The New Year arrives, fresh and full of possibility. As planned, Jax sends a message to the Young Herons asking for peace. They don’t send anything back.
Dad’s offices, closed for the holidays, finally reopen on January third, and I convince Jax to let me go on a run. Or, at least that’s where I say I’m going.
Instead, I take an early train into downtown, watching my phone’s clock the whole way. I need to be back as soon as possible, before Jax gets suspicious and looks up where I am. Fortunately, he seemed pretty tired at breakfast, and I hope he went back to bed.
Weary-eyed people jostle into the train car, sending the temperature rising even in the winter mist. By the time we’re approaching downtown, I’m sweating buckets under my layers.
Dad better have remembered the gift. Alex isn’t an active Heron anymore, so he couldn’t give me anything dangerous. I think. Before I joined, I thought past members couldn’t interfere with Wars business at all. God, that was naive. I see now the gangs are larger than I’d thought, more far-reaching, and the old members must lend a hand.
Then again, this is the same Alex who used to play-shove Matthew during family barbecues and who more than once offered to buy us booze. He went through Mom, for crying out loud. That had to mean it was safe, right?
I reach Montgomery and slide into the exodus of commuters. I take an escalator to the street and my sweaty self is immediately met by cool air. Ahh. I practically raise my hands in joy. How people do that hellish ride every day, I have no idea.
Cars and buses power up Market as I walk toward Dad’s office. I move through the crowd—a mixed bag of tech workers with badges bouncing at their hips, stockbroker-types yelling into their phones, and slow-walking tourists who are pretty sure they got off at the right BART stop. I break through and fall into stride with a pair of normal-looking natives like me, moving ahead of the rest. That’s the way we roll in SF—look straight, move fast, and mind your own damn business.
The building is an imposing structure of dark stone and black windows; in my workout top, leggings, and hot pink shoes, I’m way underdressed, but Jax had to think I was going on a run.
A sweet-faced girl greets me as I walk in. “Welcome to Monarch and Abbot. Can I help you?”
“Hi.” I brush my hair down to make sure my tattoo is hidden. “I’m here to pick up something. My dad was supposed to have left it. His name is Peter Simons.”
The girl frowns and starts opening and closing drawers, and my panic spikes. Did Dad forget?
A second receptionist catches my eye. She moves the phone from her ear to her chest. “I have it here.” She slides open a shallow drawer, and sure enough, there’s a small box wrapped in purple paper. “He just came by.”
Just came by. I’ve been worrying so much about Mom that I haven’t taken a lot of time to think about Dad. It would have been so nice to see him, even from a distance …
She hands the box to me, and I immediately want to sob at the sight of my father’s handwriting. VALERIE. Big letters. Lopsided heart.
“Thank you,” I tell them and hustle out of the building. Finding a spot outside, I rip open the paper. My name is there again, but this time in the hard, black ink of a computer:
Val,
If Jax finds this, he’ll kill you.
—Alex
The box alone tells me what it is. I lift the lid and the phone’s screen reflects my anxious face back to me.
Hands shaking, I press the power button and wait the fifteen or so seconds it takes to boot up. “Come on, come on.”
The screensaver is generic, but that’s not even close to what matters. Under Contacts is a single phone number. I hit dial.
Matthew picks up on the third ring.
“Happy belated birthday.”
Matthew couldn’t talk long—something about a meeting—but he told me to call again tonight. Hearing his voice again reminded me of how he worked to keep me out of the Young Herons. On the night we were recruited, he already knew I wasn’t getting in but didn’t tell me.
It’s one thing to know he lied by not telling me, it’s another that he broke a promise made in my brother’s spirit. He loved Leo, too. He knew what a double pinky promise meant.
When I get back to Holloway, I rough up my hair and do my best to make it look like I at least went walking, if not running. First thing I’ve got to do is hide Matthew’s phone. Everything else is second.
That plan changes once I walk in. Everyone, even Jaws, is gathered at the table. A newspaper is spread out in front of them.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“A Boar safe house got raided and a bunch of them were arrested,” Kate says, a lock of hair wrapped tightly around her index finger. “Like, a lot.”
“How many?” I ask.
“Twenty-two.”
“Holy shit.” I take a seat, keeping Matthew’s phone safe and out of view. “What happened?”
“The Young Herons happened,” Nianna says. “They’re working with the cops.”
No, I think. Just Matthew. And he’ll be able to tell me more if I manage to get this stupid phone hidden.
“The Boars were in the Mission,” Micah says. “The Herons want that ground, and it feels like they’re getting it, given how the area is gentrifying. They want the locals out, the Boars out, and more hipster techies in.”
“They’ll recruit more,” Nianna replies. “The Boars always recruit fast.” She turns to Jax. “We should build our numbers, too.”
“I agree,” says Mako. “And I know Kate does.” The girl in question nods.
