Dark Heart (Dark Heart 1)

I can feel him being miserable, hating himself and hating us because of it. One night when I’m lying awake, thinking of the feeling of her arms around me, I realize that’s how this goes with people like my dad. It’s sort of like he’s falling from the hundredth floor of a building, and he’s flailing with his arms grasping the air and legs all kicking, and he’s fucked. He knows he’s fucked, but he’ll grab at anything to slow that fall. He needs something to hold him. Most of all, I think he needs someone to blame, and so we give that to him. Doesn’t matter if we want to. He’s not asking. When it comes to me, especially, he’s gotten good at twisting me into the enemy he needs.

Christmas Eve is ruined when he comes home drunk after midnight mass, sits down to dinner Soren and I made for Mom, and spoons some of our seafood risotto into his mouth. He spits it out and stands so fast he nearly upends our small table.

“Cold,” he bellows. “Couldn’t even keep the food warm for your father!” He shoves the table before stomping off to his room.

That sends Soren to his own room, where he’s locked himself inside. I can hear him screaming into the pillow. Mom, who was in the bathroom when it happened, helps me coax him out. Normally on Christmas Eve, we watch a movie, but no one trusts Dad not to make trouble, so we finish our dinner and retreat to our own rooms.

I’m nearly asleep—hugging a pillow, thinking of Elise in a way I only let myself when I’m half conscious—when someone knocks on my window.

What the fuck?

It’s Leo.

For a second, I have sort of a flashback to when he used to live in the apartment next door—before his parents divorced and he and his mom moved in with his grandma over on Mill Street. With Alesso on the next block, we used to roam the neighborhood and call ourselves the Three Ninjas.

I frown at him through the window now. I shove it up a few inches. “What the—”

“Get out here.”

Leo’s got one blue eye and one brown one. Right now, they’re both fucking huge. I hold up one finger, shut the window, scrawl a quick note for my mom in case she comes into my room, pull on my coat, and then swing out the window. My sneaks crunch dirt in the narrow alley. Maybe ice, too.

“Fucking shit, Luca. Alesso’s with Tony, and he called my house from Tony’s mobile. They were doing something with some truck—unloading some shit over by the pier—and Tony ran his fucking duckbill, I don’t even know—” Leo waves his arms around as he walks toward the alley’s mouth— “He got his ass kicked. Alesso stepped in. He’s got a bad cut on his head that he said’s bleeding everywhere, and he and Tony ran off to some alley. They’re pretty fucked up, but Tony’s talking about going to kill those guys.”

Leo hangs a right onto the sidewalk that runs in front of the apartment complex. He starts walking faster. Then he’s jogging, and I’m jogging with him.

“Hotwired zio’s Cutlass so we can go to the pier faster. Clacking all around when I drive because he’s got catering shit in the back.” He waves at the red car that’s parked like shit along the curb.

“Ah, shit. Luigi—” Alesso’s uncle— “will fucking kill us if he finds out.”

He shakes his head as he unlocks the door. “Fucking Tony. Alesso’s been doing shit like almost every night.”

We drive to the pier with Queen singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” from the dashboard speakers. Makes sense, because Luigi sings in a Queen cover band sometimes on weekends. When we get near the pier, there’s a cop car with its lights on but no sirens.

Turns out Tony busted some dude’s face up and then he and Alesso bounced. Leo can’t find anywhere to turn around, and has to do a ten-point turn right near the cop, who pulls him over and writes him a ticket for driving without an ID.

I get home at two-thirty, after going with Leo to see Alesso. Aless needs stitches near his temple, but he won’t go for them, so Leo and I tape his shit up with some Band-Aids. Alesso looks like ass. He’s grown inches since I last saw him, but he looks skinny and scared, more like a kid than someone who turns eighteen in a few weeks.

I give him one of those back clap kind of hugs and feel damn sorry when we have to leave. Leo thanks me, like I need to be told thank you. I tell him to fuck himself, and he laughs, and it feels more normal—more like we were before I started going to Manhattan Magnet. We promise to get together soon, and I’m back up through the alley window with no further drama.