Chapter Twenty Six #2
By the time the vigil dissolves, small clusters breaking off to murmur amongst themselves, I’m itching to be as far away from here as possible.
My parents linger near the podium, shaking hands with faculty members and donors who have suddenly decided that their presence here is an excellent networking opportunity.
Cameras flash intermittently as reporters try to capture the most emotionally compelling angles of the night. I slip away the first chance I get.
Thankfully, no one stops me, meaning my job here is done. There’s a certain advantage to the reputation I’ve cultivated over the years. People assume I’m brooding, preferring to reflect in private. In reality, I’m just tired of being watched.
The farther I move away from the courtyard, the quieter the campus becomes.
A soft rustle of wind moves through the trees that line the walkways, drowning out the event happening behind me.
Hollowbrook appears different at night, the academic buildings looming larger in the dark, their lit windows glowing against the stoney grounds.
The perfect setting for the tension rippling through every brick and branch.
Another girl is missing, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
I don’t realize where my feet are carrying me until I find myself striding towards the stadium, the door handle against my palm, the locker rooms passing in a blur until I step beneath the moonless sky once again.
The flood lights are off, leaving the field contained within the fence swallowed in darkness, but the scent of artificial turf still lingers faintly.
I lean against the cool metal railing, rubbing a hand down my face as the events of the evening finally catch up with me.
How much longer do I need to carry this pretense?
How many times am I going to be used as a poster child for events that have nothing to do with me?
Whilst we’re distracting the media, there’s a girl out there in need of saving, again, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Except using her distress to redirect attention away from the scandals in my past. If only someone stopped long enough to look deeper, they’d realize I’m not who they think I am.
I’m the son of a business mogul and I’m—
Footsteps approach from behind. My heart stutters in my chest, my breathing uneven as I glance over my shoulder.
Meg stands there, her pale gaze not the one I was expecting.
Attempting to shut down my expression to a mask she’d be more comfortable with, she frowns and takes a swift step forward. Her heel scrapes against the concrete.
“Everest, what’s wrong?” she touches my back, her hand trailing between my shoulder blades until she turns me to face her.
“I’m fine,” I croak, clenching my chest. “I just…sometimes it hurts to breathe a little. My head is just…swimming.” I grip the railing harder, but it doesn’t stop my knees from buckling. Meg rushes into my space, joining me in sinking to the ground in the black pantsuit I picked out for her.
“Everest, I think you’re having a panic attack,” she gasps. I shake my head, squeezing my eyes tight.
“No, no. I don’t panic. I’m fine,” I wheeze, my lungs shutting down.
The air refuses to settle in my chest, each breath catching halfway down my throat like there’s an invisible hand squeezing tighter and tighter around my ribs.
“Just leave me. I’ll be…fine in a minute.
” I hate the sound that escapes me next, a weak, strangled gasp that shatters whatever illusion of control I still had left.
Meg doesn’t move away. If anything, she moves closer, one knee pressing against the concrete as she crouches beside me.
“Don’t be so stubborn. Let me help,” she demands and I clench my chest a little tighter.
“Ahh, the irony. It hurts.” There’s a light smack on my shoulder before Meg’s hand reaches for the base of my neck. I concentrate on her touch, rooting myself to it as my mind falters.
“We’re going to breathe, okay? In for three, out for five.
Count with me. One,” Meg starts counting, audibly inhaling and exhaling.
I mimic in short bursts at first, still battling against the feeling of having someone witness me in this state.
Heat crawls through my body, making a beeline for my throat.
“You’re still breathing too fast,” Meg comments far more calmly than I expected. “Slow it down.”
“I—” Another breath catches violently in my chest. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” She shifts, lowering my head into her lap to free up her hands.
One reaches for my wrist and rests it against my chest, while the other presses lightly against the center of her chest. “Focus on me. In through your nose. Slowly.” I try to nod my head, although I’m not sure I manage it.
My mind feels like it’s falling, sinking through space, despite being safely cocooned in Meg’s lap.
