide me, pretending I’m not there. “I’m heading back out, but I won’t be late. Don’t wait up for me.”

  “No later than midnight,” the woman says, her voice firm. She sighs – I can see her breath in the cold air. “And can’t you wear a helmet?”

  Kai cocks his head to one side and pats his curls. “Not unless I want to mess up this hair.”

  “Goodnight, Kai,” she says, ignoring him. Her eyes move to me. I expect her to give me a dirty look – who’s this girl sneaking around my back yard with my son? – but instead she gives me a small, friendly smile. “Actually, why don’t you come inside first? I want to meet your friend.” She disappears back into the house, leaving no room for argument, the door wide open behind her.

  “She really doesn’t make me seem cool, does she?” Kai scoffs. “Wear a helmet?”

  I laugh with him, but I can’t help but think about how I’d actually rejoice if Dad ever told me to wear a helmet.

  Kai rests his dad’s bike down on the grass next to his own and exhales, dragging his feet toward the house. I follow close behind him and, for a second, I deliberate over whether or not this is all worth it. I don’t need to meet Kai’s parents – I could shrug my shoulders, tell Kai I’m out, and walk away right now. But something keeps me moving forward, all the way across the yard and through the back door into Kai’s home.

  His mother has her head in the refrigerator, fetching us two cans of soda that she seems overly pleased to present us with. It feels weird meeting a guy’s mom.

  “So, Kai?” she urges, leaning back and folding her arms. Her smile is expectant as she gives me a pointed glance, patiently waiting for Kai to explain just exactly who I am. “Introduce us.”

  “This is Vanessa,” Kai mumbles as he kicks the back door closed. This is unbelievably awkward, mostly because Kai and I don’t know a single thing about one another besides our names. Hell, I doubt he even knows my last name. “Vanessa, this is my mom. Obviously.”

  His mother looks at me, her smile widening. “Yep, I’m the mom. Cindy. I assume you go to Westerville North?”

  I nod and rotate the cold can of soda around in my hands, my eyes flitting around the room, unable to look at her directly. The kitchen is warm and inviting, clean yet cluttered with precious knickknacks scattered here and there. Personal. “Yeah, I do. Go Warriors,” I pathetically joke. Kai plays for the rival team, the Westerville Central High Warhawks – or at least he did before he transferred, for reasons unknown, to Westerville North.

  “It’s nice that Kai’s made a friend already,” Cindy muses, and the look of death that Kai shoots her is hard to miss. It makes me bite back a smile because I can just feel his embarrassment. It’s kind of cute.

  Mom used to embarrass me all the time, but only because she cared and I thought that caring was lame. Like that one time I scraped my knee out on the sidewalk and Mom came running outside with a first-aid kit and a look of panic as though I’d broken a bone. I felt like a complete baby in front of my friends and I hated her for it. I didn’t appreciate back then that she was just overprotective because she loved me – and because she felt my pain as much as if it had been her own and then some.

  Now I would give anything for Mom to baby me in front of my friends again.

  “Yeah, and we have a class project that we need to work on together, so can we go?” Kai asks. It’s not really a lie. We do have a project that we’re working on together.

  “I didn’t know we were having a guest over,” a deep voice remarks. There’s a creak in the wooden floor as a man wheels himself into the kitchen. Kai’s father, I assume. He has the same curls and bold features. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw that’s lined with dark stubble. Bright brown eyes. He rests his hands in his lap and looks at me from his wheelchair. “Hello there.”

  “Neither did I. This is Vanessa, a friend of Kai’s,” Cindy tells him. She rests a hand on her husband’s shoulder and the two of them look at me. Suddenly, there’s too much pressure.

  “Hi,” I force out, not quite sure whether to offer my hand to shake. I do a feeble wave instead. I say the only thing I can think of. I tell them, “I like your Halloween decorations.” And I instantly want to melt into the floor.

  “Yeah, I like ’em too. When it’s actually Halloween,” Kai’s father deadpans, then rolls his eyes as Cindy swats at his shoulder.

  “We’re heading out,” Kai interrupts, bringing the subject back around to the fact that we want to leave. I don’t think he wants his parents to get to know me, because it’s not like we’re actually friends. After we deal with Harrison, we’ll probably never talk again, and his parents will wonder why I never came back around. “We just need to grab some textbooks from my room.”

  Kai gives me a look that makes it clear I need to follow him, so I squeeze past him on our way to the stairs and I make sure to give his parents a polite smile on my way. They seem caring, and they’re both still alive. Two things Kai should appreciate.

  “Car accident,” Kai says quietly over his shoulder as I follow him upstairs.

  “Huh?”

&nbs
p; “My dad,” he clarifies. “Truck slammed into him on the freeway a few winters ago. He’s paraplegic. There, now I saved you the awkwardness of having to ask. It also means he won’t notice that his bike is missing, ’cause it isn’t like he uses it these days.”

  “That’s rough,” I say. These facts are also a little personal, especially because I wasn’t going to ask anyway.

  “Yep, and between medical bills and Dad having to go freelance, we’re pretty much broke,” Kai says as we reach the landing. He stops and turns to face me, and his willingness to share such intimate information with a complete stranger makes me feel uncomfortable.

  “You don’t have to . . . You don’t need to tell me this.”

  “Well, actually I do, because you’re going to wonder why my room looks the way it does,” he says, then smiles slightly as he turns away again. He pushes open the first door on his left and I stare at him, confused and unsure what to expect.

  Because when someone warns you that they’re broke, you might expect their room to be bare, with essentials only. Not totally cluttered with hundreds of miscellaneous items spread over the floor and a small child on the bed.

  “Hey!” Kai says. “Stop playing in here, man. You can’t touch this stuff.”

  The boy – I assume his little brother, Jackson – is sitting cross-legged on the bed, a handful of action figures in his lap. He freezes at the sight of us, then tosses the action figures away and scrambles off the bed. His hair is a cute explosion of curls that gets in his eyes as he whizzes past us and disappears down the hall into another room.

  Kai groans in frustration, then shuts his door and carefully steps around the clutter on the floor. “That was Jackson, so now you’ve met the whole Washington crew,” he says. He grabs the action figures from his bed and reaches up to align them all back on a shelf mounted on the wall. I notice there’s an ancient Captain America figure, and I wonder if that’s where Kai’s inspiration for his code name came from.