Jax bobs his head from side to side. “The Boars got big, then they got lazy. We work fine how we are.” He nudges Micah. “Get Kurt and scout the Mission. I’ll have Jules and Cameron go downtown. See if the Herons have tagged it or anything yet.”
I skim the rest of the article while the others disperse—Matthew’s name is nowhere in it. Phew. Phone, I remind myself. Hide the damn phone.
I hurry into the garage and wait until the door shuts behind me. Taking the phone from my waistband, I toss it up and down like it’s a bomb I need to defuse. Hiding it in my clothes seems too obvious—and I know Jax has gone through those at least once, I remember with a blush. One of the boxes might be good, but I’ve seen Kate and Mako sift through those now and again when we need a certain kitchen gadget. Up on a shelf? I eye the height. It would be awkward getting it from there. And one wrong—possibly drunken—bump and it might fall.
I survey the garage, growing more desperate by the second. The phone’s off, of course, with no alarms, but I still want it hidden.
Bed. Boxes. Pool table. Shelves.
Pool table. Yes.
I grab a stray sock from the floor and dig around in the boxes until I find a roll of masking tape. Lying down on my back, I scoot underneath the table. With the only lights directly above it, the bottom is all shadow. I place my hand on dark wood. I can barely see it.
It’s the best I can think of right now.
Ripping off a strand of tape, I position the sock and secure it with just enough slack. I repeat the process twice more. I slide the phone in and back out, tugging on the tape to test it. It’ll hold, Valerie. It’ll hold and so can you.
I take a shower to keep up my charade, though I don’t think anyone’s even remotely suspicious. Steaming water dribbles off my fingertips as my mind flies ahead to six thirty. That’s when Matthew told me to call.
It feels so good just to know the phone is there, that the line is open. I wonder how long it took for Alex to agree to give me the phone. Would he want the future leader of the Herons to be talking to a Stag? Or would he see it as a favor to his little brother?
The thought of it being a trap comes back, sinking its teeth into my hopes. I stick my face in the shower’s spray as if hot water were the panacea for dark thoughts. It’ll be fine. It’s Matthew. It has to be fine.
The rest of the day drags. I knock on Kate’s door and ask if she wants to try to fold paper butterflies, but she shakes her head.
“I don’t really care about it anymore,” she says, handing me a stack of square paper. “You can look up how to do it online.”
“Oh, okay.” I take the paper. “Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “I’m fine. Just have a headache.”
“Okay,” I say. “But if there’s ever anything you want to talk about—”
“I’m fine,” she says, shutting the door behind her. “Just leave me alone.”
I go dejectedly back into the kitchen, chucking the paper on the table. Well, that was a bust. Now I’m worried on top of bored. I kill time watching reruns on Netflix, but the distraction barely takes.
By six o’clock, I can no longer sit still. I need privacy for Matthew’s call and breathing room for me. I find a fresh set of workout gear and put it on. Wrapping and unwrapping my headphones around my fingers, I pace the cold basement. I check and make sure I have my Stag phone—no new messages—then grab Matthew’s also and tuck the latter into my waistband. I’m halfway up the stairs when Jax opens the basement door.
He cocks his head to the side. “You already ran today.”
“I did,” I say. My pulse quickens. “I’m just antsy. Thought I’d do another quick one.”
“No. We’re still lying low. You most of all. I shouldn’t have even let you go earlier.”
Shit. “I wouldn’t be gone long.”
He shakes his head, stepping down the rest of the stairs. I pivot, keeping my right hip—and the square block of Matthew’s phone—out of his sight. Jax doesn’t say anything. He just surveys the room, glancing at the recycling bins, my bed, and my things.
What time is it? Did I already turn Matthew’s phone on? No. Definitely not. But what if it turned on by itself? No, that doesn’t happen. It’s off. I’m sure.
“I’ll just do stretches or something in the yard then,” I say quickly.
Jax shrugs. “No, no, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go run.”
“You want to go running with me?”
“Yeah.” He comes closer and I lose myself in the scent of his aftershave. “I used to run track, back in high school. It’ll be nice.”
I try to think of something, anything. Some excuse to get Jax out of the room so I can stash the phone. I can say I need to change into something warmer. Something lighter. I need water. I need my shoes.
“You go on.” Glancing quickly at his body—I mean, his clothes—I add, “Go change. I want to grab a sweatshirt.”
“I’ll wait.”
Matthew’s phone is a live grenade against my skin. I move gingerly to my set of drawers, pull out the first sweatshirt I see, and tug it on. Thankfully it’s one of my larger ones. My hip and Matthew’s phone are covered, but just barely.
“Ready.”
We go upstairs, and he goes to his room. I contemplate chucking Matthew’s phone in a bathroom cabinet or under the couch—but Kate and Mako are watching TV, so I just stand there. Fuck.
Jax comes back in a loose hoodie and basketball shorts. “Come on, Valentine.”
