Run the Risk by Allison Van Diepen

Author:Allison Van Diepen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-02-03T16:00:00+00:00

EXPOSED

I WOKE UP ON A fold-out chair with kinks all over and an aching heart. Around four a.m., a car crash victim had been wheeled into the room. I’d hardly slept since then. I kept picturing Alex getting hurt in the fight and Mateo swooping in to rescue him.

And me kissing Luke.

When Alex woke up, he saw me and rolled his eyes. “Do I get a lecture?” he grumbled.

“Do you need one?”

“No.”

“I’m pretty good at keeping my mouth shut these days, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. My head hurts.”

“You have a concussion.”

“Duh. I guess Mateo called you.”

I nodded.

“What did he tell you?”

Alex wanted to hear Mateo’s version before telling his.

“He didn’t tell me much—just that there was a fight and you got knocked out.”

“Yeah.” Alex glanced toward the window. There was stuff he didn’t want to say. No surprise there. I would get the whole story, but now wasn’t the time to demand details.

“Just tell me one thing for now.”

He looked at me from below droopy lids.

“Are you going back to the Locos?”

“No,” he said fiercely. “They almost got me killed. If Mateo hadn’t been there, I’d have been . . . fucked.”

I believed him. Whatever had gone down last night had changed his view of the Locos. Maybe this was what he needed to wake him up.

“Alex?” A gravelly voice called from the doorway.

Dad hurried into the room. He bent over the bed. “Grace said you were hurt.”

Alex’s lower lip jutted. I didn’t know if he wanted to give attitude or cry. “Hey, Dad,” he said, and reached out for a hug.

Dad drove us home in his girlfriend’s Ford Taurus—he’d borrowed it to get here as soon as possible. Maybe I should feel bad for making that panicked call on the way to the hospital and telling him to come home right away. Alex wasn’t exactly at death’s door.

But I wasn’t sorry. Dad needed to be here.

Alex slept the day away. The doctor had told me to wake him every two hours to make sure he was okay. I’d ask him a couple of questions, like what his name was and how old he was. He’d curse under his breath, answer the dumb questions, and wave me away.

Dad went to bed too. He’d driven nine hours straight without stopping.

I spent the day pacing the house and making chili, since I didn’t know what else to do.

Around five p.m., Dad woke up and shuffled downstairs, saying that the smell of the chili had woken him. I served him a bowl along with some buttered bread.

Dad looked better than usual these days. I could tell his girlfriend, Carol Ann, had been making him over. The clothes were new: a soft plaid shirt and jeans that actually fit him. His sandy-colored hair was cut neatly, and his brows, ear, and nose hair had all been trimmed. Instead of the usual stubble, he was clean-shaven. He looked ten years younger.

After shoveling in a few bites and drinking some water, he asked, “What happened to him last night?”

“He was hanging around with a gang, and they got into a fight with a rival gang.

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