Free Still Waters by Ash Parsons Page A

right?”
    “You idiot.” His eyes cut with his tone. “You work for dimes. I owe him an entire bank. Let me worry about how I’m going to get his money.”
    He sighed and leaned back. His curling lip shifted to a pressure-flat line. “Lonzo Cesare is a vicious, evil bastard. But he’s not more than that. I can beat him.”
    Moments ago he sounded like the name was demonic. Now he stroked his own ego to fight back. The football player needing the pep squad.
    “I’m smarter than him,” Michael said. “I can beat him.”
    “Good luck with that.”
    “I’ll still pay you. Nothing has changed. I just need you to hang out with me. Act like we’re friends. Come to the party tomorrow.”
    “What’s going to happen there?”
    An acid-edged laugh cut out of Michael’s chest. “It’s a party. You’ve heard of them, right?”
    He reached for the steering wheel, squeezed like it was a throat. “I don’t have to tell you jack, Ice. I didn’t have to tell you any of this. You either want the money, or not. So are you in or out?”
    Maybe even he didn’t know if he was bluffing or not.
    I didn’t answer. Imagined Lonzo Cesare, a violent but small-time gangster milking a high schooler for his daddy’s cash.
    I remembered giving the money to Janie last night. Her little claps and how she counted the pathetic roll of bills before hiding the can again.
    “Fine,” I said.

C HAPTER N INE
    O n the way back to school, Michael said he’d explain his face to the others by saying he and I had decided to ditch and go to a convenience store that would sell us beer. But when we got there, some kids I knew from Lincoln Green picked a fight. They’d jumped Michael while I was inside, but then I came out in hero mode, and kicked their asses.
    The secretary in the office heard a similar story, except we hadn’t decided to ditch, we were running late, and we weren’t after beer, but soda.
    She gave us tardy slips and told us to wait for the bell, which was only a few minutes away.
    “Why even show up? We should have ditched the whole day,” I mumbled.
    Michael gingerly sank into a seat by the plate glass. “And miss the chance to show off this shiner and brag about the fight? Never.”
    We waited. I stood next to him, trying to enjoy the jumpy eyes of office staff and student aides. Trying to ignore the appraising glances at both my clothes and Michael’s face.
    The bell finally rang, and we headed into the throng of students. Muffled exclamations greeted Michael’s face. He smiled and walked on like their gossip would be nothing but pure adoration.
    He turned at the courtyard door and stretched an arm out to me, making sure everyone saw as he flaunted my presence along with his face.
    We pushed through the double doors and walked into the prep throng. It wasn’t like the talking stopped completely, but it sure got quieter.
    “Holy . . .” T-Man walked over. “What happened, man?” His eyes took in Michael’s face.
    I stopped next to Michael and stared out at the rest of the group.
    Michael spun the story quickly and effortlessly. He shot a knowing grin at me, the only concession that his story wasn’t entirely true.
    T-Man and Dwight cursed and started talking about vengeance. Michael shook his head slightly, and they stopped. There was a lull as their eyes shifted from Michael’s face to my clothes. Next subject of conversation. So much gossip to get through before the bell.
    I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.
    Cyndra lifted a side of the zip-front hoodie, smiling expectantly. “Looking good, Ice.” A compliment to her taste in clothes more than my look.
    She tugged the shoulders of the hoodie off my back.
    I knocked her hands away.
    “Relax. It’s warm. You don’t need it.”
    I shook my head.
    Cyndra sighed and the corner of her mouth twisted. “What, you think I’m going to jump you or something? Get over yourself. I just want to see how the clothes fit.”
    People eyeing me, wanting