You fought for money. Some of the girls in your circle knew, others pretended not to notice. Either way, no one pushed. When they caught sight of bruises blooming along your jaw or the split in your lip, their questions were half-hearted, and your answers were always the same “nothing,” or “I’m fine.” Eventually, they stopped asking.
It wasn’t any different from what the rest of them did. Nat dealt. Lottie sold alcohol and cigarettes. Shauna made cash doing other students’ homework. Van moved pills when she could. Everyone had their way of getting by, and no one judged too hard because they were all in it together.
Most of it happened during school quick exchanges in the halls, deals made during lunch, quiet handoffs in the parking lot after the final bell. But the real money came from parties. Crowds, noise, distraction perfect conditions.
Like tonight.
Jackie had thrown something together out by the lake, deep enough in the woods that no one would bother them. Music thumped through the trees, lights strung between branches, people packed tight with red cups in their hands. Business was already booming. Lottie had sold most of what people were drinking. Shauna had been paid off for the day’s work. Nat disappeared and reappeared like a ghost, always with cash in her pocket.
And you?
You were in the center of a circle, fists up, facing one of the jocks.
People shouted, pushing closer, the ring tightening as bets were thrown around. Bills waved in the air, voices rising with every hit landed. The energy fed the fight raw, loud, relentless.
Somewhere in the crowd, the girls forced their way through to watch.
Lottie stepped forward just enough to see clearly, lifting a hundred-dollar bill between her fingers without hesitation. She didn’t shout. Didn’t need to. Her bet was obvious.
On you.
Her gaze stayed fixed, calm and certain as she took a slow drag from her cigarette.
The fight dragged on long enough for your knuckles to sting and your vision to blur at the edges. You took hits, solid ones, but you adjusted, waited. Then you moved. A quick pivot, a clean right hook.
The jock dropped.
The crowd erupted.
Just like that, it was over.
Money exchanged hands, bills pressed into yours from every direction. You didn’t linger. Just grabbed what was yours and stepped out of the circle, heading for a quieter spot a large rock near the water.
You counted quickly before pulling out Lottie’s hundred and holding it toward her when she followed.
She raised an eyebrow. “I bet on you. Keep it.”
“I’m not charity, Matthews,” you muttered, already reaching for your wallet.
“I never said you were.” She took a sip from her cup, unfazed. “Rules are rules. I bet, you won. That’s yours.”
You shook your head, tucking your wallet away.
“Your pretty face is messed up,” she added, smoke curling from her lips as she studied you.
You glanced up at her through one half-lidded eye. “Oh, so you think it’s pretty?”
She hummed, as she grabbed a water bottle from a nearby table. Twisting it open, she stepped closer. “And if I do?”
“I’d say that sounds like a compliment.”
“Look up,” she said, nudging your chin with her fingers.
You did, tilting your head back as cool water spilled over your face, washing away blood in thin streams. Your eyes shut instinctively, jaw tightening as it stung.
“Maybe it is a compliment,” she said.
When you looked at her again, she tipped the bottle slightly. “Open.”
“I think that’s the alcohol talking,” you muttered, but you did anyway. The water washed the metallic taste from your mouth before you spat it off to the side.
“I’m not that drunk,” she replied, using what was left to rinse your knuckles, her touch steady.
You watched her for a second. “Then why’d you bet on me?”
She shrugged, leaning against the rock next to you, flicking ash from her cigarette before taking another drag. Smoke drifted away as she turned her head slightly. Pressing the cold end of her red cup against your bruising eye.
“Because I knew you’d win.”
She glanced back at you, holding the cigarette out in offering.