by J. L. Beck
“How do you feel?” The young woman steps closer, her eyes examining my face.
“Dead,” I joke. Then I add, “Like I got hit by a truck.”
The woman nods but doesn’t reply. I peer over at Quinton as I can feel his eyes on me. The way he’s looking at me—like I died and came back to life—makes my skin crawl. I do not want to be the center of his attention, not now or ever.
The nurse busies herself checking my heartbeat and temperature, then asking me to follow her pen with my eyes. I do as she asks, and when she hands me a paper cup with water in it, I swallow it down, letting the cool liquid coat my throat.
“Now can you tell me what happened, and where I am?” I ask once she takes a step back and seems to be happy with her findings.
“You’re in the school emergency room, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but you have a lot of explaining to do.”
My brows furrow in confusion, and I look at Quinton, whose face is still and void of all emotions, giving nothing away.
“I don’t understand. I don’t know how I got here or what you’re talking about.” My head is pounding. I’m confused, and all I want to do is fall back asleep.
“He brought you here.” The nurse or doctor, whoever she is, hooks her thumb in the direction of Quinton. He must’ve taken a trip to my room only to find me half-dead on the ground, ruining whatever plan of damnation he had for me.
“Now explain to me why you haven’t been eating?”
“Eating?” I almost mock.
“Yes, eating. Your blood tests revealed that you’re malnourished, have very low iron and multiple vitamin deficiencies, and most likely a bad case of food poisoning. You should be grateful that you didn’t shrivel up and die.”
Well, that explains a lot of things. I lift my hand and notice the IV in my arm, clear liquids pump into my body, and the significance of the situation starts to weigh heavily on my shoulders. Why you haven’t been eating? Her question repeats back in my mind, and I can feel her gaze narrowing further, burning into my skin.
She’s waiting for an answer, and I’m almost ashamed to tell her… almost.
“None of this is my fault. The cafeteria staff won’t give me any food, and—” Quinton interjects before I can continue.
“She has an eating disorder. She’s just lying to cover it up. She’s super ashamed of it and doesn’t want to admit she has a problem.”
In an instant, I’m red hot with anger. I don’t have a fucking eating disorder, and I tell him this with a glare. He returns the glare, his jaw clenched, his icy gaze burning into my eyes.
The woman’s gaze ping-pongs between us, and I have to wonder if she will really believe him. I swear to God if she agrees with him…
She nods, and her gaze softens a smidge. “That’s not all that unusual for a girl of your age.” Looking from Quinton and back to me, she says, “We’ll get you nursed back to health, and then you really need to consider some form of therapy. You could’ve died… I really hope you understand that.” I want to tell her she is wrong, but there’s no way I’m going to, not with Quinton in the room.
“I’ve got some paperwork to do, so I’ll be back in a few minutes with another bag of fluids. You lie back and rest.” She pats my leg, and I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. I’m very close to exploding on Quinton.
As soon as she walks out of the room and the door closes behind her, I’m ready to lurch across the room. “What the hell? I don’t have an eating disorder, and we both know it.”
His jaw clenches tighter, and he speaks through his teeth. “Will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?”
“I have no reason to keep my mouth shut,” I growl. “In fact, keeping my mouth shut is the reason I’m here in the first place. Had I spoken up sooner about not getting adequate meals, maybe I wouldn’t be here, half-dead to the world.”
Arguing is making my head hurt, and I lie back on the cot and close my eyes, cutting off whatever connection we held looking at each other.
“A thank you is sufficient enough. There is no need for you to throw a hissy fit. You’re already a snitch in the eyes of every single student and staff member here. Now you snitch on the cafeteria staff by telling the doctor you aren’t being given food?”
“It’s not a lie.”
“It’s a snitch move. Keep your mouth shut. It’s your biggest downfall.” The sound of the chair scraping against the tile floor forces me to drag my eyes open again, and I see Quinton pushing out of the chair.
“Where are you going?” I ask, trying not to sound like I care. He’s obviously been here a while, and I’m fine now, so what does it matter if he leaves?
“If you must know, I’m going back to my room to sleep for a few hours. I’ve been here for hours making sure your ass didn’t die on me before I can get my full use out of you. I have class in a few hours, and I haven’t slept a wink.”
All I can do is roll my eyes.
“Of course, all you care about is my usefulness to you.”
“Shut up and go to sleep before I put you to sleep.”
“You don’t have to be so aggressive.”
“Go to sleep, Aspen,” he orders, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
I watch him walk to the door and then snap my eyes closed, pretending like I don’t give a shit what he does. Really, I don’t. I just don’t like how dismissive he is of me or the fact that the cafeteria is the reason I’m currently hospitalized. I’m not a snitch for speaking the truth, and I didn’t do this to myself, which is what he wants the doctor to believe.
Silence settles around me, and I stay in a temporary state between half asleep and half awake, every little sound startling me. I’m feeling a lot better, which is all that matters to me at this point. I’m not sure how much time has passed or when I finally fall asleep, but the next time I open my eyes, I find Brittney sitting in the spot where Quinton was the first time I woke up.
