Tally sits on the couch, curled up under a giant, fuzzy blanket. Her pale shoulders peek out over the rim of the blanket, against the fabric of her singlet. I walk over to her with two bowls of hot popcorn. She turns to me when she hears the floor creak. Her eyes zero in on the popcorn and she grins, reaching her hands out to take it.

I slump down on the other side of the couch, half on top of her feet. Tally munches noisily on the popcorn. I press the play button and the movie illuminates our faces in the darkened room. Bags of candy are strewn across the coffee table as well as cans of pop. We're probably headed for a mouthful of cavities, but it will be worth it.

I throw a piece of popcorn at Tally's nose when she starts eating too loud. She wrinkles her nose and throws a piece back at me.

"Why are you always so noisy when you eat?" I ask.

"It's a God-given talent," she answers.

I roll my eyes. "Right, of course. My mistake."

"We shouldn't have done this on a school night," Tally comments. "Waking up tomorrow will be hell. Also, I don't have any clothes."

I shrug. "We're about the same size so just grab a hoodie."

She grins lazily at me. "We're sharing clothes now? I guess we should make this official. When's the coming-out party?"

"Well you did kiss me," I tease and Tally snorts loudly.

"No lie there."

Tally turns her head back to the TV but I continue to look at her. Guilt clenches around my chest. I've known her for years and every little aspect of our lives has been open and bare to each other. She knew every deep-rooted thought that went through my mind when my mom died. I know every painful thought that goes through her head when her parents go at each other. But she barely knows about what's happened the last few weeks. She doesn't know that my dad gambled away money or that the people who attacked him are after Tyler. She doesn't know that I'm terrified of closing my eyes for too long.

I look away from her when staring for too long just makes me feel worse. I chew the inside of my cheek and link my hands together tightly.

I know the piece of popcorn is coming at me but don't have quick enough reflexes to bat it away before it hits me in the cheek.

"What was that for?" I ask Tally.

"Stop being grumpy, you're sucking the air out of the room."

"I'm not sucking anything!"

"Oh, I can definitely tell from how grumpy you've been lately that you haven't sucked anything," Tally mutters.

I groan and put my head in my hands. "Tally, shut up."

She laughs. "Oh, come on. I know there's something happening between you and Tyler."

"Nothing is . . . " I start then sigh. "You're just going to make things awkward."

"Well, of course! That's the purpose of my existence," she says.

My phone goes off, and I shift around until I can yank it out of my back pocket. When I press down on the main button, the screen lights up harshly and I squint. I dim the brightness and click on my messages, reading the last one first.

: I need your help.

I frown and stand up from the couch. "One second, Tal, I need to call someone."

Tally frowns but nods her head before going back to her popcorn. I walk around the corner until I'm in the kitchen and the sound of the television is enough to block me out. I press the call button beside Tyler's name and hold the phone up to my ear.

"Fran," he answers. "I've done something."

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" I ask and hear him sigh agitatedly through the phone. I clench my hand over the edge of the kitchen counter. "Ty . . . "

"I'm outside," he finally says, and my eyes widen.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I'm not just going to—"

"Franny," he snaps. "I need you to help me. I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to, you know that."

"Green to red, how bad is it?"

"Bright fucking red."

I bite my lip and gulp. "Okay," I say. "I'll be out as soon as I can."

I hang up and slide the phone into my back pocket once again. I walk around the corner and back into the living room where Tally is still sitting on the couch. She turns the volume down and turns her head towards me when I slowly walk over.

"Everything okay?" she asks.

I blink. I gulp. I lie.

"It's my dad," I say. "He's asking for me, pain must be back up or something. It happens from time to time."

"He going to be okay?" Tally asks.

I nod. "Yeah he'll . . . he'll be okay, but I should really go check on him especially if he's asking for me."

Tally nods and sits upright. "Right, of course. Need me to come?"

"No I'll be fine, no worries. You going to be okay for a bit?"

Tally rolls her eyes. "I'll be just fine."

"Okay," I say and grab my coat from the banister. "You can do whatever you want, I don't care. Just don't have a full-on party."

Tally grins. "I'll try not to. But no promises."

I smile tightly and slide my boots on. "Alright, I'll see you later."

"See you," Tally calls out as I shut the front door behind me.

I let out a long breath and close my eyes for a few seconds before shaking my shoulders and brushing my hair out of my face. I walk down the path and past the tire swing until I reach the dull, rusty red truck. The headlights are on and they glare onto the white garage doors. I pull the passenger door open and climb inside, gripping my front door key in my hand.

"Can you not dim the headlights at all?" I ask. "Tally knows what your truck looks like." I get no answer and huff, sliding my key into my front pocket. "What's the problem? What did you do?"

The radio plays softly between us and when he doesn't answer, I snap.

"Are you going to answer?" I ask. "I just lied to my best friend and used my hospital-bound dad as an excuse! What did you do? Is it Carl again?"

I don't even hear a breath out of him. I turn in my seat and stare at him but in the darkness he's just a statue-like body with hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. I place a hand on his shoulder.

"Ty—" I cut myself off immediately and yank my hand back when I feel something cold and wet. "What . . . "

I angle my hand slightly and the reflecting light from the garage doors catches my palm. It's red. I look at Tyler with urgency.

"Tyler, whose blood is this? Tyler!"

I watch his Adam's apple bob as he gulps. His muscles flex tightly as he clenches his hands over the steering wheel. I hear him breathe out a long sigh through his nose, and his mouth tilts up into a smirk that turns into a breathless laugh. His face falls just as fast as it lifted.

"It's not just mine," Tyler says.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It's a bit of mine, a bit of Ryan's, a drop of Chris's and maybe a fleck of Oscar's," Tyler answers in that eerily calm way that makes a violent shiver shake my body.

"Was it a match?" I ask.

Tyler chokes out a laugh that surprises me so much that I actually flinch.

"No," he says. "It was a fight. A fight like the good old days. The fights I don't get paid for."