And we still have one more week before Christmas break starts. If this blows up in my face, I’ll have to suffer through everyone’s horrified stares for a whole week before getting to hide from them. Suddenly this whole endeavor seems like a really bad idea, especially when I spot a reporter climbing out of his news van. Waiting, I’m sure, to pounce on me despite Principal Andrew’s stringent ban on media at the school. It’s about the only helpful thing she’s done for me since my Inquest.
Milo pulls into an empty space, and asks, “Ready?”
“No.”
I’d appreciate it if he would look even a little nervous, but he has switched back into an emotionless fog. His face is completely relaxed, as he says, “Come on, let’s go.”
He’s out of the car before I can object. When he opens my door and offers me his hand, I can’t seem to tell him no. He helps me out, and we walk across the parking lot with the faint sound of the band floating on the air around us. As we reach the doors, we both stop. This was all Milo’s idea from the start, but he hesitates at the door. My hope rises that maybe he’ll just take me home. It crashes down to my toes a second later when he pulls the door open.
Music blares around us. People are swarming around the room, dancing, eating, and talking—well, screaming—over the music, and in general paying no attention to us at all. Okay, maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought. I spot Guardians ringing the room a second later and feel my heart try to jump out of my body.
“There are too many witnesses for them to try something,” Milo reminds me. “They’re probably here to protect everyone from you, anyway.”
“Thanks,” I say drily.
Milo ignores my sarcasm and pulls me in close behind him so we can squeeze between people. We start making his way through the crowd toward the tables, but I keep my eye on the Guardians. Their eyes follow me as well, but none of them make a move toward me. I try to put them out of my mind for the time being and keep a hold on Milo.
I can almost see a break in the sea of teenagers when I hear his voice.
“Milo? What the hell are you doing here?” Lance demands.
The sound of his voice ratchets up my paranoia again. Will the Guardians do anything if Lance comes after me again?
I would have been happy staying behind Milo’s back for this, but he moves to the side so everyone can see me, and says, “I’m here with my date. What do you care?”
Something incredibly rude and childish should have popped out of Lance’s mouth after what Milo just said, but he only blinks. At me.
“Libby?” he asks.
I hate him. I detest him. That’s what I tell myself, but the anguish in his face and voice strikes me deeply. I don’t understand why he’s so upset about seeing me with Milo. We pretty much spend every spare minute together at school where everyone can see us. He takes a step forward, but Milo blocks him. I’m fine with that until Lance gestures at my hair. And then I understand. This doesn’t have anything to do with Guardian plots.
My death grip on Milo loosens. He looks down at me in concern. I squeeze his hand lightly before letting go and stepping closer to Lance.
“You curled your hair,” Lance says, his voice grating and sad.
I nod.
“But you never curl your hair. You said you’d never curl it again,” he says. “Why?”
“Because he asked me to,” I say.
Lance frowns and grabs my hand. He pulls me closer so only I can hear his words. I’m too shocked to pull back like I should. Even with his grip being tight and angry, Lance holding my hand feels so familiar it makes my heart ache. I have a hard time meeting his eyes. When I do, the frustration in them startles me.
“I asked you. I asked you dozens of times to curl you hair. Why did you do it for him and not me? You’ve only known Milo for a couple months. I love you, Libby. Why didn’t you ever do this for me?”
I love you, Libby. His words echo around in my head. I want to believe him so badly. Long before Lance was my boyfriend, he was my best friend. We have loved each other our whole lives in one way or another. He couldn’t really have forgotten that so easily, could he? I know I haven’t no matter how much I wish I could.
I feel my feet take a step closer to him. Maybe if we actually sat down and talked about what happened, I could figure out what has been real and what hasn’t with him. The force of Milo’s anger bursting out of his careful shield makes me hesitate.
Testing Lance’s reaction, I say, “You loved me, Lance. Past tense. And before…I’m not even sure about that anymore.”
Lance’s eyes widen. “You’re doubting that I ever loved you?”
How can I not? “If you really loved me before my Inquest, you wouldn’t have turned on me afterward. Maybe I knew deep down what you would do all along. Maybe that’s why I’m willing to break my own rules for Milo when I wasn’t for you.”
“You know that’s not true,” he says. The pleading in his voice kills me. “I never…”
When he doesn’t continue, I can’t stop myself from asking. “You never what?”
Lance’s eyes dart around to his friends who are all now watching him with great interest. Under their gazes, his stance hardens. Frustration ten times worse than before saturates the air around him. “I never wanted things to happen the way they did.”
That wasn’t what he was going to say a second ago. I know him too well not to see that he’s hedging. The people surrounding him are the reason for it. He won’t be honest with me because too many influential eyes are watching him. I can feel my anger being renewed despite the begging expression he’s wearing. I pull my hand out of his grip and shake my head at him.
“If you didn’t want everything to happen like it has, then you shouldn’t have let it. You’re the biggest reason the whole school hates me. If not for you, they would have forgotten about me after the initial Guardian blow-up.”
“That’s not fair, Libby. I can’t help how things are now,” Lance argues.
