Savage Sinners (Elites of Macedon High 3)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tomas

Staying clean hasn’t been easy, my mouth watering every time I think about the sweet release of synthetic poison. It’s instinct at this point to crave that familiar dullness, the numbness that can accompany such a compact pill. Even my mother admits as I drive her to the airport that it feels strange to be sober—but it’s nice, too. Endearing.

“You look different,” she comments. “Your natural hair color is growing in.”

Disregarding her observation takes little effort, yet I peek at my reflection in the rear-view mirror, wondering if Alex has noticed yet. No black around the eyes. No drab appearance. No heavy circles marking my sleepless nights. While I’m not getting a lot of sleep, I’m getting more rest than I ever have in my life. And I can thank my lucky stars it’s because I’ve detoxed properly.

“The suit looks new, too,” she states. “Of course, it’s still in black.”

I roll my eyes back to the road, trying to hide my smile. “I have to retain some of my style.”

“It’s weird not seeing you in jeans.”

“It’s weird not seeing you high.”

A silent acknowledgment settles between us. This is brand new, even as we’re about to say our goodbyes. I don’t know how to feel about her sudden shift in energy. But then again, she probably has no idea how to handle mine either. Gone is the boy who wore torn pants and designer buckle shirts. Present is the crime lord willing to do what it takes for success.

The suit still resembles my previous rebellion, red pinstripes cutting through the raven black. Though I’ve had my hair trimmed, the dyed black remains, and I like the way I stroke it back from my forehead, revealing my clear skin and bright hazel-brown eyes. If Alex has seen me lately, she hasn’t commented on the change like my mother.

“We’re nearly there,” I comment when I see the exit for the airport. “Do you have everything?”

“Probably should have asked me that before we left.”

I sigh. “I did.”

“Oh…right.” Out of my peripheral vision, I notice her scratch her head. “I guess I forgot.”

“It happens. You’ll get your wits about you soon enough.”

She shudders. “Have I forgotten anything else? Any birthdays?”

“Mom, I’m surprised you remember my own fucking name.”

She barks with laughter, shaking her head while turning to look out the window. “Lucky I remember Adelaide, too, I guess.”

“Lucky you remember anything at all. So what if you forgot a few items?”

“Did I?”

My lips widen into a smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe you didn’t. Who cares? You’re going to the Midwest. You can get just about anything there.”

“You sure you don’t want to come along? Even for a little while?”

I pull into the airport and park in one of the parallel spaces, resting my hand on the gear shift. “No, I have business here.”

“What about Adelaide?”

“Adelaide wants to stay here, too.”

Silence passes between us. She takes a breath to speak, pauses, and then opens the passenger door, inspiring the dashboard to ding rhythmically. “You know,” she says while turning to me, “the city hasn’t been what I hoped. I figured it would be the same for you and your sister.”

“I suppose we’re different.”

“I suppose you are.”

More silence. It’s nearly a given at this point, seeing as my mother and I have never spoken in such a capacity. The fact that we’re even having a conversation is a miracle, truly a divine intervention that comes about just a little too late. Everything is late with her.