“Hey, you!” she greets, concern etched into her features.
“Hey,” I croak.
“What happened? You look like someone put you through the food processor.”
A smile tugs onto my lips. “That’s because they did. Apparently, I have food poisoning, and I’m dehydrated and lacking minerals.”
Brittney gives me a stern look. “If you want to tell me what’s going on, you can. I won’t say anything. I just don’t want you to hurt yourself or be harmed by someone else.” I get the feeling she is referring to that night in the hall, which I never fully explained to her.
“If you’re wondering if I did this to myself, the answer is no. It’s also a very complicated situation, so I’ll leave it at the cafeteria hasn’t been offering me good food, and when I say good, I don’t mean delicious.” Brittney’s nose wrinkles. “Whenever I go to get food, it’s expired or near expiration. Sometimes, there isn’t anything at all, and on those days, I don’t eat. Quinton told me to shut up when I went to tell the doctor…”
I realize all too late that I’ve said too much and press my lips together to stop the rest of the word vomit from escaping.
Adjusting her glasses, she asks, “Quinton, as in the guy who I saw you with in the corridor the night we first met?”
I nod, and part of me wants to tell her he’s not really that bad of a guy, a lot unstable and a control freak at best, but I stop myself from doing that because it seems wrong. It seems like I’m enabling his behavior, and I don’t want to do that. No matter how fucked up someone is, it doesn’t mean they can treat people however they want.
“It’s a really long story, and I’m way too exhausted to get into it, but yeah, that’s how I ended up here.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like that they aren’t giving you proper food.” Anger rises in her features, her cheeks become red, and her brows pinch together. I understand her anger all too well, but I didn’t tell her any of this because I want her sympathy or help.
“I don’t like it either,
but there isn’t much I can do about it.” I shake my head, feeling like shit for what I’m about to say. “I don’t want you to feel bad for me either or to try to help. I’ve got enough attention on me for things that are out of my control.”
“Don’t you think your health is important enough to speak up over?” she asks me calmly.
“Yes, but I’m confiding in you as a friend, not a teacher, so please don’t make this into a bigger issue than it is. I’ll talk to the cafeteria. I’ll get it fixed.”
And I will, or at least, I’ll try.
“Now I’m going to worry about you even more.” The words out of her mouth make me still. It’s been so long since I’ve heard someone say they’re worried about me or that they even care about my existence.
“Don’t worry. I’m okay. As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll be back in the library bothering you.”
She nods, looking down at her hands resting in her lap before looking back up at me. The way she’s looking at me with such a somber, open expression is more than I can take, and I dart my eyes away to look at the blanket covering me.
“If you need anything, Aspen, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m here for you, as a friend and teacher. I’ll help however I can, whenever I can.”
I don’t want to admit how much her words soothe me, how much better they make me feel because I’m afraid I might wake up and find out this has all been a dream. I mean, the vomiting and fever could all be a dream.
“Thank you, and thanks for checking on me. By the way, how did you know I was here?” I’m almost hesitant to know the answer to that question, but if the whole school knows already, then I need to prepare for when I’m released back to the dorms.
“Rumors. I heard a couple of teachers talking this morning and had to check for myself. I called down here, and the nurse told me that you were admitted but sleeping. I put off coming down so that you could sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Wow, how long have I been in and out of sleep? Obviously longer than I thought.
“Well, at least it’s only the teachers that know.”
Brittney frowns. “I don’t think it’ll be that way for long, but don’t focus on that. Focus on feeling better.”
I nod. That’s the only thing I can do right now.
I’ll deal with the fallout later. At least I’m not going to die of dehydration or anything else insane, not yet.
19
QUINTON
Even though I don’t visit her again, I keep tabs on Aspen through the doctor who helped bring her back to life. I’ve called down to medical every day, and she’s given me a brief overview of how she’s doing. It makes me feel less like an asshole for not visiting her, but I don’t have anything to prove to her. She’s nothing to me, not a girlfriend or even a friend. Just a toy that I don’t want broken yet.
The cafeteria is crowded as hell today, and by the time we make it to a table, I’m ready to toss my lunch in the trash and walk out. All the people and commotion make me feel edgy. Ren strikes up a conversation with some kid sitting across from us. His name is Sillas, and he looks like the all-American type, right down to the polo T-shirt he’s wearing.
His blond hair is cut military style, and he’s wearing khakis. Who the fuck wears khakis? I guess if his overall appearance isn’t shocking enough, his next sentence has me spitting my soda out across the table.
“I’m pretty sure my dad sent me here to become friends with other criminals. I’m a hacker, but I haven’t really done anything huge. He wants me to break outside my comfort zone and get into the dark stuff.”
“Hacker?” I choke on the remaining liquid in my throat.
“Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, and really it isn’t. Hackers aren’t a new thing, but it’s a big deal to me. An idea takes root in my mind, growing to life right before my eyes, and I can’t stop it.
Ren slaps a hand on my back while laughing. “You going to make it?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I lean across the table and look Sillas in the eyes. He seems like a straight shooter, but you can’t judge someone by their appearance and know they’re worth trusting. Still, I’m not afraid. My father knows that I want answers. I’m not hiding anything or doing wrong by asking someone to find information for me.
