Chapter 7
MYLES
I can’t decide whether my face or my ribs hurt more.
I sit in English with an ice pack against my cheek, staring at my copy of Hamlet cracked wide open, but I can’t focus.
I don’t want to think about Mallory right now.
To be honest, I don’t want to think about either of the Adler sisters. And yet, I get another text.
Mallory:
Meet me in the library after class.
Me:
Can’t you just text me?
She leaves me on read, which I take as a no. This day just keeps snowballing worse and worse.
Being trampled by Emma was the last thing I expected today.
And who did she think she was calling me a murderer?
Is it a twisted joke? Did she think it was funny?
That combined with Mallory texting me has my brain on the verge of exploding, and I’m going to be sick.
My mind is being pulled into a million directions and I can’t breathe.
Why now? After all these years why has Emma chosen to speak to me? The way she shrieked as she ran toward me replays on repeat in my head. Her beady eyes and wild hair. As someone who spent the last three years purposely not looking at her, everything about her was a shock to my system.
She has to want something, but she hasn’t learned to communicate in a civil way.
She never was good at opening up. I could always tell when something was bothering her, but instead of talking to me, she’d whisk herself away with some outlandish distraction.
It never made sense to me. She could talk for days, but her words somehow never touched on her feelings.
She’d crack a joke or run off to feel the wind in her hair because that was easier.
There was a time when I thought if I was patient enough, one day she’d open up to me the way I wanted her to. But I know now that she never cared about me the same way I cared about her. If she did, she wouldn’t have let our friendship disintegrate.
It’s hard thinking about her without it bringing up memories of us together.
I used to like how Emma wasn’t afraid to stand out. She didn’t care if she got weird looks as she climbed a tree to get a kitten down or if she wore bright orange sneakers with her uniform despite it being against the dress code. She was brave and fearless.
She was a talker, always coming up with stories to pass the time, and I loved hearing her voice.
I liked to watch the way her eyes lit up when she was happy.
She made my move easier because she distracted me from the loneliness I felt after my dad died.
Every time I was sad, I could lose myself in Emma’s world.
I even found myself telling Emma things I’d never told anyone else. She was one of the few people who knew why I loved baseball.
“I miss playing with him,” I’d said.
“I’ll play with you.”
And she meant it. On more than one occasion, she showed up to my house in a baseball cap much too big for her head, dragging a bat behind her.
But with a flip of a switch, she stopped wanting to spend time with me.
At first I thought it was because we weren’t in the same school anymore and I was busy with baseball practice.
She’d get mad at me when I was busy, but even when I tried to make time for her, she wasn’t interested.
I knew her parents were fighting, but she wouldn’t talk to me about it.
She only wanted me sometimes, and I was so desperate to be around her, I’d let her guilt me into skipping practice or staying up late when she knocked on my window because I didn’t know how long it would take for her to want me again.
The bell rings and I jump, pulled back to reality.
Mallory. She still hasn’t replied, which means I need to find her.
I peek over my shoulder to make sure no one is following me and slip down the hallway and into the library. I walk to the very back aisle.
Mallory stands in the middle of the row with a book hugged to her chest as she eyes the books in front of her like that’s the real reason she’s here right now.
I approach, pulling a book from the shelf next to her, acting like I’m looking. “What is it now?”
“I need your help again.”
I roll my eyes. The “help” I gave her was letting her copy my last three homework assignments for physics, but I didn’t have a choice.
She knows my secret.
I told my mom I was staying late at school because I was in honor society. I figured she wouldn’t ask questions about it, but I didn’t think about the possibility of her crossing paths with Mallory, who actually was in honor society.
She offered to keep my cover in exchange for help with her homework. At the time I thought she wanted to be tutored, but as soon as we met up the first time, I quickly realized she just wanted the answers.
I clear my throat, setting the book back onto the shelf. “I told you I was done.”
There’s a beat of silence that’s not more than a second long, but it feels like eternity. I hold my breath, and the drum of my heart screams in my ears.
She swallows and runs her finger down the spine of the book in front of her. “I have a big test on Friday and it’s weighted. If I get an A, it’ll boost my grade by a lot.”
“So?”
“You’re a TA for Mrs. Humphrey’s sixth period class, right? You can get a copy of the—”
“No. Do you realize how much trouble I’ll get into if I get caught?”
Her lips twitch and she looks back at me, a dark expression covering her eyes. “You owe me. I kept your secret.”
“This is serious. We can study for the test if you have time.”
“You don’t understand. I have to ace the test.”
“Then study like everyone else.”
Her jaw tightens, and she takes a breath through her nose, nostrils flaring ever so slightly. “Would you rather see what happens if your secret gets out?”
Sam finds me in the hallway, hanging his arm across my shoulders. “How’s the face?”
“Sore.” I touch my cheek where Emma kicked me, shuddering at the thought.
“And red,” he says. “I still can’t believe that actually happened. What did you do to deserve it?”
“Nothing. It’s Emma.”
