Chapter Two
Amelie
I’m listening to Slate’s CD quietly in my room the day after Christmas, when the doorbell rings.
I don’t bother going to answer it; there’s enough people in the house that someone else will get there first. And, truth be told, I’ve been kinda hiding out in my room a lot.
Aadi keeps knocking on my door and telling me to stop sulking, but I prefer to think of it as healing.
Well, trying to anyway. Smalls has given me a wide berth, but that just hurts even more.
“Amelie,” my father calls out to me a few moments later. “Can you come down here please?”
I traipse downstairs, not too worried about being called down. It’s not unusual, and there have been a few people wanting to stop by and see me.
All colour drains from my face when I walk into the kitchen and see Sawyer standing there.
“What are you doing here?” I gasp.
“Amelie, your teacher is here.”
Way to go, pointing out the obvious Dad.
“Ex,” I say without thinking.
“Excuse me?”
“Ex teacher. You don’t work at the school anymore do you, Mr Knox?”
“Knox?” my dad asks, eyes widening. He knows the name, piecing together that this is one of Monty’s sons. For a moment he just stares, and then he comes to his senses, shaking his head. “Amelie, ex teacher or not, why is the school flying a member of staff halfway across the world to see you?”
“I’m here to escort Amelie back to Knox Academy, Sir,” Sawyer tells my dad, ruining everything. I fire daggers at him with my eyes, willing him to shut the fuck up.
“What the hell is going on?” my brother asks, walking into the room with Smalls.
Smalls takes one look at my panicked, kangaroo-in-the-headlights expression and comes to stand protectively by my side, pulling me into his huge embrace.
I lean into him for strength and support, wanting to cry.
Smalls doesn’t exactly know everything, but he’s glaring at Sawyer like he’d like to crush his skull.
“Amelie, why is your teacher here to take you back? I thought you were on break until January?”
“I’m not going back,” I announce to the room. The cat is well and truly out of the bag now.
“What?” my dad cries.
“I’m not going. And no one here can make me.” I cross my arms defiantly across my chest.
“Sir,” Sawyer warns my dad who opens his mouth to speak. “Allow me?” Dad nods and Sawyer turns to me.
“Amelie, you have to come back. You’re already at risk of breaking the terms of your court sentence by being here. My father has been covering for you, but you have to be back in the country before the new year begins.”
“So what? I’ll take the community service here if I end up back in court.” I turn to my father and plead with him to let me stay. “Dad, I don’t belong there! There’s arsonists, murderers and rapists at that school!”
“Amelie—” my dad begins but I cut him off, desperate.
“I’m not that bad!” I cry. “Dad, please. I can’t go back there. It was just a bit of weed in the cookies, I don’t deserve a three-year sentence halfway across the world!”
“Amelie, the teacher died,” my dad says quietly, heavily.
“What?” My body turns to ice, my face falling.
“We didn’t want to tell you. We didn’t think you could handle the guilt. Even though it was an accident.”
I shake my head. No. NO. This can’t be happening. My knees give out and I sink to the floor, Smalls tries to catch me and my brother races to be by my side. “You knew,” I accuse, looking at their faces. “You didn’t tell me.”
“Amelie—” Smalls begins.
“Don’t!” I frantically start to fight and push against him. “Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me!”
“If you don’t come back to the school with me, Amelie, you’ll face prison time. I’m here to help,” Sawyer says calmly, approaching me with arms outstretched and palms up, similar to how you’d approach a wounded wild animal.
Dismay drowns me and tears fill my eyes. I am just as bad as everyone else in that school. I deserve this. I deserve worse. Maybe I should stay and face real consequences.
“Don’t you dare,” my brother growls, reading my mind. “Don’t even think about it, Amelie. School is very different to prison.”
“I deserve prison,” I tell him.
Only, I don’t, do I? I glance at Smalls and see the heartbreak written on his face. He’s about to confess, I can see it. Frantically, I shake my head at him, urging him to keep quiet.
“I’ll go pack my bags,” I say miserably.
What choice do I have? If I stay, Smalls will confess the truth to keep me safe, and I can’t lose him. I wouldn’t survive knowing he was behind bars.
“Amelie, we can take a couple of days. You don’t have to pack now. I can get a hotel so you can have time to say goodbye properly. My father hated that you were denied that last time and instructed me to give you the opportunity this time.”
“Thanks, but I suck at goodbyes. It’s too painful. Let’s do this like a band-aid.”
I climb to my feet and Sawyer steps forward and wraps me into his embrace. I melt against him, allowing him to give me the comfort that I denied Smalls. Beside me, Smalls and my brother growl.
“Why is your teacher hugging you like that, Amelie?” Smalls spits, stirring the pot.
“Because she’s also my stepsister and right now she’s hurting. She just found out that the people she loves most in the world lied to her,” Sawyer bites back.
“Hypocrite, much?” I grumble under my breath.
He’s refusing to be intimidated by Smalls, and I respect him for that.
I could’ve lived without the reminder that they also betrayed me though.
The tension rockets up as Smalls and Sawyer get into a pissing contest with one another, each refusing to blink or look away until my father breaks the tension.
“C’mere, Amelie,” Dad says, holding out his arms. I hesitate for a second before launching myself into his embrace. Yes, he lied to me, but for my own good. And he’s my dad.
