All of a sudden, music poured out of the speakers and commotion went off around us. People laughed and hooted, and I trained my ears, trying to figure out what was happening.
Was that seriously a Bobby Brown song?
“Oh, my God,” someone said and laughed.
“What?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
“Will Grayson is dancing,” Rika answered, sounding like she was embarrassed for him. “Oh, my God, he’s on a table.”
Everyone in our area broke into laughter, and whatever he was doing must’ve been entertaining.
“My Prerogative” blared, and I couldn’t help but smile and bob my head a little bit. It was a fun choice of music. I’d probably like Will.
“Such a lover, not a fighter,” someone said.
“He’s so hot,” Claudia added.
“If you ever fall for one of them, make it Will or Kai, got it?” Noah said over the table, and I guessed it was to me. “They’ll at least hold you for ten seconds after it’s over.”
I let out a nervous laugh and picked at my food. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t like any of them, after all.
“Guys, be quiet,” Rika said and then to me, “They’re just joking with you.”
Got it. And no worries. I’d steer clear of spoiled seniors. Although, I wondered what my ghost would do if someone liked me. Would he care? Would he know? He could be in the room right now? Hell, he could be Noah.
But I got rid of that notion. I’d held Noah’s arm on the way to Music Appreciation. It wasn’t like his body. Not as tall, not as strong. My insides didn’t do pirouettes when I touched him.
As the music played, though, and everyone was lost in the distraction of Will Grayson’s exhibition, everything started to fade way—the laughter, music, and noise becoming distant as it fell to the background and echoed from somewhere far away.
I wanted to feel him again.
I felt him again. Like I was in his lap, driving. Or huddled behind him, warm but freezing in the night air on the motorcycle. Or wrapped tightly in his arms, hidden in a closet, a world within a world.
I wished he was close. I wished he was watching me. Always watching me. I tucked my hair behind my ear, turning my head toward the direction where I would imagine he was, and reveled in the feeling of his eyes being on me.
“Are you okay?” Rika asked.
The music cut off, and I heard a teacher scolding someone—probably Will—and I nodded. “Yeah.” I dropped my plastic fork and wiped my fingers on a napkin. “When you’re done, would you mind pointing me to the library? I’m going to hang out and listen to some of the readings until class. I’ll have the librarian’s assistant help me to the next class.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m done now. Let’s go.”
We picked up our bags, tossed out our lunches, and headed for the doors. But as we went, I smiled to myself, the feeling of him still in my head and his eyes watching me, following me and never leaving me as I exited the cafeteria.
“How about right here?” Rika asked me. “It’s empty and quiet.”
I nodded, reaching the third floor of the library and feeling for the chairs nearby. I found a cushy couch instead and dropped my bag, taking a seat and digging out my phone and earbuds.
“I need to run to the office and get some fliers printed for the Math Club,” she explained. “I can swing by as soon as I’m done and get you for English.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I told her, plugging in my earbuds and relaxing into the corner of the couch. “I’ll find someone. Or…maybe I’ll go wild and find class myself.”
“Don’t do that,” she scolded.
I smiled, half-joking and half not. English One was the first door across the hall from the stairwell upstairs, and the stairwell was right outside the library to the left. I was sure I could make it. And after driving an actual car last night, I kind of wanted to try. It would be the extent of my fun for the day.
But I put her at ease anyway, knowing she still felt guilty about me getting shoved into the locker room. “I’m kidding,” I told her. “I’ll be fine. Someone will help me. I promise.”
“Okay,” she acquiesced. “I’ll see you in class.”
I gave a little wave and stuck in my earbuds, starting the audiobook chapter on Native American tribes and early colonization. I made sure not to put the volume too high, though, so I could hear the first bell alerting me that lunch was over, and I had five minutes to get to class.
I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and listened to the woman’s voice go over tribes of eastern America and Canada and trade with European settlers. Out of all the audiobooks for my classes, I enjoyed this one the most. Her voice was sweet and soft with lots of inflection like she was telling a bedtime story.
Except for Algebra, which was always hard and I had little care for, since I knew I wouldn’t have a career where it would be useful, all my classes were going surprisingly well. My teachers were helpful, and it was getting less awkward to have conversations with them and be open about what I needed. I mean, schools accommodated for learning disabilities, poverty, illness, and severe behavioral problems. By comparison, I couldn’t be that great of a burden, right?
My parents—and Arion—had really done a number on me. While it was the psycho-stalker-sicko who made me smile and gave me confidence. Go figure.
Life was weird.
I needed to ask him questions when I met him again. If I met him again. He wouldn’t answer just because I wanted him to, though. I’d have to pry it out of him, like dancing the entire Nutcracker Suite in exchange for his frickin’ name.
I snorted but quickly got rid of my smile just in case anyone was watching me and wondered what my deal was.
And then I noticed it. A sound piercing the air, loud and cutting the quiet with a sharp ring that made me wince.
“What the hell?” I said to myself.
I yanked out my earbuds, finally realizing what it must be.
Was that…?