“Everest…Calloway…doesn’t panic,” I manage to rasp, clinging to the words as if I’m not laying on the same stadium floor where Meg was bludgeoned and dragged away.
On the same campus where Laura was drugged and stolen in the middle of the night.
On the same site as the secret I hide but can’t ignore.
“Everest,” Meg cuts in, giving me a firm shake.
“Your body doesn’t care about your reputation right now.
” That stalls my thoughts. Fuck, she’s right, and within an instant, my limbs are starting to loosen.
No one else is here. No one aside from Meg, that is, and she’s already seen straight through the hoax I’m failing to maintain.
Her thumb presses gently against the inside of my wrist where my pulse is racing out of control, and to probably both of our surprise, she rubs small, reassuring circles.
Eventually, I accept that she’s not going to leave.
She’s staying to see me through this. My lungs drag in a shaky breath, steadily starting to match her whispered count.
Against my better judgement, my eyes crack open.
The world tilts slightly, Meg’s face hovering in the darkness.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders, strands shifting to tickle my cheeks.
“Why are you here?” I manage to croak. Meg shakes her head, continuing to count.
Three in, five out, as she demonstrates with exaggeration.
At some point, she releases my wrist and her hand slips into mine.
I curl my fingers between hers, unsure if that’s what she intended but I cling on anyway.
She’s joined me on this sinking ship now, I’m tethering her to it.
Gradually, the violent pounding in my ears fades, becoming somewhat manageable.
The tight band around my ribs doesn’t loosen completely, but the suffocating pressure begins to ease just enough for me to combat the dizziness swirling around my head.
Sensing the shift in my body and without discussion, we readjust for Meg to get more comfortable.
Her legs curl underneath her, and somehow my head seems to end up resting back on her shoulder.
Across my stomach, my fingers remain interlocked with hers.
“How are you feeling?” Meg’s voice rumbles against my back, her cheek against my head. Our rivalry has been temporarily put on pause.
“Like I said, I’m fine,” I grumble irritably.
Not at her. At myself. Meg lets the lie slide, gazing out towards the pitch as though we both came out here with the sole intention of watching the empty stretch of artificial turf beneath a sky that has chosen tonight to hide every last star.
Silence settles between us, not a sound to be heard beyond my slightly labored breathing.
Though, it feels different now. Less like she’s humoring me and more of a shared moment.
One I will insist we never speak of again.
Ultimately, I decide I can’t lie here against her any longer. Not if I want to start scraping back some of my dignity. My fingers loosen their death grip on Meg’s and I force myself to sit up, breaking our contact.
“You want to tell me what that was really about?” Meg asks. I let out a slow breath through my nose, the weight of stress still lingering faintly in my limbs.
“No,” I answer honestly. I don’t need to look at her to know she’s rolled her eyes.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“I didn’t exactly have an enjoyable experience myself,” I snip back.
For a moment, I think that’s the end of it.
That Meg will stand up, brush off her ruined pantsuit, and disappear back toward the campus like this never happened.
Instead, she stays seated beside me on the cold concrete.
I turn away from the field, leaning back against the railing now, letting the cool surface press against the back of my skull as I study her in the dim light.
“You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?” Meg opens her mouth immediately, the response clearly halfway formed, but then something flickers across her expression. Her lips press together again, hesitation replacing whatever quick excuse she’d been about to offer.
“I was…um,” She bites her lip. Even in the subdued light, I witness a mix of guilt and stubbornness settle across her features as she glances down at her hands. “I thought maybe the vigil might bring Harrison back.” My brow furrows, a prickling unease working its way through me.
“I’m sorry. What?”
Meg’s shoulders lift in a small, helpless shrug. It’s her turn to become guarded, trying to shut me out.
“I thought that maybe he might want to return to the scene of the crime. That it was me he was after,” she says so quietly, I have to lean forward to hear her properly.
“And maybe I could trade myself for Laura.” The words settle in the air between us for half a second before the full implication of what she’s just said slams into my brain.