I expect Jax to say something about where to turn, to speed up or slow down, or to grab me and ask me what’s in my waistband.
Instead, he lets me lead. He keeps pace two steps behind me, his hair catching in the wind as he moves. My body warms and I almost relax—almost.
The sweatshirt plan has backfired. Sweat beads my skin—including down at my hip. I can feel the moisture start to dislodge Matthew’s phone. Every step and it slides down a little farther. I keep my strides short, trying to move my legs only and my hips as little as possible. It feels awkward. It looks awkward.
All the while I keep looking back at Jax. My leader keeps his finely wrought features facing forward, the streetlamps catching the green in his hazel eyes.
We reach a corner, and I stop short. I’m going to miss my call. What’s Matthew going to think if I ignore him?
“Valentine?” Jax puts his hand on the small of my back.
I jump away from him. “I can’t…”
Then it happens. The phone slides out past my waistband into the loose stretchy fabric of my leggings. Jax gently puts his hand on my arm.
“Can’t what?” he asks.
“I. Just … give me a sec.”
I crouch to the ground and fiddle with my shoelace. Jax surveys the houses around us, probably bored. We’re near the bus stop that took Micah and me to get my tattoo. I feel so much older now.
“Take your time,” he says. “No rush.”
Yes, rush. Seizing my moment, I push the phone back up and get it to an almost secure spot. I haven’t felt so panicked since my birthday. The gunfire, the weird intimidation tactic from the Boars … come to think of it, it was all a little off.
“Jax, can I ask you something?” I say. “Kate said most of what happens between the gangs is retaliation. Like what happened at Mission Dolores. You don’t kill unless someone crossed you first.”
He nods. “That’s right.”
“But on the night I was recruited, the Boars were going to kill me over nothing. For them to threaten me … it doesn’t make sense.”
Jax smiles, cocking his head to the side. “What do you think that means?”
I shrug. “Maybe they thought I was someone else.”
“Or you thought they were something else.”
“What?” I say, repeating it in my head. “Wait … were those not Boars?”
“Nope.”
“Who were they?”
“Some buddies of mine.” He’s grinning.
“You shot at them!”
“I’m sure it sounded that way. It was probably overkill, but I wanted to see if you were really committed.”
“You’re insane,” I say. A flood of worry hits me and I tack on a “sorry.”
There’s a moment of stillness, and then Jax asks, “Do you hate me?”
“No.” I swallow. “You … I just don’t understand you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I know. But I want to.”
Stillness again. Only this time I’m aware of how easily it’d be to close the distance between us. This time I’m wanting …
The wind rises, and Jax brushes my hair from my face. “We should get back,” he says quietly.
He turns abruptly, heading back the way we came, waving his hand to tell me I should follow. The wind picks back up, blowing against our bodies and pushing us back toward the house. I follow behind, thinking. Something has to make him tick, and I don’t know what that thing is. But I want to.
Even with Matthew in my heart, I’ve got Jax on my mind.
Jax turns back, sees me still sulking, and smiles. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re mad.”
I missed Matthew’s call.
I’m waiting, alone, and in bed. I told the others I had a headache and wanted some quiet for a bit. Matthew’s phone rests in my hand. I send him a trio of texts, trying to explain what happened. Finally, he replies:
I’m calling you
Seconds later, the phone buzzes and I answer immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Matthew replies. “Why didn’t you pick up?”
“Sorry. Jax made me go running with him. Well, I offered. Kinda.”
He clears his throat. “Have you thought any more about what I said? About leaving the Wars?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And what? Matthew, no one leaves.”
“No one has before,” he says. “But they can now. You can. That’s what I’ve been working with John about.”
“John Kilmer,” I say. “The chief of police.”
“Jax told you?”
“I read it somewhere.” I exhale hard into the phone. “Do you remember him?”
A pause. “Yes.”
Memories flash in my brain like a silent movie—lying in my bed after getting no sleep. Mom making me get dressed and come downstairs. Two police officers sitting on our couch. Nothing had ever looked so unnatural to me. Kilmer had a beard then.
“I didn’t know he’d become chief.” When Matthew doesn’t say anything, I exhale a small huh. “I take it you did.”
“I kept in touch with him on and off.” Matthew’s tone hardens. “Hey, Val, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” So fucking cute when you’re mad—why can’t I get that out of my head? “I was just afraid the phone might go off or something.”
“Okay. It’s all right. Listen, I don’t have much time, so I’ll just say it. I want to end the Wars. It’s horrible, what happened to Annie, but that was a long time ago. Everything now is just retaliation. Or insanity. Jesus, Val, you should hear some of the things the other Herons say.”
“Like what?”
“It’s like I told you. They keep expanding and partnering with businesses because they can. Because they don’t like the Boars. And they talk about it so casually under this pretense of improving the city. I don’t know how Alex did this. It freaks me out.” He clears his throat. “That’s why I want to end it. The program John and I’ve made—it’ll keep you safe. I know it. I just need you to be the first.”
