Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

“Say something,” Vaughn ordered, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “To me, Luna.”

I opened my mouth. I didn’t think I could do it, but a part of me desperately wanted to. I didn’t want Knight to feel special. Like he had a hold on me. A power too great to be shared with others. I felt my throat clogging up with my words, but pushed through anyway.

Do it. Do it. You can do it.

I tried, but I couldn’t.

Opened my mouth. Closed it.

Then opened it again. After a few seconds, I closed my eyes and shook my head. I couldn’t do it.

“Well, then. You keep saying you aren’t mine, but all evidence points to the contrary.” Knight’s smirk implied he was slightly unhinged as he stared at me.

He was most likely drunk again. He was so good at disguising it at this point.

“As for you, Moonshine, I think it’s time the tables turned. Unrequited love is a bitch. Time to taste your own medicine.”

Then, Knight turned back to Vaughn and launched at him with so much force, I thought Vaughn’s spine would snap like a twig. Knight grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall, then tried to punch him in the face, but Vaughn was quicker. He elbowed Knight’s collarbone, knocking him down on his butt. The door flung open and Poppy, Daria, Lenora, Penn, and Hunter rushed in. It was a tiny room to begin with, so Hunter and Penn didn’t have any trouble breaking up the fight by simply stepping between the two guys. Hunter pushed Vaughn, who didn’t need much restraint because he was in full control, toward the door. Penn—who was a big football player—secured Knight’s hands behind his back.

“You’re a dead man walking,” Knight spat at Vaughn.

Knight was red, his eyes glassy with anger. Vaughn sneered, once again looking bored out of his mind. Lenny and Daria pushed a crying Poppy out the door.

I realized it probably looked horrible from where she was standing. She didn’t deserve to feel like the other woman. Things had gotten out of control. I squeezed Vaughn’s arm.

“I’m off.”

Rushing past the stairway, I saw Poppy sitting on the bottom stair, Lenny and Daria stroking her hair and comforting her.

“I love him!” Poppy cried.

My heart nearly spilled out of my chest, I hurt so much for her.

“I know, darling. But I wouldn’t date a guy who’s so hung up on someone else,” Lenny admitted softly.

They all looked up at me when they heard my footsteps. I ducked my head.

“Saint Luna, what happened?” Daria asked.

She no longer looked smug and thoroughly entertained. I didn’t answer.

I slipped back to my house, as I always did.

Running from conflict.

From the truth.

From my voice.

From my silence.

“Nice shiner. Goes well with your shirt.” Dad shifted his gaze from my black-purple eye to my indigo dress shirt.

He didn’t ask how I got it. He knew he wouldn’t get an answer. Months ago, I’d run in a circle that attended a betting ring/fight club called The Snake Pit. I sometimes used to fight there, especially to cover for Vaughn when the little asshole would disappear without notice—not often, but often enough that black eyes were the norm. Besides, it was pretty fucking obvious—with Luna making an early exit, and Poppy clinging to the lapels of my blazer all night—that there were hormones and pussy involved.

Things with Dad had been different recently, though. He was snappier and less attentive. Couldn’t blame him. He was busy trying to find a cure for Mom’s illness. It just felt fake to let shit surface now. We were in a different place. We used to share di ganja in the backyard. Now, we were lucky to exchange two sentences without biting each other’s heads off.

The party would have been a good time to break things off with Poppy, but I was so mad at Luna and Vaughn, I couldn’t think straight. Winter break had just started, and if they were going to be making out all over town, they sure as hell were going to get a nice view of my junk grinding all over Poppy.

I knew I was being an ass. Poppy was a cool chick. Just not cool enough for me to curb my asshole ways, apparently. Anyway, she knew what was up, yet she still pursued me. The writing had been on the fucking wall since freshman year, when I’d followed Luna everywhere.

Poppy wasn’t illiterate.

Even so, I’d literally spelled it out for her.

“I’m off.” I threw a baseball cap on my head.

I didn’t feel like sticking around hearing my mom have a coughing fit. She’d been getting worse and worse lately, and sometimes—okay, oftentimes—I just wanted to run away from the sound of her body failing her. Failing all of us.

I wore black sweatpants and a rain jacket and jogged through the woods of El Dorado, heading to the treehouse, the treehouse I hadn’t visited in four years—but hey, who was counting?