first ring.
“Hey,”
she said, as if Aaron calling her was totally normal.
“Amber,
could you promise me something?”
She
was silent while Aaron continued to fiddle with his car door in his driveway,
trying to get it to latch.
“Probably
not,” she said finally.
“Promise
me you won’t go out with Clive tonight.”
“Let
me guess, you’d rather I go out with you? ” she said.
“Sure,
whatever. I’ll take to a movie or something.”
“I
didn’t say I would go out with you.”
“Look—”
Aaron held the phone against his ear with his shoulder, “you might end up in a
situation tonight where you could get hurt.”
“Then
protect me,” she said.
“Amber,
just promise me.”
“No.”
And she hung up.
***
Calling
her was a mistake, Aaron decided that night, as he scanned the swaying mass of halves
grinding against each other inside the Pelican nightclub, their sweat
glittering under green lasers and disco balls, because even if Amber hadn’t
been planning on it, now she would probably come here just to spite him.
But
what worried him even more was the way he’d risen to Clive’s taunts after
school—how protective he’d felt toward her—when the odds seemed
increasingly slim that they were halves. In fact, he wasn’t sure he even wanted
Amber as his half; she’d be a nightmare.
Yet
here he was at the Pelican because she meant more to him than he cared to
admit, and if Clive date raped her in a filthy nightclub eight days before her
birthday, if he scarredher like that, the loss she and her half would
suffer for the rest of their lives was unthinkable. Aaron couldn’t let that
happen.
He
spotted Dominic dancing with Tina Marcello against the far glass walls. Clive
would be near them. “Over there,” said Aaron.
Next
to him, Buff pulled on his red and white rugby hoodie.
“Seriously?”
said Aaron.
“I
didn’t come here to dance, Buddy. Breezie needs to know what hit him.”
“Whatever.
Just hold him off while I take care of Selavio.” Aaron straightened his leather
jacket and plunged into the crowd. He focused on the rainbows cascading down
Dominic’s back to stay oriented as he squeezed around pairs of bodies. In the
sweaty fog, someone knocked him in the jaw—and he froze.
He
had walked right into Clive, and the guy still hadn’t noticed him. It was too
perfect.
Aaron
reached for his shoulder, his heart thumping, and yelled, “Surprise!”
But
right then a gap opened and he saw exactly what he dreaded most. She was
rubbing up against Clive’s torso in a club dress with tiger stripes, lips
shining with lip gloss, her arms draped seductively around his neck like they
were already halves—Amber Lilian.
Clive
whipped around to face him.
***
Aaron
had three inches on Clive. It should have been an easy fight. A few punches. He
could have broken Clive’s nose, knocked him out cold.
Instead
he just stood there, stunned by the sight of Amber, as Clive attacked.
Aaron
had been struck off guard before, knocked to the ground even. He had taken
blows from other seventeen-year-olds, kicks, punches in his jaw. They didn’t
faze him.
This
was different.
The
strobe light split Clive’s movement into frames. His fist burned in the white
flash, a blur, before it smashed into Aaron’s jaw.
Pain
rattled his teeth. Aaron toppled backward, dizzy, and hit the floor. Clive
knelt over him and coiled his arm back again, ready to strike with his full
weight. Aaron rolled, crawled through someone’s legs and jumped up. His ears
still rang from the blow.
People
scattered, shouted. Aaron tackled Clive in the stomach, pinned his neck. Clive
squirmed out of his grip, a sour musk rising from his armpits.
Somebody’s
hands closed on Aaron’s shoulders, dragged him backward.
“She’s
not your half!” Aaron yelled, but it was pointless. More bodies crowded around
him, grabbed and shoved him, their ugly faces hardly human. He flung off their
hands, only to suffocate in their hungry
“Hey,”
she said, as if Aaron calling her was totally normal.
“Amber,
could you promise me something?”
She
was silent while Aaron continued to fiddle with his car door in his driveway,
trying to get it to latch.
“Probably
not,” she said finally.
“Promise
me you won’t go out with Clive tonight.”
“Let
me guess, you’d rather I go out with you? ” she said.
“Sure,
whatever. I’ll take to a movie or something.”
“I
didn’t say I would go out with you.”
“Look—”
Aaron held the phone against his ear with his shoulder, “you might end up in a
situation tonight where you could get hurt.”
“Then
protect me,” she said.
“Amber,
just promise me.”
“No.”
And she hung up.
***
Calling
her was a mistake, Aaron decided that night, as he scanned the swaying mass of halves
grinding against each other inside the Pelican nightclub, their sweat
glittering under green lasers and disco balls, because even if Amber hadn’t
been planning on it, now she would probably come here just to spite him.
But
what worried him even more was the way he’d risen to Clive’s taunts after
school—how protective he’d felt toward her—when the odds seemed
increasingly slim that they were halves. In fact, he wasn’t sure he even wanted
Amber as his half; she’d be a nightmare.
Yet
here he was at the Pelican because she meant more to him than he cared to
admit, and if Clive date raped her in a filthy nightclub eight days before her
birthday, if he scarredher like that, the loss she and her half would
suffer for the rest of their lives was unthinkable. Aaron couldn’t let that
happen.
He
spotted Dominic dancing with Tina Marcello against the far glass walls. Clive
would be near them. “Over there,” said Aaron.
Next
to him, Buff pulled on his red and white rugby hoodie.
“Seriously?”
said Aaron.
“I
didn’t come here to dance, Buddy. Breezie needs to know what hit him.”
“Whatever.
Just hold him off while I take care of Selavio.” Aaron straightened his leather
jacket and plunged into the crowd. He focused on the rainbows cascading down
Dominic’s back to stay oriented as he squeezed around pairs of bodies. In the
sweaty fog, someone knocked him in the jaw—and he froze.
He
had walked right into Clive, and the guy still hadn’t noticed him. It was too
perfect.
Aaron
reached for his shoulder, his heart thumping, and yelled, “Surprise!”
But
right then a gap opened and he saw exactly what he dreaded most. She was
rubbing up against Clive’s torso in a club dress with tiger stripes, lips
shining with lip gloss, her arms draped seductively around his neck like they
were already halves—Amber Lilian.
Clive
whipped around to face him.
***
Aaron
had three inches on Clive. It should have been an easy fight. A few punches. He
could have broken Clive’s nose, knocked him out cold.
Instead
he just stood there, stunned by the sight of Amber, as Clive attacked.
Aaron
had been struck off guard before, knocked to the ground even. He had taken
blows from other seventeen-year-olds, kicks, punches in his jaw. They didn’t
faze him.
This
was different.
The
strobe light split Clive’s movement into frames. His fist burned in the white
flash, a blur, before it smashed into Aaron’s jaw.
Pain
rattled his teeth. Aaron toppled backward, dizzy, and hit the floor. Clive
knelt over him and coiled his arm back again, ready to strike with his full
weight. Aaron rolled, crawled through someone’s legs and jumped up. His ears
still rang from the blow.
People
scattered, shouted. Aaron tackled Clive in the stomach, pinned his neck. Clive
squirmed out of his grip, a sour musk rising from his armpits.
Somebody’s
hands closed on Aaron’s shoulders, dragged him backward.
“She’s
not your half!” Aaron yelled, but it was pointless. More bodies crowded around
him, grabbed and shoved him, their ugly faces hardly human. He flung off their
hands, only to suffocate in their hungry
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