“Why don’t you be first?”
“I can’t. It’d be too convenient for the son of the family bankrolling it to enroll.”
“Meaning your parents don’t want you going public as being part of the Young Herons,” I shoot back. “How are they okay with this, anyway? I thought they wanted revenge.”
“Ending the Wars this way still gives the Herons some control. There’s no way around that.” He exhales heavily. “Look, I just need someone else. Why won’t you just say yes? Ending it is the right thing to do.”
“I can’t go. I have to stay for Leo. I want to stay for Leo. That’s the whole reason I joined!”
“I know, I know. I haven’t forgotten. I’ll find a way to take care of it. Just promise me you’ll join TRUCE. Join up, then people in the gangs will see it’s legit. Then we’ll run. Anywhere you want.”
An idea strikes me. “Can’t you get one of the Boars from the Mission to sign up?”
“Kilmer says they’re not caving. They don’t trust the cops. You’re different, Val. Leave the Stags. You’ll be safe.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Trust me.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
I want to catch the words as soon as they’re out, but I can’t. I envision Matthew on the other end of the line, maybe sitting down in shock, or with his thumb across his lips like he does when he’s frustrated. Whatever he’s doing, he is doing it in silence.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, Matthew. Please. It’s just a lot. What you’re asking. I want to help. And I’m trying my best but … I’m scared, okay? One of the Boars will cave. They’ve got to. Until then, I’m safe here. The Stags aren’t like the others.”
“Yes, they are.”
Well, that’s what they said about you. “Look, Jax knows who killed Leo. And I’m getting closer to him telling me. Just give me time.”
“You’d stay with Jax? Val, no.”
“Jax might be the only person who knows,” I say. “I can’t lose that chance. Not now.”
“And I can’t have you getting hurt for those, what? Godless heathens?”
I hear the desperate laugh in his voice. He’s trying to make a joke. Godless heathens is a nickname Lyla and the other theater kids gave to themselves—with pride, I might add. Matthew and I only ever used it with playful sarcasm.
I don’t laugh, and instead we drift into a long silence. “What if they go after my parents?”
“They’re safe. Alex and some of the Herons from his year have been keeping watch on them.”
What? “My mom said he came over. You … did that?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You’re welcome. Now, please say you’ll join TRUCE. I’ll come get you. Right now. Wherever you are.”
I weigh my choices, placing both options on a mental scale. The sides dip and sway as I try to keep track of the consequences of each choice. If I go, I’m with Matthew but I never get the Boar who killed Leo. I’m promised safety and Matthew’s presence, but at the expense of my revenge—not to mention my name and privacy. Anyone who didn’t see it when SFPD tweeted my face to the world would certainly see it this time. Mom and Dad will have to go through a new shade of the hell they’ve already been through.
If I stay, then I keep my growing hope for closure. I’ve already made it a few months. I bet I can make it a year. TRUCE will find someone else, I’m sure of it. Mom and Dad get their daughter back after her year away.
The scale clinks solidly. I stay.
“I can’t go, Matthew,” I say. “I won’t put Mom and Dad through anything else. Not again. Besides, I think I’m close to finding the Boar.”
“Val, you could save someone’s life. A lot of lives, actually.”
I’d been so wrapped up in my selfishness that I forgot the most obvious repercussion of my going—ending the Wars. How terrible of a person am I that I’d choose my own gain over other people’s losses? My mental scale tips back again, uneven.
“I need time,” I say, finally. “Let … let me think about it.”
“Take all the time you need,” he replies, though I suspect he doesn’t mean it. “When you’re ready, I’ll come to you. I’ll find a way out of here. What do you think?”
I think Jax may actually kill me if he finds out I’ve left again. “I’ll think about it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Matthew hangs up, and I feel his ghost instantly, like when you stare at something bright and see the spots after you close your eyes. A hollowness of something that is no longer there. I turn off Matthew’s phone and put it back in its place. I trudge up the stairs to join the others. Nianna spots me first.
“How’s the headache?”
“Better,” I say, remembering my own excuse.
“There’s aspirin in the bathroom,” she says. She motions to Jax’s room. “Micah’s back from scouting. He and Jax are talking.”
“Did he seem okay?” I ask.
“I think so,” she replies. “But we’ll see.”
When the door finally opens, both Jax and Micah are smiling.
“Hey,” I say. “So, what happened?”
Jax gives Micah a nod, and the latter clears his throat. “The Heron symbol was everywhere. Walls, telephone poles, café tables.” I shiver—if the Herons take the Mission, it’ll mean a lot of displaced families. Folks whose parents came here with nothing and who built their lives up around San Francisco.
“I wonder if people in the Mission want them there,” Nianna says.
“Who wants what where?” asks Mako, coming in from the hall.
“Young Herons in the Mission,” Nianna says again. “Money makes people feel safe. If you were a rich white twenty-whatever moving into an unfamiliar neighborhood, what would make you feel better?”
