He has a way of seeing things no one else can. Picks up on the most minute movement. The slightly longer intake of air. A twitch of a finger, of an eye. The angle of a foot toward a door. He knows all. Sees all. And there’s no doubt he’s aware something is horribly wrong.

Chevy won’t say anything now. Probably won’t say anything the next time we’re alone either. He’ll wait because he’s patient like that. He’ll wait for the unassuming time, when my defenses are lowered, when he’ll be able to slip past my skin and into the truth.

“You know what you two need?” Nina says, ripping me out of my thoughts. “To do something normal. Be actual teenagers.”

Yeah. Sounds great. Sounds easy. Sounds impossible.

“Hey, Violet?”

My head snaps up at the sound of my brother’s voice. He stands at our table with his hands shoved in his pockets and his cheeks are red. My eyebrows draw together as I try to understand why he’s so upset. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs while shaking his head and shuffling his feet. “Nothing.”

No, it’s something. Very much something. My eyes dart to the table where Pigpen, Man O’ War and Dust sit, because if they did something to make him sad, I’m going to make each of them bleed. “Do you need to talk to me alone?”

Chevy goes to slide out of the booth as Eli and Nina glance at each other in worry, but before anyone else can join the conversation, Brandon reaches into his back pocket, pulls something out, then deposits a mound of bracelets on the table.

My heart beats hard twice. Bracelets. My bracelets. The bracelets Fiend stole from me. “Where did you get these?”

Brandon stares at the floor and rubs his nose. “On the side of the road. I saw that guy throw them out of the car...after...after he hit you...and...” His voice breaks and my heart breaks and I’m pushing Nina out of the way because I need to get to my brother.

“...and I called Eli like you said...and I’m afraid it’s my fault you were taken...and you love your bracelets...so I picked them up...” He chokes on the words and his eyes are filling with tears and my vision becomes blurry as my mouth turns down. “...but I didn’t find Dad’s watch or cross and I know they mean more to you, so I was scared to give these back, but then Pigpen saw them and told me...”

I don’t care what Pigpen told him. I throw myself into my brother and hold him tight. Brandon slowly wraps his arms around me, places his head on my shoulder and cries. Shoulders shaking, leaning down into me from his tall height, and I squeeze my eyes shut to push back my own tears as I try to comfort my brother.

A touch on my arm, and when I look over, Chevy’s standing beside me. One hand on me. His other hand on Brandon’s back. His eyes a storm full of pain and sorrow, as well. We stare at each other and the same question burns out of his eyes as the one that’s circling my brain—will we ever be okay again?

CHEVY

VIOLET LIVES IN a brick two-story Cape Cod. Wouldn’t know the official name of it if Violet’s mom hadn’t made a big deal about it when they moved into the place when we were eight. Oz, Razor and I were in charge of lugging all of Violet’s boxes into her room upstairs. Violet was in charge of ordering us around.

The guys of the club helped unpack the truck and they unloaded and repieced together furniture. It was a fun day, a great day, and it was the first time we were able to walk the woods straight from Violet’s house to Cyrus’s and back. It was a big hike, epic at age eight, but it was my first huge adventure and I loved sharing it with my best friends.

Typically, I’d ride my Harley to school, but I’m giving a ride not only to Violet, but Stone, so I’m driving Eli’s truck. Plus Violet shouldn’t be riding until her knee is healed.

Violet’s mom drove them home this morning and Dust tailed them so Violet could get ready for school at home. Violet explained how her mother had forgotten some “personal” female items, and after an awkward moment where the men in the room wanted to kill themselves, Violet and Eli agreed that going home in the morning was okay.

No one, including me, wanted to ask what the personal items were.

I pull up to the house in Eli’s truck and Violet and Stone walk outside.

Captivated. That’s what Violet does to me whenever I see her. Her red hair is pulled into a bun that looks too good to be thrown together, but messy enough that wisps of her hair fall around her face. It’s perfect and makes me want to lie in bed with her all over again.

She wears jeans with rips above the knee and a blue shirt that has a hippie look to it. Like always, as if she never missed a beat, her bracelets dangle from her wrists.

Fiend had stolen her bracelets from her when they shoved her into the back of the car and Stone had picked up each and every one as he called Eli. By himself. In the dark. Only a few of us understand how much courage it took that boy.

Violet squishes her lips to the side as she ambles down the stairs of the porch. Stone reaches the truck first, opens the passenger-side door, and Violet pulls herself up. Irritation leaks through me. Stupid. I should have gotten out and helped her in. Too late now, but it won’t happen again.

“Hey, Chevy!” Stone smiles at me, and I smile back. He’s a good kid who kept his head in a scary situation.

“What’s doing, Stone?”

“Nothing much.”

I’m a football player and a McKinley, so I take up enough room in the cab of the truck. While Stone is thin, the kid has legs like an overgrown spider and he can’t seem to find a place to put himself, so he’s spread out, too. Violet’s got the raw end of being jammed between us, but she takes it in stride.