Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
So Lana had reported him, just like she’d threatened. Relief and panic swept across Andrew’s chest.
Anger flashed across Bryce’s face, but his brow smoothed and he was all benevolent charm again.
“I can explain that. It was just a joke out of context. I made a comment about Andy going out with Thomas and they both got super defensive. Like”—he raised his hands in confused innocence—“I didn’t know it was a sensitive topic.
Good for them, honestly. I’m not homophobic or anything. ”
“No one is throwing around accusations like that,” Dr. Reul added in hastily.
Andrew could not believe this. “That’s not what happened.” But the words came out too small.
“We welcome and cherish a diverse body of students here,” the principal said. “I’m sure some unfortunate phrasing is at fault here and the mistake won’t be repeated. Will it, Mr. Kane?”
“Absolutely not,” Bryce said. “I feel terrible that I came across wrong. I’ve been in class with Andy since we were twelve. I’m fond of him. I know he’s having a tough year.”
Andrew could almost see himself peeling out of his skin, walking over to Bryce, and hitting him in the mouth. It would be like the night of the dream ravager, Andrew standing atop the table with his heart racing with horrible, wordless elation, butter knife in hand, his head full of screams.
Instead, he sat soundless, his throttling grip on his notebook leaving dents in the cover. He never had words when he needed them. He blinked hard and quick.
The principal looked relieved this was an incident to be tidied briskly and not something that required reports and phone calls to parents. “Well, that’s settled, then. How about you two shake hands and then, Bryce, you can get back to class.”
Bryce bounced from his chair and stuck out a hand toward Andrew, his smile all teeth. “Maybe you just didn’t know the forest was out-of-bounds now. Hope you don’t get in too much trouble, Andy.”
Andrew stared at the proffered hand long enough for the room to grow tense.
Dr. Reul shifted with a light cough and the principal looked weary as she rubbed a thumb against her temple.
She seemed about to command Andrew to accept the handshake, to throw this little mess under a bridge where they wouldn’t speak of it again.
It was a reminder of who this school really protected, so he quickly grabbed Bryce’s hand.
A firm shake. Release. Bryce did not stop grinning as he sauntered out the door.
After it clicked shut, Dr. Reul moved to take Bryce’s vacated chair, looking even more somber than he had before. His gray eyebrows drew together in concern.
“Before you deny anything again,” he said, “we have already had several reports from the groundskeeper about finding … disturbances in the woods.”
Monsters, monsters, monsters.
“May I have this?” Dr. Reul slid the notebook from Andrew’s hands before he could think to argue.
Loss hit him like a fist to the stomach and he stopped breathing as he stared at his empty hands. No one read his stories, no one touched them. He should have held on—why hadn’t he held on?
Dr. Reul paged through and then shared a meaningful look with the principal.
“The groundskeeper found writing on the trees,” the principal said. “Strange little stories. Then after Bryce Kane shared what he had seen with us, Dr. Reul seemed to recall you often wrote tales in a little notebook.”
It was a leap. They couldn’t pin this on him.
But all Andrew could think of was the way they could confiscate his notebook, match the handwriting, pin him to the wall with their disapproving, disgusted looks.
This belligerent, rule-breaking student.
Dr. Reul was still paging through the notebook, and Andrew’s brain felt like a fogged mirror, his stomach so seasick he thought he’d empty himself all over the floor. He knew how those stories looked.
Violent. Macabre. Wicked. Twisted.
“I’d like to know why.” Oddly, the principal had lost her sharpness and she swept an almost pitying look over Andrew. “I would think you’d have little interest in the forest now. You’ve always been such a nice, mindful student. I must admit, I’m disappointed, Andrew.”
“I’m…” But he couldn’t find any words.
The only thing he could cling to was the fact that they’d only brought in him. Not Thomas. Bryce must have seen both of them walk out of the woods, so the fact that he’d only ratted on Andrew meant he had some sort of warped plan at play.
“We’re sympathetic to what you’re going through.
” Dr. Reul took off his glasses to rub at a lens.
“But we’re concerned you’re not thriving here, Andrew.