Mako frowns. “Other rich twenty-whatevers.”
“Other white twenty-whatevers,” Nianna corrects pointedly. “But yeah. More people like them with their own values.”
“Let the people think what they think. Our next phase with the Boars will change their minds,” says Jax. “Mako. Beers.”
Mako dutifully gets the bottles. I wave mine off in favor of a glass of water. I need a clear head. Jax raises his drink. “To our comrade, Micah, who hath returned unscathed.” Micah rolls his eyes, smiling, and raises his beer.
“And to Valentine,” Jax finishes.
My head snaps up. “For what?”
“For being so damn pretty.”
Mako chuckles. “And for letting us put the pool table in her bedroom.”
All of them laugh and I smile, too, but I can feel Jax’s gaze on me. I force a smile, focus on Micah, and raise my cup toward him.
The Stags do what they do best. Mako pours tequila shots. Someone knocks over the salt shaker and Jax freaks out at the possible bad omen, eliciting amused laughter from the rest of us. We make our way to the living room where Mako stretches his arm over the sofa. He laughs and reaches for Micah in the papasan across from him.
“Dude, you be Jesus, and I’ll be God.”
Micah reaches toward him with one finger extended with his mouth gaping, just like the painting. We explode into hysterics.
“It’s not even Jesus in the painting,” Nianna says, wiping a tear from her eye, and we laugh harder.
“Such a nerd,” Mako retorts.
She shrugs. “You love me.”
Jax, Mako, and Nianna take the couch. Kate joins later and sits on the ground, letting Nianna braid her hair. Nianna’s fingers comb through the gold, working out the tangles. She turns to me. “Feeling better?”
I nod.
“Good.”
“Yay,” Kate murmurs. I sit down next to her as Mako gets a movie started.
The air is a shimmery haze. My breath is heavy and weightless at the same time. Godless heathens they may be, but they are mine. Like Matthew was mine—is mine?
The difference is that the Stags are here.
A couple days later, Jax rounds us all up to let us know our next plan of attack against the Herons. Mako calls Jules so she, Kurt, and Cameron can listen in from the Mission. They’ve been ordered to lie low and observe if the Young Herons are making a move without being too obvious.
“A propaganda campaign,” Jax announces when we’re all ready.
“Like, flyers?” says Juliet on speaker. “That’s new.”
“Think about it. We can’t do anything violent or that would lend credibility to the Herons’ claim that we’re a violent bunch of uncontrollable idiots who need something like TRUCE,” he says. “Instead, we’re going to be smart about it. We’re going to leverage the Boars’ numbers and cover this town with evidence that the Young Herons have got to be stopped, plus ways they can help our cause.”
“What kind of evidence?” I ask.
“Anything we can dig up,” he replies. “Headlines about the businesses pushed out by tech, stats on the changing demographics of the city, costs of the Heron-owned housing. Numbers on how much these tech companies are making and how little they donate to the city. Even more—names of places where people can donate money and volunteer.”
Over by the sink, Nianna hops down from her seat on the counter. “What’s our endgame?”
“Turn the tide without shedding blood,” Jax replies. “Anyone gets hurt, anything gets damaged—that’s adding fuel to the Herons’ fire. Instead, we’re going to get citizens talking, get people to realize that the San Francisco they know now isn’t the utopia the Young Herons have made them think it is. There’s so much more we can do, but we have to loosen the Herons’ grip first.”
Micah clears his throat. “And the Boars are okay with this?”
“Ty said he had a few members resist, but any change brings resistance,” Jax says. “Like I said, we’re thinking like Stags and using the Boars for numbers. We’ll hang up physical posters and run a social media campaign, since we got all those new followers after the protest.” Jax pauses, reading the room. No one stirs. “I take it you all don’t think it’ll work.”
More silence. Finally, Nianna caves. “I like the nonviolence, obviously. I just don’t know if it’ll have the splash you’re looking for.”
“It will when every single person going to work in FiDi and SoMa on Monday morning is swamped with these flyers. Trust me. It will work.”
“All right,” I say. “I’m in. What should we do first?”
Jax claps. “Thank you, Valentine. First, we all research. Put all your ideas, any headlines you find—anything that pops into your head goes into a document. Then I’ll comb through it with Ty and combine the lists that the Boars make. Then we print. On Sunday night, we’ll meet up with the Boars and divide the flyers and tape ’em up.”
“I’ll bring the Red Bull,” Mako says, nodding approvingly.
We waste no time digging in. First on the list is the name of the corner store where we had the protest. Sharing the same doc, we add to the list all at once—recounting communities displaced by new Heron-affiliated housing, businesses like taxi services and restaurants that shuttered when tech offered their own free versions of the same services.
