To the Steadfast Read Online Free PDF

but he doesn’t move. Mischa can hold his own, but I don’t want
him getting in trouble for hurting Aaron.
    Aaron grabs my
ponytail, jerking my head backward, and throws me to the ground. I cry out as I
land in the gravel, rocks scraping my hands and elbow. It takes a few seconds
for me to gather my bearings, but when I turn around. Aaron is on the ground
with Violet standing over him. She lifts her hand over her shoulder for a
triumphant high five from Mischa. A crowd has gathered, and a few people grab
me under the arms and pull me up. My knees wobble as I attempt to steady
myself.
    “Thanks,” I mumble,
wiping myself off. I wince when my hands touch the back of my pants and notice
huge scrapes embedded with gravel on the palm of my right hand.
    “Ouch,” Violet says, grabbing
my hand to assess the damage.
    “It’s nothing.” I pull away;
I don’t want to be touched right now. Not after being attacked by a guy twice
my size. “I’ll clean it up when I get home.” I bite my tongue to dull the pain and
try my best to put on a strong face. “Thanks for hitting him.”
    “What are friends for?”
    I take a step but my
knees give out and I fall on Violet’s shoulder.
    “You can’t drive.
You’re too upset.” Violet motions at Mischa who is a few feet away talking to a
group of girls. “Come drive Cody home.”
    “And he isn’t too
upset?” I hiss, ignoring her and walking towards my car. Mischa steps in line
beside me. There’s a worry line across his forehead, but he seems calmer than
before.
    “Thanks for saving me
back there, but just so you know. I can take care of myself,” I tell him.
    “Still, I would have
kicked Mr. Wonderful’s butt for you.”
    Wiping away a stray
tear, I lean against my BMW and kick a random clump of dirt on the ground.
“He’s been pressuring me to have sex with him for a few weeks now. I just
didn’t want my first time to be with someone like him.”
    “First time?” Mischa’s
jaw drops then turns into a cocky grin. “Wow, I mean. I didn’t think...”
    I glare up at him, my
eyes turning into dangerous crescent shapes. “Shut up.”
    His hand grazes the
side of my cheek. “You’ve got some dirt here.”
    I hold my breath as he
wipes it away. The way he’s looking at me, the hungry gaze, it makes me weak in
the knees. This is what he does to me, all the time.
    “You’re right,” he
continues. “Your first time should be with someone you care about, not some
jerk your father likes.”
    As our moment gets a
little too heated, I shove the keys against his chest and walk around to the
passenger side. “You can drive. I’ve had way too much to drink.”
    I get inside, knowing
that Mischa hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. He doesn’t drink at parties, only
because he starts acting like his father when he does. After a few too many
violent drunken fights, Violet made him our eternal designated driver.
    Everything inside me
knows I shouldn’t take Mischa home. As we drive away, there’s this unspoken
sexual tension in the air. We both know where this is headed, but we don’t have
to say it. Speaking the words might taint this. Those butterflies begin to
flutter up in my stomach, the ones that make you feel like you’re on a roller
coaster, and the high calms me.
    I live on the outskirts
of Betty, just by the highway. It’s a nice home, filled with nice things and
void of love. He pulls up to the front gates, puts in the code as I tell it to him
and drives on.
    As we get out, Mischa
races me to the door and lets out a low whistle as we enter.
    “Nice place.” He runs
his finger along one of the gaudy abstract statues that line the entryway.
    “It’s home. I guess.”
    Sometimes I forget how
different our upbringings were. Mischa and Violet have lived in the same run-down
house their entire lives, barely making ends meet. I have lovely things,
but not so lovely parents. Besides our sporadic family dinners, they live
separate lives. My father thinks he