You’ve not completed a single assignment from my class this year and, unfortunately, the other professors have concurred the same.
Perhaps a break is needed. For your mental health. ”
He said it in such a comforting way that for a moment Andrew didn’t register what it meant. A break.
They were kicking him out.
“We care about your well-being,” the principal said. “I have been in contact with your father and we all think it’s wise if he picks you up this weekend. We can discuss where to go from there.”
Andrew cupped a hand over his ear. It hurt. Everything pounded too loud, too fast.
He needed
Thomas.
“Wait,” he said. “I’m f-fine. I don’t need to leave.” Thomas can’t be left to the monsters alone, he won’t survive.
No one would ever believe that they were protecting the school from the horrors crawling the forests at night. They were screaming for help, and no one could hear.
The principal gave him a long, careful look. “I don’t think it’s productive to bring disciplinary action against you for exiting the school boundaries, Andrew, so understand that this is a lenient outcome for us all. I understand you’re not … well.”
They saw him as a fragile thing, made of fractured glass, full of hairline cracks, and this was the gentlest way they could say: expelled.
Dr. Reul handed him back his notebook and he took it too fast, his head low so they didn’t see the moment when his eyes shone bright as the surface of a river. He had to get out of there before he vomited leaves into his lap.
Outside the office, it was all he could do to keep moving, to stay upright when what he most wanted was to curl into a ball. No point going back to class. One look and Thomas would know. He’d explode. He’d go after Bryce—
Andrew pressed his face into the crook of his elbow for the barest second, but as he turned the corner, someone ducked out and crashed a shoulder into his chest so hard he tripped.
He hit the ground with a breathless gasp, his chin clipping the carpet, teeth sinking into his tongue until copper bloomed against his teeth.
All air left his lungs. He was twelve years old again with scraped knees, looking up at Bryce Kane’s leering grin as he stood like a lord over his fallen prey.
“Hey there, you little shit,” Bryce said, his affable tone not matching the fury in his eyes. “Your friends slandered me, and now they’re going to regret it.”
Andrew pulled himself shakily to his feet, his notebook clutched to his chest. The hall was empty, lined with closed office doors and not a teacher in sight. Blood ran down his chin and hit the carpet in a vermilion kiss.
“Did they kick you out? Sounded like they were going to. But don’t worry, I’m sure Rye will cry for you.” Bryce folded his arms, smirking. “It hurts that little murderer more, you know. Losing you. Way more than if it had been him.”
Andrew wiped at his chin, his breathing shallow, his eyes unfocused. Walk away, just walk—
“Why do you even hate him so much?” he whispered.
“Pfft, I don’t. I couldn’t care less about him.”
Liar, Andrew wanted to say.
“But,” Bryce conceded, sounding almost magnanimous, as if he was sharing a coveted secret, “I think it’s sick that he’s screwing you, but still led Dove on. She could’ve dated me. I was going to ask her.”
Andrew just stared at him. “She would never—” He broke off.
“She would have,” Bryce snapped. “He’s over there with some gross twin fetish and I would’ve been perfect for her. Would’ve looked out for your sorry ass, too. You should choose your friends better, Perrault, then maybe you wouldn’t be hanging out with a murderer who’s the reason your sister—”
Andrew shoved him.
Bryce’s shoulders thumped against the wall and genuine surprise crossed his face, as if he didn’t expect Andrew’s feather-fine bones had the strength—or the courage.
Andrew stood there breathing too fast, blood and forest mud clotted under his tongue, and he let anger pool in all his hollow places.
He could feel it against his teeth, his hate for this boy, this moment, this school. He was about to lose everything.
He was losing himself.
“Touch me again,” he said, “and I’ll kill you.”
Bryce glanced down at his blazer, where Andrew’s hand had landed for the shove, and he stared at the thin layer of moss clinging to the cloth. He tried to brush it off, his surprise deepening to dismay when it clung on.
“What the…” But when he looked up, Andrew was striding away, holding tight to his notebook.
He refused to check his own hand, but he could feel it.
Moss flourished along the underside of his skin.