A new, ugly feeling blooms in my stomach. Dad works in the Mid-Market area, and his company is large enough that it offers its employees perks like that—perks that trickled down to me in some way, shape, or form. Am I a hypocrite for helping put these companies on blast like this? I sigh and hit enter to move myself to a new line. Even if I am a hypocrite, I do believe these companies can be doing more. And now that I know the Young Herons purposely target vulnerable communities, I am fully in favor of stopping that.
Down the hall, Jax is on the phone. The door’s slightly ajar, and I can hear him talking slowly, purposefully. When he hangs up, I catch him saying, “Thanks, Theresa.”
Jax comes into the living room where the group of us is stationed, doing research. He hands me a paper with a couple of company names listed.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Gift from Theresa. More companies that the Herons are working with that aren’t publicly affiliated with them yet.”
“Got it,” I reply. “So, dig in and find out what kind of work they have planned, because that’s actually the Herons that have something planned.”
“Bingo. More fuel for Sunday,” he says.
“Awesome.” I type the first name into Google and hand the paper to Mako on my left. “You take the second, and so on?”
We work until the evening. The next morning, Nianna and I weed through the document while Mako, Micah, and Kate map out the best routes for us and the Boars to take. Jax drifts in and out of his room, coordinating with Ty. The more I scroll, the more I can feel my disgust at the Herons rise. I sit back from my laptop and drain the rest of my coffee.
“There’s so much here,” I say quietly. “I didn’t realize they were so involved in everything.”
“The Herons are ruthless,” Nianna replies. “I wasn’t convinced this would work, but it’s at least going to get folks talking.”
“Like,” I say, scrolling until I find the page I’m looking for, “there was a senior center that got ousted because of funding problems. They couldn’t afford their rent. That’s so sad.”
“Yeah,” Nianna replies. “I remember when that happened. That’s why we gotta do our best to fight back now, for the ones who can’t.”
Sunday night rolls around, and we each pack a backpack with the flyers—thousands in all. Juliet, Cameron, and Kurt come by and grab their own backpacks.
“What do you think of this?” I ask Juliet as I tug on a black sweatshirt over my fleece sweater.
She shrugs. “Could go either way. Regardless, we’re going to get shit for littering.” She says the last bit with a smile. “Who knows? It’s gonna make a hell of an impact.”
Since we’ll all be out with a handful of Boars, Jax has told us to stay wary, but welcoming. It is a partnership, after all.
Looping my hair into a ponytail, I tuck the length up and into a beanie. Zipping my sweatshirt all the way up, I go to the bathroom and check in the mirror that my tattoo is totally hidden. There’s no telling what cameras may be on us as we canvass the streets.
Making sure the door is locked, I take out Matthew’s phone, gripping it tight. I know we’re going downtown. Will I have enough time to sneak away to see him? Sweat beads at the back of my neck as I open the phone and start typing. He’s been texting every couple of days, asking me if I’ve come to a decision.
Truth is, no matter how much I seem to muddle it, I can’t get myself to go into TRUCE—I couldn’t do that to my parents, nor am I really confident I could bear being in the spotlight like that again.
The memories of the days following Leo’s death are sharp as glass. Most people have no idea what it’s like to lose someone so publicly. They don’t know what it’s like to have reporters show up on your doorstep asking for a statement. They don’t know what it’s like to watch the news and see your brother’s face, in a photo that you’d be in too if you weren’t cropped out of it.
My parents and I bore that both together and totally apart. They’re already trying, already tired. I can’t put them through the media circus again, not when staying with the Stags means I have the chance to make it right for all three of us. But that kind of an explanation isn’t something for texting. And if I’m already going to be downtown, I might as well try to talk to him then.
I’ll be downtown tonight. I don’t know where yet. Can you meet me?
I take my time washing my hands, all the while keeping my eyes on my phone. My heart leaps in my throat as he answers:
I can try. When?
Late, I reply. We’re leaving at midnight.
OK, he replies. Text me when and where.
Kate knocks at the door. “You ready, Val?”
“Yeah!” I join her and the others in the kitchen where, true to his word, Mako got us all Red Bulls. I’m hoping the nap I took earlier will help, but Jax wants us up most of the night. Lifting my can, I take a sip. Not bad. I drink the rest slowly as we all wait for Jax. Somehow he’s always the last one ready.
We drive downtown to rendezvous with the Boars. It’s a quiet night, with most of the city asleep and waiting to start their week. Would anyone bother to stop and read our signs at all? Or would they dismiss them as a nuisance and a waste of paper?
One thing’s for sure, they’re going to see them. Unzipping the backpack on my lap, I smile at the neon-colored paper inside. Neon—our signature’s going to be all over downtown without one drop of paint.
“Ty wants each of you with some of his men. I’ll be watching you guys on my phone the whole time,” Jax says as we get close. “Anything goes off, you defend yourself and send the panic alert when you can.”
“Wait, we’re splitting up?” Micah asks.