A fire alarm sliced into my ears like nails across a chalkboard tenfold, and I sat up, trying to listen for voices to hear if this was real or a drill or what.
“Don’t run!” the librarian, I would assume, called out. “Walk and exit the building like you’ve been taught.” And then a shout. “No running!”
“Wait,” I said, clutching my phone and gathering up my backpack. “Wait!”
I knew how to get to the stairwell, but I wasn’t sure about the exit. It was one floor down, but after that, I thought it was down the hall and to the right at the end of the lockers? Maybe?
I heard the heavy library doors open and close repeatedly, and I yelled, “Wait!”
Hugging my backpack to me, I grabbed hold of the railing and barreled down the stairs as fast as I could, but the earbud cord dangling from my phone caught under my step, and it was yanked out of my hand, pummeling to the end of the first landing. It tumbled off somewhere, and I fell to my knees, dropping my bag as I pawed the ceramic tile, trying to look for it.
There wasn’t a real fire, right? It was just a drill.
Waving my hands all over, I found the cord and yanked it to me, but the phone wasn’t attached anymore. I slammed my palm onto my thigh in frustration. “Dammit.”
Screw it. It was replaceable, and if anyone found it, it had a lock code, so they couldn’t get in.
I left my shit on the floor and made my way down the rest of the stairs, the alarm still blaringly loud.
But I didn’t hear anything else. There were no voices, no movement, no doors being slammed… Was everyone already gone?
My heart started to thump harder. What do I do? Shit!
Half the school was in the lunchroom. They would’ve just gotten out through the exit in there. The rest of the school—everyone in classes or the auditorium—wouldn’t be gone yet. Right?
“Hello?” I called out.
I waved my hands in front of me, trying to veer in the direction the doors were in, but I walked right into something ha
rd and hissed at the pain in my shin. I grabbed hold of a wooden chair that had been left untucked from the table in the rush to get out.
My hands finally found the wall, and I scaled them down until I found the doors that led into the rest of the school. Opening one, I stepped through.
“Hello!” I shouted again. “Can someone help me? I don’t know my way out!”
The alarm pinged again and again down the hallway, and I inhaled through my nose, smelling smoke.
No. I paused. Not smoke.
It was a cigarette.
Had someone been smoking in the school?
But then my face fell as I breathed in the faint scent that reminded me of the last time I smelled that.
My heart started to race, and not in a good way.
Finding the stairwell, I descended one flight and found my way through the entrance to the main floor.
“Hey!” I called out again. “Anyone?”
I inched to the right side of the hall, the locker doors clanking against their frames as I moved from one to the other.
Even if it was a real fire, firefighters would be here soon. I couldn’t be completely alone.
“Hello?” I demanded. “Hello! Anybody there? I need help!”
I followed the path of the lockers, trailing down the right side of the hallway. When I came to the end, I rounded the corner and pawed the wall until another row of lockers began.
Okay, okay, okay… If I followed this, and kept going straight, it should lead me to the doors leading to the front of the school.
“Hello?” I called again.
My hands shook.
I should’ve told Rika to come back for me. Why was I so stubborn? Even if she was forced to exit the building by the teachers, she would’ve known to tell them that I was in the library waiting for her, and they would’ve sent someone to get me.
“Hello?”
Then, all of a sudden, there was a pounding on the lockers ahead.
I paused for a split-second, listening.
“Hey,” I said to whoever was down there. “Can you help me? Is everyone outside? Can you help me get out?”
But there was no answer.
The sound happened again. Bang, bang, bang… on the lockers, and I narrowed my eyes, confused.
“Can you help me?” I shot out, trailing down the lockers faster. “Please, can you…”
My hands landed on a tall body with a broad chest in a collared shirt, and I jerked back.
It was a man, but I thought I felt a tie hanging around his neck. A student?
“Is there a fire?” I asked him. “What’s going on?”
But whoever it was didn’t say anything. Were we the only ones in the building?
I opened my mouth to speak, but his hand came up, tucking my hair behind my ear.
There was no way I’d be the victim of two weird guys in such a short time.
I cocked my head. “Is that you?” I demanded.
My ghost who liked to scare me?
I lost my patience. “So help me God, I’m going to—”
He slipped his arms underneath mine, wrapping them around me, and picked me up off my feet.
“Going to what?” he asked.
And I stopped breathing. It wasn’t the whisper I was used to hearing but the deep, loaded, and menacing tone I never wanted to be alone with again.
Ever.
I gulped, feeling Damon’s arms tighten around me. “You’re not him.”
“Him who?”
“L—Let me go,” I stammered but didn’t have time to scream.
He whipped us around, carrying me away, and I pushed at his body to get away.
A door opened, then closed, and I was forced back into the room, my combat boot hitting something on wheels. A bucket, I think. We must be in a closet.
My mind raced. The bucket would have a mop. That was a weapon.
“You did this?” I asked, realization finally hitting me. The alarm. He and I alone in the school. Did he see Rika leave me alone in the library?
“What do you want?” I yelled and then shouted at the top of my lungs, “Help!” I sucked in another breath. “Help!”