My hand finds the pucker of scarred flesh on my neck. He knows what I feel. His eyes darken and cringe. “Don’t talk to me about fair, Lance,” I say in anger.
I turn away in disgust. Lance grabs my arm, his Strength making it impossible to get away from him without ruining all my hard work. I can feel Milo bristle next to me. He’s seconds away from punching Lance in the face regardless of the consequences. Coming here wasn't just a bad idea, it was a disastrous one.
“Lance,” I say through my teeth, “get your hand off of me, right now.”
“You can’t just walk away from me like this, Libby,” he says.
I frown, feeling hot tears building behind my eyelids. “You walked away from me, remember? Right after you tried to slit my throat.”
His hand slips from my arm as his guilt forces him back a step. Milo takes me under his arm and leads me away. I don’t let myself look back. Nobody else is brave enough to speak to us before we reach the dance floor. They leave a pretty wide circle around us, actually. As always, Milo knows exactly what to do to make me feel better. He presses me up against his chest, and we start swaying to the music.
Every ounce of my focus goes to quelling the tears I refuse to let fall. How could I think even for a moment of forgiving Lance? The answer that pops up inside my head scares me. I considered it because I want to forgive Lance. I miss him. I miss my best friend. But how can I ever trust him again when he won’t be honest with me just because a few jocks with powerful daddies are listening in? I wanted him so badly to say, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t.
“Are you okay?” Milo asks.
“I hate him.”
His chest rumbles against mine as he laughs. “Good for you,” he says.
I look back up at him. “Really?”
“What?” he asks. “Did you expect me to tell you that you should forgive him? He’s your ex-boyfriend, Libby. I don’t want to see you get back together with him. In fact, I was kind of hoping…”
>
A crash from across the room cuts through the music. Everyone on the dance floor turns toward the sound. Nobody’s dancing anymore. My feet refuse to keep moving as well. Several chairs lay overturned at Lance and Angus’s feet. I have no idea what started their argument, but the hideous expressions on their faces are steeped in barely controlled rage. As everyone else sees the cause of the disturbance their glares fasten on me as they take several steps in whatever direction will get them further away from me. The Guardians visibly tense, but for once I’m not the focus of their attention.
With a frustrated snap of my head, I turn away from gawkers and Guardians alike and look back at Lance and Angus. Whatever happened between them, it isn’t over yet. It’s just getting started.
I can only hear bits and pieces of their yelling match over the music, but I’m sure I hear my name several times. So does everyone else. I start to worry that someone other than the Guardians might take a stab at me. Virtually helpless because of my deal with Howe, I press against Milo more tightly.
Angus points an accusing finger at Lance during an exceptionally nasty remark, which Lance promptly slaps away. Lance has always been the strongest. Angus’s arm flies backward, wrenching his arm painfully. Grimacing, but refusing to let his pain show, Angus grabs Lance’s shirt and yanks him close to his face. To everyone else, Lance looks outwardly calm, like his so-called friend’s harassment doesn’t bother him in the least.
I know better. Lance’s expressionless mask is a defense mechanism. He only ever pulls it out when he’s close to his breaking point. Maybe I should do something, since I’m almost sure this fight has something to do with me, but all I can do is stand there and stare.
Faint whispers float by my ears. People are wondering if this has something to do with Guardians choosing sides. Some say Lance is with Howe, others say Lazaro because of what he did to me. It’s pretty much unanimous that Angus is on Lazaro’s side, which provokes more whispers, guesses about why two Lazaro followers would be fighting. More than once I hear someone ask if the Guardians in the room are going to put a stop to this. I wonder, too. Maybe they are waiting to see if I do anything before they step in.
I know I’m stronger than Angus, better than him in pretty much every way, but when his furious gaze suddenly shifts from Lance to me, I shiver. The area around me suddenly gets even emptier. Angus stares at me with hatred in his eyes. It is pure and about to boil over. The faint idea that he might come after me flitters around in my head but disappears suddenly when he thrusts Lance back from him and walks away. Lance isn’t so lucky. He stumbles over a fallen chair hard, and rolls unceremoniously to the ground. He’s back up a second later, but not without a trickle of blood running down his chin. His eyes fall on me as well, glaring and hard.
Destroyer or not, I press my back into Milo and will his warmth to surround me. It doesn’t work. Finally, Lance breaks eye contact with me and stalks out of the gym. All eyes turn to glare at me accusingly. I don’t feel like dancing anymore. Milo seems to read my mind.
“Do you want to leave?”
I nod, not trusting my voice right now. Milo wraps his arm around my shoulder and guides me from the dance floor. We reach the doors to the parking lot without anyone coming within ten feet of us. They all know I was the source of the disturbance a few minutes ago. No one wants to get tangled up with that. Fine by me. Milo pulls open the door and we’re greeted by a blast of snow. Startled, I jump out of the freezing wind in surprise.
“Wow, it’s really coming down out there,” Milo says. He looks over at me with my arms wrapped around my body as they try to keep the cold away. “Wait here. I’ll go get the car.”