Jax nods. “A sign of trust between us and Ty.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“We do what we have to do. It’s just for an hour, and Ty says he’s picked his most loyal guys. It’s us against the Herons. The Boars know that.”
Micah sighs and sits back in his chair, defeated. I shoot him a look so he knows I’m not thrilled about the idea either. For good measure, I pull out my Stag phone and watch the blue light that represents me move across the screen. In the far right corner, a red bell symbol moves every few seconds. If I hit that, it sends an alert to the other Stags of where I am. Hopefully I won’t be dead in some alley by the time they come get me, I think bitterly. But if we’re splitting up, there’s a good chance I’ll be able to meet Matthew.
Jaws drops us off at the rendezvous spot. I climb out and stand beside Jax, watching as he scans the park. At first, I think Jaws got the spot wrong—then, slowly, the Boars start to come out from the dark. Even in the dim streetlight, I recognize Ty Boreas. His second, Adam Yglesias, follows right behind him, and groups of others trail behind.
“Right on time,” says Ty.
Jax offers his hand. “Wouldn’t want to be late to the party.”
Ty shakes it, then turns and waves his hand to the figures behind him. “Three of my guys with each of yours,” he says. “I’ve stationed others around the whole area, to keep watch.”
“Roger that,” Jax responds. He turns to us. “We do this as fast as we can, as much as we can. Don’t make it perfect. One hour, then send your location to Jaws. He’ll come get you.”
“Okay,” Nianna and I reply in unison. She gives me a look, but I ignore her. I’m thinking of the other phone in my pocket. I only have an hour, and I’m going to be with the Boars the whole time. My heart sinks. There’s no way Matthew is going to be able to find me.
Ty turns to his men. “Go.” It’s a statement, not a question. Ty is a leader, after all.
All too soon, we divide up. I’m trying to be brave, but going solo with the Boars has me so on edge I could throw up. My adrenaline races, fueled by fear and Red Bull, as I look at the three Boars I’m with.
They introduce themselves one by one: Trey, TJ, and Red. I introduce myself as Valentine—why not, right? Trey shakes my hand first—though he looks like he resents the motion. TJ is next, his mess of long, stringy, dark hair falling in his face as he gives me an upward nod. Red shakes my hand last, keeping his hood up and head down the whole time.
“Here’s our route,” I say, and I lay the map down for all of them. “We take Battery to Jackson, then wind through the side streets and eventually end up on Kearny.” The trio doesn’t interrupt, so I keep going. “Remember what Jax said. We move fast. Our goal is coverage everywhere. Whatever’s left over at the end, we’ll just toss on the sidewalks. Got it?”
“Got it,” TJ responds. He shifts so his own backpack is in front of him. “Load us up.”
The four of us divide the papers, and each of the other groups does the same. As we head out, I look over my shoulder at Jax—and see Ty looking back, too. Not at his men, but just at me. Our gazes meet, and he turns away, shaking his head. What was that?
My nerves don’t lessen as Trey, TJ, Red, and I start hanging up the Herons’ “crimes.” We use precut sticky foam—just peel, stick, move on. The Boars impress me with their efficiency, and after the first street I turn back, admiring the neon wake we’re leaving. “Let’s keep going,” I say, shivering in the night’s chill. “Next street.”
I let them go ahead, getting my bearings as best I can. There won’t be much time, and I’m not even sure if Matthew will find me, but I take out his phone anyway. Taking a deep breath, I switch it over to vibrate then go to Settings and activate Location. Then I send him where I am.
With Boars, I text quickly. Be careful.
“Hey, quit slacking!”
I look up, and Trey is looking at me, eyes wide like What the fuck are you doing? and I can’t tell if he means it in jest or not.
“Sorry,” I mutter, shoving Matthew’s phone back in my pocket. “Just giving Jax an update.”
I double my poster speed as we go. It doesn’t take a lot of time to figure out it’s easier in pairs, so Trey and I work in unison. He holds the poster, I do the foam stickers on the back, and he sets the poster up. The stack dwindles faster than I thought it would, and I keep checking Matthew’s phone for an update. Maybe it’s too difficult for him to sneak out after all—he did say they’ve been cooping him up.…
I send my location again.
“Jax again,” I say apologetically as Trey tacks up another flyer on his own. “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
I duck into an alley next to an Irish pub. I’m typing as fast as I can when—
“Val!”
Matthew’s in a dark hoodie and sweats—he must have just rolled out of bed. We hesitate a moment, then hug. He kisses me, and for some reason I wasn’t expecting it.
He takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
I tighten my hand around his. “Wait, what? Go where?”
“Back to the Herons,” he says. He’s breathless, but smiling. “I knew you’d understand.”
“No, wait.” Shit. “I didn’t come here to join TRUCE. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
“Wait, what? Why not?”
Quickly and quietly, I recap my entire logic about my parents—sparing them any more hurt. And, frankly, I want revenge. Matthew listens, even leans in as I whisper but his face remains unchanged. “I just can’t do that to them,” I finish.
