Free A Murder of Magpies by Sarah Bromley

doors shut.
    The foulness lingered, the way over-ripened tomatoes still clung to their vines, pretty
     and glistening far away, stinking with rot up close.
    “Vayda, hey!”
    Marty Pifkin jogged toward me. He wore a dark blue, V-neck sweater embroidered with
     the St. Anthony’s shield. I clutched Ward’s hand harder, brought him closer so the
     length of my arm ran down the front of his body. I wanted silence.
    Marty’s eyes flicked from my face to Ward’s then low to our joined hands. He motioned
     across the hall to his friend, Danny Milagro. As he waited for Danny, he made no secret
     of sizing up Ward’s combat boots and loosened necktie, but then he smiled at me. “I
     wanted to thank you for your help with the physics homework. Too bad Jonah didn’t
     get what was going on.”
    My body went rigid. Ward seemed to notice, stayed close, and rested his hand on the
     small of my back. He was observing, letting me handle Marty. This was something Jonah
     would never allow.
    “Marty, that was a while ago,” I said. “Apologize to Jonah, not me.”
    He shifted from one foot to the other, arms crossed over his wide chest. The different
     athletics’ coaches had courted him as they had Jonah, but the only sport Marty was
     involved in was wrestling. More trouble with my brother could hurt his place on the
     team, if Monsignor actually followed the rules in the school handbook, and the mention
     of my brother’s name made Marty’s nose wrinkle.
    “I’d rather be talking to you, Vayda.”
    “Marty, don’t,” I warned.
    “Are you guys a thing? Really? That guy?” He backed off a step and addressed Ward. “Danny says you’re the new go-to guy
     to get anything harder than a nickel or dime.”
    Puzzled for a moment, Ward’s jaw then set and his nostrils flared. I sensed his pulse
     accelerate. “Get out of my face, man.”
    “Relax.”
    “I said go away. Get your fix somewhere else. I’m not the guy to get it from.”
    Marty scratched at his spiky, brown hair and chuckled. “No, but I see you’re the one
     Vayda’s finally getting it from, eh?”
    A dam of pent-up anger cracked. I let go of Ward’s hand to grip Marty’s sweater, pulling
     him down close enough to slap his cheek with a loud smack. His head whipped to the
     side. The din of my classmates’ chatter hushed. Everyone stared, all too eager to
     see what would happen next, and when Marty shook off the hit, his hazel eyes darted
     along the walls at the crowd before settling back on me.
    “Go away, Marty,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even.
    He rubbed the reddening welt left by my palm. “I warn you, Vayda—”
    “I wouldn’t finish that threat.”
    Jonah glowered behind Marty. A smoky haze of rage radiated from him, so concentrated
     his energy burned. By then, the noise drew more spectators. I looked back for any
     nuns to break up the crowd, but there weren’t any.
    Danny circled Jonah, but Marty stayed him with his hand. “We’re out of here.”
    Jonah’s teeth bared, his fists clenched as Marty pushed past him and jabbed him hard
     in the ribs. A flare from my brother’s temper was another blast of hot air. The heel
     of his palm popped the back of Marty’s head. “Speak to my sister again, and I’ll tear
     you in half.”
    Marty scoffed. “Bet she likes it when you talk rough. Maybe that’s why you Silvers
     don’t let anyone else in, ’cause you’re riding each other.”
    “That’s it!” Jonah swung around. Shouting in Romani, he cussed out Marty and thrust
     his fist into Marty’s gut. Marty staggered back and crashed into the lockers with
     an echoing bang.
    “Jonah, come on!” I grabbed my brother’s arm, trying to pull him away. The dizziness
     from before still hadn’t worn off, and the frenzied rush of the other students’ excitement
     mixed with my panic until the walls and floor tilted. I needed rest and quiet and
     calm, but there was only noise in my head, static in my hands, everything in