“Thanks.”
He almost leaves before reconsidering. “What about the Guardians? I don’t want to leave you alone. Maybe you should just come with me.”
I shake my head. We parked at the back of the parking lot. I’d rather take my chances with the Guardians after the night I’ve had than risk turning into an icicle. Trashing a few Guardians could be exactly what I need right now. “No witnesses can be a good thing, Milo. No one will know what happened to them if they just disappear.”
A grin that’s almost scary lights Milo’s features. We’ve been training a lot. After the Guardian at the mall, I made sure I knew how to get rid of a body should I ever need to go that far. Threats won’t work on everyone.
“I’ll be right back. Two minutes tops,” Milo says.
He dashes out into the storm and disappears behind a wall of snow. Normally I would be captivated by the treat of a real snowstorm, but not tonight.
A noise from behind makes spins me around. I’m shocked to find Lance emerging from a dark hall. He stops several feet away and watches me. I knew coming here tonight was a bad idea. I don’t think I’m up for another confusing confrontation with him right now.
“What do you want?” I ask. If he’s going to try to kill me again, it isn’t going to end well for him. I could never actually kill Lance, but I’d definitely make him sorry for the attempt. I search his emotions and thoughts, relived when I find no malice, but I’m still not thrilled to see him again.
“Why are you hanging out with Milo?”
The question surprises me. I was expecting something harsher. Another wave of confusion threatens to give me a migraine. “That’s none of your business,” I say. “What I do is none of your concern anymore, so leave me alone.”
Lance’s jaw tightens visibly. “There’s something not right about him, Libby. You should get away from him before he hurts you.”
“Oh, now you’re warning me? That’s just great, Lance. You’re the last person in the world who should be giving me advice about friends right now, since you turned all of mine against me and you’re obviously too afraid of what yours think to say what’s really on your mind. Is that what you and Angus were arguing about? What you were really going to say to me? Or were you just yelling like lunatics about my social life” I ask sarcastically. “I’d think you had better things to do.”
“I don’t give a damn about what Angus thinks, not anymore, but I’m serious about Milo.”
“What do you mean, not anymore?” I ask, honestly curious. Did that fight change something?
Hanging his head, Lance leans against the wall. “If you could name my worst quality, what would it be?”
“You care too much about what other people think of you,” I say without having to think too hard. Since we were kids his pride has always been his biggest fault. It’s gotten him into more fights than I can remember, and made him make a stupid choice more than once.
“You’ve told me that before, but I never agreed with you until tonight.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Shaking his head, Lance says, “It doesn’t matter. You won’t believe me anyway.”
“You won’t even give me the chance?” Can’t he see that I want to believe he hasn’t become this horrible monster I’m forced to hate? I want him to tell me this has all been a big misunderstanding.
“It’s obviously too late,” Lance says, gesturing at my hair. The sight of my curls sets him on edge again. “Hate me if you have too, Libby, but you have to listen to me about Milo. You shouldn’t be hanging around with him. He’s dangerous.”
“What are you talking about?”
Lance opens his mouth but closes it again right away. His internal struggle rages through his features, but finally he says, “I can’t explain it, Libby, but something about him isn’t right. You have to trust me on this.”
Trust him? Maybe if he trusted me enough to explain I could.
I yank the door open regardless of the snow. The cold scours me, focuses me enough to think before I do something stupid like giving in to the desperation pouring off him. Before stepping out into the storm, I look over my shoulder, and say, “Your word about Milo being dangerous would have been enough once, but not anymore. Not if you aren’t willing to trust me back.”
Lance’s frown tigh
tens, but he doesn’t argue with me.
“Besides,” I say, “he can’t be any more dangerous of a friend than you turned out to be.”
Chapter 18
Irrational
I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until Milo wakes me with a gentle whisper. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, we’re home.”
I yawn and open my eyes. “You say that like you live here, too.” We’re home. He has yet to talk me into letting him stay over. I have no doubts that he’s thinking of my safety—well, almost no doubts—but I also know that I would have a very hard time asking him to sleep on the floor. I have a hard enough time watching him leave every night. Tonight will be even worse. Having Celia with us this past week has made it a little easier. Milo’s parents may forget he exists, but Celia has a ten o’clock curfew.
Milo shrugs, a hint of a smile ruining his nonchalance. “I practically do. The only time I see my own house is to sleep.”
“And that’s how it’s going to stay, right?” I say.
He just smiles and gets out of the car. I wait patiently for him to open my door and take his hand. We walk to the door together. Milo already has his keys in hand and opens the door. I honestly didn’t even reach for my own keys. He doesn’t live here, my foot. It’s more like this is his home and his real house is the hotel he stops in at every night for the fun of it. This is hardly lost on Milo. His chuckle says, “I told you so,” just as much as words could.
I brush past him with my nose in the air just for spite. I’m to the bed before I realize Milo isn’t following me. Turning back to the door, his dark shape is outlined in silver by the light of the street lamps outside. For a moment his appearance seems sinister, and Lance’s warning comes back to mind.
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