“Look, I get it. What you’re saying makes sense. But in TRUCE, you’ll be safe. Not out doing whatever it is you’re doing here.”
“I know, but Matthew,” I say. “I joined the Wars for a reason, and that’s to find the guy who killed Leo. I’m not going to abandon that. Not now.”
“Fine,” he says. “Well, if not you, then are there any other Stags that might?”
I let go of his hand. “That was fast.”
“I know, but look. I know you; once you make up your mind you don’t change it. I can’t force you, and either way it’ll look so much better if someone comes forward voluntarily.”
My first thought is, of course, Kate. With the Herons’ money and resources, she could get the help she needs—that is, if she’s willing to take it. Besides, going into TRUCE would mean she’d be separated from Mako, who on most days I swear is what keeps her alive.
“There’s one Stag I can try,” I say. “But she’s stubborn. I’ll text you once I talk to her, but right now I gotta go.”
“What?”
I try to hug him but since he doesn’t lift his arms in time to return it, I mostly just succeed in pinning his arms to his sides. I duck back out the alley—and right into Red, TJ, and Trey. An empty backpack hangs at Red’s side.
“Where did you—hey, what the fuck?” Red shoves me aside, and grabs at Matt’s sweatshirt. The latter staggers back and tries to run, but soon all three of them are on him. “Who the fuck are you?”
Fuck fuck fuck. If they recognize Matt, they might very well kill him. So I say the exact opposite of what happened.
“He just came up and grabbed me!” I scream, real tears springing from my eyes because I don’t just know what’s going to happen next, I can feel it. “Holy shit, holy fucking shit.”
I stagger back, the victim, as Red lands the first blow. If these are Ty’s best men, they’ll know what a truce between the Boars and Stags means. They may not protect me like Jax would, but they’ll do enough.
Jax. I pull out my Stag phone and, with trembling fingers, push the alert button. The Boars take turns hitting Matthew as he staggers up from the ground. Blood, black as ink in the low light, litters the ground. I step between them, raising my hands. “That’s enough! Let’s go, let’s just fucking go. Please.”
Red spits and kicks Matthew hard in the ribs one last time. The sound of Matthew’s wet coughs—spit, blood, who knows—rings in my ears worse than TJ saying “fucking bastard” as we leave.
The three surround me as we hustle back toward the rendezvous point. I text Jax:
Some guy tried to grab at me. I’m ok. With Boars heading back to rendezvous.
I hit send, but moments later a horn honks, and I spin. He got my alert. Jax practically launches himself out of the van door before Jaws pulls over, and he puts his arms around me so hard it nearly knocks me over.
“Where?” he says, voice ragged.
“A few streets back. I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“I’ll fucking kill them.”
“The Boars got him,” I reply. Jax loosens his grip, and I nod at the trio of them. “Thank you.” Please, for the love of God, none of you mention I was alone.
“The Stags owe you guys one,” Jax says. “I’ll tell Ty, whatever you need.”
“No problem,” Trey replies, his glee evident.
“You have my word. You three good on your own?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He puts his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get the others.”
I nod, and when we climb into the van I purposely take the farthest seat. Once we start moving, I pull out Matthew’s phone and lower the brightness. He literally just got beaten on the street, what the fuck can I say? Stalling, I switch the Location setting back to off. After that, there’s nothing else to keep me texting. Time is dwindling, so I just text what I thought in that one, impossible moment:
I’m sorry. If they recognized you, they would have killed you. Please say something.
I pause, breath tight in my throat when I see he’s typing. Then:
Did you set me up?
Five words. Five words with the weight of worlds swallowed up inside of them, crashing into me. How could he think that? Does he really think I’ve changed so much? The Matthew I grew up with, the one who loved me, would never think that.
No. It just happened. I’m sorry, I type again, then shove the phone in my pocket just in time for us to come to a stop back at the rendezvous point as the van door slides open once more.
Micah sees me first, and climbs in next to me. “What happened?”
“Some guy jumped out of this alleyway,” I say. “I’m fine, the Boars fought him off.”
“What?” Kate says, and she immediately begs me for the details. I keep it simple and short, then switch gears.
“You guys do okay?”
Mako lifts off his cap and scratches under his hair. “Boars were pretty chill, though one of them did say they have never done shit like this before.” He pauses, reading Jax’s reaction from the front seat. “Direct quote.”
Jax is quiet, only moving as the van bounces as we get onto the freeway. “We’ll see what the city thinks in the morning. Tonight let’s just get home.”
Fine by me, I think, and I curl into a ball in the backseat. Blotting my eyes with my sweatshirt, I pray that when I get home I’ll have a text from Matthew saying he understands, that he’s okay.
We’re nearly home when I remember I switched the phone to vibrate and never switched it back. Which means Matthew is silent as the distant stars, and I find myself repeating the same thought that circled the day my brother died: What have I done?