“What can I do?” he asked, still with the anxious hovering.
“Nothing. I’m fine. It’s okay. I...” When I looked up, the words stalled on my tongue. Then they dissolved in shock as I realized I knew him. “You’re...” Well, maybe I didn’t know him, know him. But I definitely knew what he was. He was, “...a Parker.”
I wasn’t sure which Parker exactly. I’d seen him in school; he was a year ahead of me. But I didn’t know his first name. It had to be strange, though. They all had funky first names. Speed. Cobra. Mercedes. And there were a ton of them. Six or seven, or something like that. Their father had lined them up on our driveway and listed them off, right before yanking forward the only girl and claiming my brother Garrett had gotten her pregnant.
That had been months ago, back in the spring. After a brief, private conference with Bruce Parker—the Parkers’ dad—my father had dismissed them out of hand and sent the lot of them away, complaining throughout dinner that evening about how the dirty trash Parker family had upset his entire afternoon by daring to set their pathetic, second-hand-store shoes on his property.
The entire scene had caused a stir for weeks, really. Father grumbled about how he’d like to take the Parkers’ land from them and send them away permanently. Mother had fretted over possible rumors circulating of any of her sons having had any kind of dealings with a Parker. Max incessantly teased Garrett about his impending fatherhood. And an indignant Garrett disclaimed all accusations. But I hadn’t seen or heard from anyone in the Parker family since then.
Until now.
As my eyes grew big with shock, his narrowed in recognition.
“Bainbridge,” he hissed.
And just like that, we were enemies.
I recoiled while he shook his head, almost as if he were trying to deny our chance encounter. “What’re you doing out here?” he demanded.
“Excuse me?” I spit back indignantly. “This is my family ground; what’re you doing here?”
“I...” His eyes widened, filling with a jittery anxiety. Then he glanced around the trees as if seeking the most available form of escape. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.
Before he could explain himself, another voice boomed through the forest.
“Hey, Max!” Garrett’s shout made me and the Parker boy jump simultaneously as it came from not too far away. “You see him yet?”
“No. Nothing,” Max answered from the other side of us, the rustling of tree limbs revealing he was closer to us than Garrett was.
“Well, if you do, hold him for me. I’m going to beat the ever-loving shit out of the dead prick.”
I swerved my gaze from the direction of one brother’s voice toward the other’s, seeing neither of them through all the trees. When I returned my attention to the Parker boy frozen in front of me, his face had drained of color only to fill with fear and guilt.
I gasped, suddenly understanding. “What did you do?” I hissed, realizing he was the very dead prick my brothers were pursuing.
Shaking his head, he lifted his index finger and pressed it against his mouth, begging me to keep silent.
Like hell.
He was a Parker. The enemy. Not to mention he’d just tackled me to the ground and maimed me. I sucked in a lungful to scream for Max, but the Parker boy leapt at me and slapped his hand over my mouth.
“No,” he whispered harshly. “Please.”
I shrieked into his fingers and tried to pull away, but he lassoed my waist with his arm and banded me against him.
I bit his hand, stomped on his foot and thrashed my head until my goose egg gave a violent pulse of pain and made me dizzy enough to gray my vision. Worried I was going to faint, I sank my teeth harder into the meat of his palm with renewed purpose.
“Mother of God,” he gasped but held on to me even tighter. “Fuck. That hurts.”
The salty tang of his flesh filled my mouth, startling me with how boy he tasted; it made me let up on my teeth hold, but I kept struggling in every other capacity.
“Stop. Please stop,” he said in my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I mean, any more than I already accidentally have. I just don’t want them to kill me. Please don’t help them kill me.”
Stopping would mean surrender, and I could never surrender to a Parker. They’d accused a member of my family of the most degrading crime. He was the enemy, and no Bainbridge surrendered to the enemy.
I tried to scream again, so he swung me around, pinning me to a tree. The impact left my brain rattled. I let out a squeak of protest, and he must’ve known he’d expended too much force because he immediately let up half of his energy.
