Chapter Text
As absurd as it would sound for anyone outside their circle, Kavinsky had been a lifeline for his little pack or outcasts. They had flocked one by one to Kavinsky like flies to shit, as he would put it, simply because of this: they were unwanted. And for once, Kavinsky wasn’t lacking in this aspect. He always wanted too much and he would demand it shamelessly from them.
Kaja Skov was a late addition, but one Kavinsky was very fond of, in spite of himself. He’d found her at one of his house parties taking a hot bath while fully dressed, her brown locks of hair reminiscent of tentacles as she tilted her head from side to side. He’d only come in to take a piss, but found himself transfixed by the ripples. It took a while to notice the water turning red from her wrists.
She never asked Kavinsky why he pulled her out and wrapped her wrists in the shredded ribbons of his t-shirt. It always felt like asking too much of him to acknowledge it. She showed up a couple days later to Kavinsky’s house with beaded bracelets covering her bandages and found him passed out on the living room floor. She kicked at him until he grabbed her leg and pulled her down. Kaja landed half on top of him.
“The fuck you doin’ here?” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.
“I want you to teach me to race,” she said, slowly and clearly, so the words would cut through the fog in his head.
Kavinsky pushed her off him and sat up, stared at her for a minute or so. Then he laughed, loud and uncontrolled. “Do you have a car?” Kaja said no. “Do you even know how to drive?” The answer was also no.
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. He clapped his hands once and said “So. What the fuck do I call you?”
Kavinsky always called her Skov.
*
She wasn’t technically of age to drive, and starting out on a Mazda RX-7 was definitely a disaster waiting to happen, but if K thought she could do it, she would fucking do it. He was a terrible teacher, short-tempered and much more interested in going fast than going straight. But the others helped too. Prokopenko was silly and lighthearted and put her at ease. They made fun of one another, him of her driving skills, Kaja of his goofy ears and accent.
Swan seemed wary of her at first. She thought it must be her age, or her cheap clothes and living on her grandma’s pension and going to a public school, unlike the boys who all seemed so careless with their money and cars and parties. She wanted so badly to belong. It threw her off balance when Swan took her aside one night while the boys were trying out Proko’s newest booze and pills cocktails.
“You sure you wanna be runnin’ with a rotten crowd like us?” Swan had a deep, rasping voice and gentle brown eyes, a shade as warm as his skin. His palm felt heavy on her scraped knee. Suddenly, she felt so small.
Tears burned furiously in her eyes. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll fucking go.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He lifted his hand and wiped away one treacherous tear off her cheek.
Kaja closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “I have nothing else.”
“Okay. Okay.” Swan held her until Kavinsky barged in and demanded they come join the party.
“You ladies gonna braid each other’s hair or do you want to get wasted?”
Kaja stood up and punched Kavinsky in the shoulder. Jiang had started teaching her how to fight.
“Can’t last a minute without us?”
“Shut it, squirt.” Kavinsky pulled her in and smacked a kiss on her forehead. “Now, do I have to start paying you cash to play some fucking songs or will my good looks do?”
“Get me a drink, you asshole.” Kaja laughed and pushed him away. As she made her way to the sound system, hands already itching to play with some beats, a feeling like peace washed over her. Well, not quite peace. Just the sense of being in the right place.
The switchblade Jiang had given Skov sat in the back pocket of her shorts, a reminder that nothing would keep her here and she could break free at any time.