“Can I come back during the holidays?” I ask Sawyer, already fearing the answer.
“I’m sorry, Amelie, I really am. Take a few days, please,” he begs.
“Bye, Dad, I love you,” I whisper, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Babygirl, I’m proud of you,” he tells me.
“You’re proud of me being a killer?” I scoff, close to losing it.
“I’m proud of the person you’ve become. You may not have been at that school long, but I can see how much you’ve changed – we all can – and I’m proud of the woman you’re becoming.”
I sniff back a sob and wipe the tears from my eyes.
“I love you, Dad.”
“You too, pumpkin,” he tells me, hugging me close and ruffling my hair like he used to when I was a kid.
It’s petty, maybe, but I refuse to speak or even look at Aadi and Smalls. Fuck them.
I leave the room and head upstairs to pack my bag.
Looking around, I wonder what I should take with me this time?
What do I need? I left everything behind, so I’m sure it will be there waiting for me when I get back to Knox Academy.
I look around my room and realise that I’ve not really been living here either.
I didn’t make my dorm at Knox a home, and although my room here has posters on the walls and more personal belongings, as I look around the room, I realise that I don’t want to take them with me either. It’s time to start afresh.
I shove a couple of hoodies in my backpack, remembering how cold it is over there.
I pick up my Christmas gifts from the guys and my family.
And then I cross to my jewellery box. I don’t have a lot – we’re not a foolish family, we wouldn’t waste precious food money on trinkets and jewels – but I do have one sentimental item I want to take with me now that I know I really won't be returning any time soon.
I reach into the small wooden box and pull out a necklace.
It’s a Celtic knot, kind of similar to the Knox boys’ tattoos I realise with a jolt.
I don’t know where I got the necklace, it’s always just sort of been there.
But now I want to wear it for some reason.
I undo the clasp, reach up and re-fasten it around my neck.
Then I tuck it inside my top so that it’s unnoticeable.
One last glance around the room and I realise I’m ready to go. I’m not exactly looking forward to having to return to Knox Academy and face the carnage I left in my wake, but I’d be lying if I said my heart isn’t beating a little faster at the thought of seeing the rest of the Knox brothers again.
When I come back down, it takes me a moment to comprehend the scene before me. Sawyer is sitting at our table holding a bag of frozen peas up to his face. My father can be heard shouting from the next room and my brother and Smalls are nowhere to be seen.
I really don’t want to know, but I ask anyway.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. They’re insanely protective of you,” he mutters.
“When it comes to some things, yeah they are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, looking sharply at me.
“They protect me from outsiders, from physical harm, but they don’t consider the damage they do to me themselves.”
Why did I just say that? I instantly feel disloyal to my family for blurting out our current difficulties, but I blame this damn connection I share with Sawyer.
He makes me open up to him even when I don’t want to.
Horror must show on my face because Sawyer tells me not to worry, he won’t say anything.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Leave now, I mean?”
“Please. If I don’t go now, I might be tempted to run,” I tell him honestly.
I want out of this house and I don’t want to say goodbye. I’ve kinda done that already with my dad, and Chelsea will just cry too much. Aadi and Smalls…well, they’re not dead to me – I’m not that dramatic – but they can certainly sit and stew for a while. Especially Smalls.
I think of Sarah’s pretty face and green anger bubbles up inside me. It’s not jealousy. Not at all. Fuck him. And fuck her too.
I nod to Sawyer and we leave my house. There’s a car parked outside, and I frown at Sawyer.
“You got a rental?”
“Didn’t know how long I’d be here. Thought you’d take more persuading to leave.”
“What’s more persuasive than being told you’re a killer?” I shrug, trying to be tough, but Sawyer doesn’t fall for it at all. He hesitates like he wants to reach for me, but instead opens my door. I slide in and shove my backpack down by my feet. No need to use the trunk.
“I’m a killer too,” he whispers quietly. Fuck. I instantly feel bad.
“Do you have a job to go back to?”
“My father has some work for me. I’m hoping to secure a teaching post at one of the other local schools, but we’ll see.”
I nod. This is my fault, but saying so will only make it seem like I’m looking for pity and comfort.
I want neither. I think back to Slate begging me to stay away from Sawyer – he said losing his job would literally kill him – and guilt settles heavily in my stomach.
Why do I feel worse about his job than the teacher who died?
Because it wasn’t you, my subconscious whispers at me. I tell it to shut the fuck up and bury that thought down. Some secrets have to go to the grave.
We drive to the airport in silence. I’m tense, but Sawyer seems at ease. I have a million questions about the guys, what happened when I left, what I’m returning to. My pride doesn’t allow me to ask a single one.
When we get to the airport Sawyer pulls up at the place where the rental cars get dropped off.
“You sure you want to go now? I have a hotel we can stay at if you want to take a few days.”
I swallow at his suggestion. Sawyer and I, alone in a hotel, for a few days? Where do I sign up?!
“I’m sure I’ll be able to get another room.”
He dashes my hopes and dreams, which is probably for the best because I’m supposed to be mad at all of them still. And I am. But if I spend too long in close proximity to Sawyer, I know I’ll crumble and cave.
“No. Let’s do this.” I climb out of the car, needing to be away from him. Because 24 hours in the small confines of a plane ought to be easy, right?