“Right.” Abel jogs off in the opposite direction.

As we follow Lex and Cruz, the crowd parts for Marco, and people compliment him on his driving. He’s polite but never stops moving, like I’m a live grenade and he can’t wait to get rid of me.

“Where did you park?” he asks.

“Over there by the streetlight,” I say.

The Fiat comes into view, and Lex exhales.

“Where are your keys?” Cruz asks her.

Lex searches through her bag. Dad would freak if I walked up to my car at night without the keys in my hand, ready to unlock the door. “Found them.” She holds up her Tiffany key chain.

“Come on.” Cruz walks ahead of Lex like a bodyguard.

Marco clears his throat. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Fine.” I hang back and watch as Lex gets in the car. Cruz leans against the passenger side.

Marco steps in front of me so I have no choice but to look at him. “I think you’re pissed at the wrong guy. Your boyfriend is an asshole for asking you to come down here and bail him out.”

My what?

“Abel? He’s not my boyfriend. I’ve known him forever. And no one asked you to get involved and start World War III. I had it worked out.”

“Which part? Sung dragging you around, or what could’ve happened if you got into a car alone with him?” My hands start shaking, and I jam them in my pockets so he won’t notice. “Things could’ve ended differently tonight. The guys who hang out at the races aren’t good guys.”

“You hang out here,” I say.

“Exactly.”

Is he trying to scare me?

Marco rubs the back of his neck. “I grew up in the Downs, so I know how to take care of myself. But a girl like you shouldn’t come here. Ever.”

A girl like you. There it is.

A rich girl from the Heights? A girl who doesn’t do anything when someone beats her boyfriend to death? A girl who can’t even remember who did it?

Anger twists me into knots. Anger at Abel for getting himself into this mess. Anger at myself for coming here alone with Lex. Anger at Marco for acting like I can’t take care of myself.

“A girl like what? A stupid girl? Is that what you were going to say?” I walk away. I’ve taken enough crap for one night.

“Hold up a second. If I thought you were stupid, I’d say so.”

I whip around. “Then what did you mean by ‘a girl like you’? What kind of girl am I, Marco?”

“I’m not sure yet.” His voice sounds the way it did when he spoke to Sofia—gentle and sincere. But it doesn’t matter. It feels like I’m standing on a ledge with the wind blowing, and all it would take is a tiny push to make me fall. Marco could be that push.

This time, I look him in the eye. “Let me know if you figure it out.”

Turning my back on him, I walk to the Fiat, even though what I really want to do is run. Before I close the door I sneak one last glance at him.

He’s staring right at me.

* * *

Lex doesn’t say a word until we hit the beltway. “What just happened?”

“Which part?” I’m still trying to figure it out myself.

“I don’t know … how about why Marco Leone put his ass on the line for us? Or why he was staring at you like something was going on, and threatening anyone who came near you?” She taps on her temple. “Pick one.” The edge in her voice feels like an accusation.

“Why do you sound pissed off?”

She pulls at the choppy ends of her hair. “So is there something going on between you two? Because he’s a total lunatic, in case you didn’t pick up on that after this morning and tonight.”

“Nothing is going on. I don’t know why Marco did any of that stuff. I talked to him for two minutes when he picked up his sister from the rec center.” It’s all true, and pointing out how much I can’t explain just makes it more confusing.

Lex’s cell phone chirps for the tenth time, signaling an incoming text. She ignores it. A second later, my phone vibrates.

i screwed up. i’m sorry.

???

u there?

I hold up my phone so she can see the text. “It’s Abel.”

Lex tightens her grip on the wheel and speeds up. “I don’t care.”

“Will you tell me what’s going on with him?”

“After we finish talking about you and Marco.”

“There’s no me and Marco. Why are you acting so bitchy? Do you think I’m lying? What could possibly have happened since this morning?”

Her phone chirps again, and she tosses it on the dash without looking at the message. “Marco Leone is trouble. Ask anyone at Monroe. He gets in fights constantly, and a he’s total manwhore.”

“You did not just say manwhore.”

She glares at me. “He has hooked up or slept with at least half the girls at Monroe, maybe more. Please stay away from him, Frankie. The way he was looking at you…”

“What?”

“He’s interested.” Lex passes a car that’s driving too slowly in the left lane.

The idea of Marco hooking up with lots of girls bothers me more than it should. The only girl I’ve seen him with is Cruz.

I never went through the bad-boy phase like most of my friends. Clean-cut was my type—ink-free jocks who spent their nights at lacrosse or ice hockey practice, not driving in illegal street races. Bad boys equaled risk, and the old Frankie didn’t take chances. Then again, there weren’t a lot of gorgeous, tattooed bad boys hanging around the Heights.

Lex glances over at me. “Whatever you’re thinking … you should think about something else, or someone else. Anyone but Marco. You don’t need any more trouble.”

Something snaps inside me, setting off a chain reaction of emotions. Frustration, anger, sadness, and shame—they fall one by one like dominoes.

“You sound like my dad.” I’m sick of everyone telling me what to do and who I should be. I’m not a rebellious kid screwing up to get attention.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Frankie.” Lex takes a deep breath. “I really missed you this summer. You would’ve known what to do about Abel.”

“When did he start gambling?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t figure it out right away. At least I don’t think I did.” Lex talks fast, the way she always does when she’s nervous or upset. “I found sixty or seventy scratch-off lotto tickets crammed in the pockets of his jeans one night when I stayed over. Who buys sixty scratch-off tickets in one day?”