His hand found my throat, and I was pinned to the wall. I grabbed his wrist, fighting to pull it off.
“What do you want?” I struggled to speak, rage coursing through my veins.
His body came in close as he spoke down to me. “Are you scared?”
I shifted on my feet, struggling with his hand on my neck. “No,” I gritted out.
“Liar.”
“Fuck you!” I fired back. “Let me out!”
I kicked at his leg, but he didn’t budge. I kicked him again, harder, and twisted my body out of his grasp, finally feeling him lose his hold. I ran for it, but he grabbed hold of my necktie and yanked me back to him.
My body slammed into his. “Let me out!” I screamed again. “My sister is ready for you. Always ready for you. Why don’t you bring her in here?”
He picked me up again, this time wrapping his arms around me like a steel band, my arms pinned to my body under his tight hold.
“Why bother with her when there’s you?” he taunted. “I like you.”
I shook my head at him. He was horrible. And disgusting and sick, and I hated that I had his attention. I wished he’d never laid eyes on me. Was this it then? Was he going to hurt me again? It wouldn’t be like last time. I was old enough to know how men hurt women now.
“You know, a lot of girls would love to be in your position right now,” he told me.
“Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t almost kill them once upon a time.”
“Do you want me to apologize?”
I hesitated, because his tone actually gave the impression he would apologize if I asked him to. “No,” I finally answered.
“Why?”
“Because I won’t forgive you anyway,” I said.
No need to waste your time.
He held me, his chest moving with mine, and I could feel his eyes on my face. He didn’t speak for several seconds.
When he did, it sounded almost sad. “Winter…”
But whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t finish, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to spend another six years recovering from anything he did to me. Another scratch, and I’d kill him to make sure he never touched me again.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll hurt you?” he asked, his tone threatening again.
I replied calmly. “No.”
“Why?”
“Because black.”
“Black?” he pressed.
I inched in, getting in his face. “Because I’m in the black right now, and here… I think I enjoy myself,” I said, remembering last night and the freedom of risking and fighting and meeting your match. I wanted that life. “The only part of me anyone can ever hurt is my heart, and there’s no one on the planet my heart is more out of reach from than you,” I growled.
He jostled me in his arms, and I could hear him breathing through his teeth.
“Big words for such a little girl,” he said.
“Same old, same old, from the same, scared little boy,” I shot back. “Still climbing into fountains to hide from Mommy?”
“Mommy?” he repeated. “I killed that bitch last night.”
I faltered, unnerved he would say something so odd. Of course, he was just talking shit. I’d heard his mother, Madame Delova, left Thunder Bay a few years ago and never returned.
What the hell was the matter with him? Did he want my father putting a restraining order on him? I hated Damon Torrance, but even I didn’t want that. It would just make my parents worry to learn I was having problems with him at school, and Thunder Bay would be like being in a frying pan if I got one of the school’s star players in trouble. Everyone would see it as my fault.
“Let me go,” I told him. “Let me go or I’ll bite.”
“Exactly what I had in mind.”
What? Why would he want me to bite him?
> “Let me go,” I said.
He didn’t budge.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Nothing.
Diving in, I sank my teeth into his jaw, hearing him let out a chuckle, and bit down harder to shut him the hell up.
Asshole.
I couldn’t reach much, given my position, otherwise I’d go for his ear and tear it off, but I clamped down on his bone, my teeth digging into the skin.
Harder. I increased the pressure. Harder.
He froze, just standing there, and when his breathing became raspy, I knew he was about to tap out and let me go. It had to hurt.
But instead of freeing me, he stuttered, “Har—Harder.”
Rage twisted my face, and I bit down as hard as I could, my teeth aching in my jaw, and I heard him pant and gasp, and then his arms fell, and I was free. I fell to the ground and pushed him away, knocking him in the nose.
He grunted and stumbled, because I heard the shuffle of buckets and brooms.
“Next time, I’ll be armed. And I’ll kill you,” I told him.
I began to walk away, and I heard his voice behind me. “You might have to.”
I stopped for a second, feeling defeated. Why? Why would I have to? Would he not stop? What did he want?
“Would you have forgiven me…” he asked, “if I’d gone over the side of the treehouse with you that day?”
I stood there, tears burning the backs of my eyes.
I didn’t know how to answer. I searched my brain. Why did that question strike me like it did? It seemed almost vulnerable. It was the first moment since I’d started school here that he hadn’t acted like an asshole.
Would I have forgiven him if he’d been hurt, too? I could’ve died that day. I could’ve been hurt a lot worse than I was now. My neck could’ve broke. I could’ve wound up in a coma for the rest of my life.
And he could’ve gone over with me and been hurt and killed, too. What would be my thoughts about him now if that had happened? Would I be more forgiving?
Maybe.
I thought about it.
Yes. I would’ve said ‘kids are kids’ and ‘bad things happen’. Children weren’t mature enough to control themselves. I would’ve tried to understand.
But even if I didn’t hate what he’d done to me all those years ago, I still hated him because of who he was now. Boys grew up. He hadn’t.
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