“Maybe I could’ve, but in my defense, you didn’t really ask. You just told me to move,” I remind him. When his eyes narrow, I sigh. “Look, I’m sorry for being a pain in the ass, but I was just … I don’t know, a little nervous about it being my first day of school.”

“You have a strange way of showing you’re nervous,” he says, his gaze dissecting me.

“I know,” I agree. “I’m kind of a weird girl.”

“Hmm … I guess you should fit in well with us then,” he mutters then blows out an exhale. “I’m sorry for snapping at you in class.”

“Apology accepted.” I stick out my hand for a fist bump.

He briefly stares down at my hand then looks up at me. “Yeah, you’re definitely fucking weird.” He fist bumps me then lowers his hand. “Now, on to the important stuff.” He looks at Hunter. “How much did you tell her?”

“Not much,” Hunter replies, slipping off his hoodie. “I told her why I was there—that someone hired me to look into her uncle and find out why his past is such a mystery.”

Zay’s gaze shifts back to me. “How did you even know Hunter was out there?”

I shrug. “I was standing in front of my window and saw him.”

“Why were you standing in front of your window?” he questions, shoving up the sleeves of his shirt.

I give a half-shrug. “Because I was taking a hit.”

He rests his arms on the back of the seat. “So, you’re a pothead?”

“Nah. I don’t get high all the time,” I say, scratching my wrist. “Just when I’m stressed.” What I don’t say, though, is that I’m stressed out a lot which means I’m high a lot.

“And you were stressed out tonight?” he continues his interrogation on me.

I nod. “I got into trouble earlier and … Well, yeah, I was freaked out.” The wound on my side burns as the words slip past my tongue like burning little lies.

“What sort of trouble?” Hunter asks, turning all the way around in his seat so he can look at me.

I hesitate, unsure how much I want to divulge about my life.

“If you want us to tell you our secrets, you gotta tell us yours,” Zay informs me.

I glance from Hunter to him then sneak a glance at Jax, who’s watching me, waiting for me to explain.

Is it worth it? My secrets in exchange for theirs? Honestly, I really do want to find out more about why they’re spying on my uncle. And it’s not like I have to tell them everything, like about how my uncle cuts me.

“I may or may not have been stealing drugs from my uncle’s secret stash,” I offer the partial truth, then shrug like it’s no big deal at all. And that part really isn’t. It’s the rest of the parts, the parts marked on my flesh, that remain lodge in my throat, silently choking me.