“We threw the game,” Kannon says.
I twist my head toward him. “Repeat that.”
“We threw the game.” He looks down at his hands. “The whole team did. Well, other than you and Camilo. Gus didn’t even think to approach you. We figured we looked so good, we could handle losing one game. Gus paid us five hundred bucks each. You know how it is, bro. Turning down money is not in the cards for most of us. Whether it’s for gear, shoes, or to help our folks with the rent…or, hell, you know? Just to eat at Lenny’s and live. Even those of us who didn’t need the money didn’t wanna ruin it for those who did.”
“You sold the game?” I can feel the tics in my eyelids. Never a good fucking sign.
He groans, throwing his head against his headrest. “We took State, man, and not thanks to you, so don’t give me this shit.”
Wordlessly, I step out of the vehicle and round it, opening Kannon’s door and throwing him out on the ground. I’m now oblivious to the growing crowd streaming into the snake pit. The only thing I can see is his face when he realizes he shouldn’t have confided in me.
I straighten him up against the car and squat down to his eye level.
“You try to throw any other games this season?” I park my elbows on my knees, squinting.
He shakes his head. “But I know Gus bought pretty much all of ASH’s games.”
“With what money?”
“The betting ring. He makes money there, then uses it to pay off players from other teams.”
“That’s thousands of dollars.”
“Vaughn loves to fight, and people love to think others have a fucking chance against him.” Kannon shrugs.
“What happened tonight, then?”
Kannon shakes his head. “He came to Josh the other night—Josh is the one who’s been listening to him since he has nothing to lose, and all. Gus tried to up his price. A thousand per head. And…until yesterday, people were going to do it. I wasn’t going to anymore, bro, I swear, but I couldn’t snitch on the others. Hell, people need this money for medicine for their parents and diapers for their baby siblings, and I’m no snitch.”
“What changed?”
“When they did what they did to Camilo…when he didn’t want to take part in this…I guess that’s when we officially lost our shit and decided enough was enough. It just didn’t sit right with us anymore. Him screwing around with your twin and trying to ruin your team.”
Anger bubbles in my blood, and I grab the collar of his shirt and raise my fist, about to put a hole in his face, when he looks me in the eye, dead calm, and says, “You have bigger fish to fry than me, brother.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look behind you.”
I twist my head and see the pink Jeep my sister has been using, parked across from where we are. I watch Via pouring out of it, hand in hand with none other than Daria herself. My fist drops as I gravitate toward them, my legs carrying me there without even meaning to, mesmerized.
“…I’m so glad we had a chance to start fresh. The entire cheer team would like to apologize. I know you’re moving away, but we wanted to straighten things out before you do. You know, not to leave things awkward,” Via explains to Daria, who looks like a ghost. About five pounds lighter than when the school year started, her eyes dead. She is still gorgeous, put together, and looks like a model, but her heart’s not in it anymore. Into flaunting her beauty like she earned it, somehow. I recognize Via’s lilt of fakeness. It’s the one she often used when she was still her old self.
I race across the parking lot, determined to protect Daria from whatever my sister has in store for her.
Praying I’m not too late.
The minute I step into the snake pit, I chuckle at my own stupid mistake.
This is not a last-ditch effort to try to make me stay. It’s not even a peace offering. I came here because Via begged me to stop the fight between Gus and Penn.
“Penn’s future is on the line. If you truly love him like you say you do, you’ll come and tell him not to fight Gus.”
It’s a trap. I should have known the minute Via knocked on my bedroom door. She seemed too hysterical. Too nervous. But her reasons for seeking a ceasefire were too logical to overlook. Teary-eyed, she explained that she was tired of the hateful looks her brother gave her. I truly thought she wanted to cover her ass and get my blessing before I move away.
I forgot one important thing—Via cares more about ruining me than saving herself.
It’s entrenched in her DNA and has been for years now. She already knows what it feels like to lose everything because it happened to her when she was fourteen. Because of me. She’ll never be the prima ballerina she could have been. She knows that, too. Too much time without proper training has passed. My mother can hole her up in the ballet studio fifteen hours a day, but youth shapes art, and she’s been artless for so long, her craft has wilted.