“I need you to do something for me, and while you probably don’t need it, I’ll sweeten the pot by throwing some money in too.”
Sillas’s face becomes serious in an instant, and he sheds the all-American boy image right before my eyes. “What do you need done?”
I keep my voice low as I say, “I need you to help me find someone… my mother.”
Sillas visibly gulps, and he looks like he might be sick.
“Your mother is missing? Wouldn’t your dad—”
“Ella Rossi is not my biological mother. I want you to find my birth mother,” I explain and watch as pure shock forms on his features.
“I can try. I’ll need as many details as you can give me, and then I’ll reach out to my dad.”
I shake my head. “No. I want you to do it. Don’t involve anyone else. This is between you and me. Prove yourself to me, and you won’t have a thing to worry about in this place.” I add the last little bit for effect, even if it is true. No one will mess with him here, not if he’s walking alongside me.
We finish up our lunch, and I let Sillas know that I’ll text him the details about my mother that I know. Which isn’t much of anything. On the way out of the lunchroom, Ren nudges my shoulder.
“Are you sure about this? Going behind your dad’s back?”
I stop in my tracks and pin him with a stare. “Nothing I do here is a secret, and it’s not like he doesn’t know I want answers. He refuses to give them to me, so I’ll find another way, my way.” The venom in my words must stop Ren from pushing forward with any other questions because instead of continuing the conversation, we move on to discussing Luna and how excited she is to visit Ren.
“I miss her like crazy but really wish I could spend time with her somewhere else.”
“She’s coming here when she graduates, right? Why not let her come and get a feel for the school? That way, she’s not just dropped on her ass out in the middle of nowhere like us.”
Ren shrugs. “If I’m being honest, I don’t want her to come here. I don’t want her to have anything to do with this life. I want her to go to school, get a good job, live her best life, and get married and have kids if that’s what she wants.”
I almost laugh. “You’re going to let your sister date?” I can see it now, Ren murdering so many guys our family can no longer cover it up.
“No. It will have to be an arranged marriage kind of thing. I’ve got to make sure he is perfect for her and that he’s not going to hurt her or make her cry. I mean, you’ll probably be the same with Scarlet.”
The mention of her name reminds me of how soon she will be an adult, and before long, here alongside me.
“I don’t mind Scarlet coming here because it will be safer than any other place. Plus, I can keep an eye on her here. At least until we graduate.”
Boys will be interested, and she’ll be able to make her own decisions. Decisions that could get her hurt or even killed.
The lack of control I have over the people I love terrifies me. I block out the rest of the conversation, and when we reach our dorm, it’s right as one of the maids is walking out. She moves out of the way and starts pushing her cart toward the next room.
I’m reminded of the condition that I found Aspen in and the way her bedroom looked. I know she’ll be released soon, and by making sure her room is clean, she’ll owe me an hour of her time. Stopping in front of the cart, I force the maid to stop or hit me. Thankfully, at the last moment, she looks up at me through her lashes and stops moving.
“I need you to clean Aspen Mather’s room.”
She shakes her head, her dark brown ponytail swaying. “I cannot do that. Mr. Diavolo gave us instruction
s that we’re not to clean her room. I am sorry.”
Something in me snaps, and I grip the edge of the cart with two hands, ready to toss it over my shoulder.
“I don’t care what he told you. I’m telling you to go clean her room. Now go do it, or I’ll be sure to let my father know that you tried to steal something from our room and that I caught you red-handed doing it. I imagine the wrath of my father will rival that of Mr. Diavolo.”
The young woman’s cheeks become as red as a tomato, and her gaze turns submissive. “Of course, Mr. Rossi. I will be sure to clean her room for you.”
I nod and move out of her way, allowing her to pass by without incident. I can feel Ren staring a hole through me.
“What the hell are you looking at?”
“Just trying to figure out why having Aspen’s room cleaned means so much to you?”
I don’t have to dive into the deal that Aspen and I made with each other. That’s none of his business, so I do what I do best. I put up another wall.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I hate to say it, but you’re acting weird.”
I roll my eyes. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, and I don’t like it.”
Ren and I have always been close, and while we still are, and I can trust him with anything, I don’t need to divulge all the things I do with other people, least of all, Aspen.
“Sorry, but you’re wrong, and I really don’t care what you like,” I say as we walk through the door and into the apartment. The smell of antiseptic hangs in the air. The living room is clean, and the kitchen counters are wiped down.
Ren changes the subject. “Want to have a couple of beers and maybe invite the guys over for a little bit?”
The idea of sitting through an entire evening with Matteo makes my blood boil. I don’t like the way he looks at Aspen—like she’s a piece of meat or that she belongs to him.
“Nah, I’ve got homework.”
Disappointment fills Ren’s features, making him appear more like my father than my best friend. “Whatever is in those books isn’t anything we haven’t learned. You said so yourself.” And I did, but that was before I realized Matteo was a douchebag. If he showed up here tonight, blood would be drawn, and it wouldn’t be mine.