He sucks in a breath. “I don’t know, man, something must have happened. She hasn’t talked to you in years. Are you going to ask her about it?”
“No.” I don’t want to encourage her to do anything like this again.
If I make a big deal out of it, she’ll only act out more.
Besides, now that I have to figure out how to sneak into Mrs. Humphrey’s classroom and find the answers to Friday’s test, I don’t have time to worry about Emma even if I wanted to.
“But how else are you supposed to find out why she attacked you?”
I shrug. “I guess we’ll never know.”
His brows dip down, meeting in the middle. “Did you forget where we’re headed?”
It’s art. Why would I forget?
Then it hits me . . .
Groaning, I toss my head back and my cheek hurts more from the thought crossing my mind. “No.”
Art is the one class I have where it isn't just seniors. It’s mixed with students from every grade, including juniors, and it also happens to be the one class I have with Emma.
I almost forgot she was ever there since she sits in the corner of the room, as far from me as possible, and never looks at me, but after this morning, I don’t know what to expect from her.
“Yes,” Sam says, a little smile forming on his lips. “So maybe we’ll find out after all.”
I scowl, tilting my head. “If she makes a move, I’m using you as a shield this time.”
“She wouldn’t dare hurt this,” he says, pointing to his face.
“Oh, yes she would.”
The classroom is mostly full, and my shoulders relax when I spot her empty seat. Maybe she went home after her tantrum this morning. It’s not like it’s the first time she’s skipped school.
I slip into my seat, setting my bag on the floor between my legs.
The last few days Ms. Simon has started class with a short lecture featuring a different artist, and then she lets us work on our projects for the rest of the period.
Right now we’re focusing on clay and sculpting, but I’m no Michelangelo.
I decided to sculpt a baseball, which I thought would be a lot easier than it has been.
Ms. Simon asked me to bring in a real baseball and sculpt every stitch, scruff, and dent it had.
“Uh-oh,” Sam whispers.
I follow his eyes to the door where a bewildered Emma walks in. She still has dirt in her hair from when we dropped her and her sweater is only halfway tucked into her skirt.
She scans the room until she locks on me.
Heat rises on the back of my neck and I shift my gaze to the table. If I don’t look at her, maybe she’ll walk past me to her seat in the corner of the room like normal.
But nothing about today is normal.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her walk up. Her navy plaid skirt stops in front of our table.
I make the mistake of looking up to see Emma’s eyes like lasers aimed at me. Her expression is a little creepy. It’s as if she’s in the wild, planning to pounce.
I duck, pretending I don’t notice her. If I can’t see her, she can’t see me, right?
Wrong.
Sam leans toward me. “Does she blink?” he whispers.
“Just ignore her,” I say.
Emma inches closer and taps Sam’s shoulder. “Trade me.”
I don’t understand why she’s doing this. Why all of a sudden? Whatever it is, I can guarantee she could’ve texted. She still has my number, doesn’t she? I never changed it. Then again, that would be how a mature and considerate person would handle a situation. Emma is anything but that.
Sam looks at me and then up at her again. “Say please.”
I roll my eyes, dragging my hand down my face. That’s not how ignoring works . . .
Emma crosses her arms and glares at him.
“Close enough,” Sam says, standing.
What happened to having my back? At the very least he could’ve refused a little more. I grab on to him. “Whoa, where are you going? You can’t just leave.”
Sam smiles and whispers, “I think you two have some catching up to do.”
My mouth falls open. Is he really so desperate to find out what happened this morning that he’d betray me like this?
I’m going to make him pay for abandoning me. I’m supposed to be finishing the glaze on my baseball, not sitting next to an unstable volcano who’s on the verge of exploding again.
I hold on to Sam’s blazer, but he pries my hand off. “I’m going to talk to Ms. Simon for a minute. You two have fun.” He waves in a way that makes me want to sock him in the eye. I wouldn’t really do it, but the thought is there.
Emma slides into his seat and sets her backpack down. Without skipping a beat, she turns to me, resting her elbows on the table. Her glare focuses directly on me.
My heart stops.
I wasn’t ready for it. Not this much all at once. Not when we haven’t made eye contact in years.
“Have you been hanging out with Mallory?” she asks.
A chill rushes through me, up my arms and down my spine. Did she see us together in the library just now?
“Have you?” Emma asks.
If Emma finds out the truth, who knows what she’ll do with that information. What if hates me so much she marches right up to my mother and ruins my entire career in an instant? Not to mention her sister will kill me if anyone finds out about her cheating.
I’ve never been good at lying to Emma, but I’m not about to let her destroy my life. “No.”
Her eyes narrow, searching me. “Are you and Mallory”—she lowers her voice and holds her hand by her mouth to try and stop others from overhearing—“seeing each other?”
My lungs deflate and I almost choke. “Of course not.”
How could she suggest something like that? I’ve never thought of Mallory that way. If anything she’s like a sister. A sister who just blackmailed me into stealing a test for her.
Emma lowers her hand and chews at her bottom lip. “Have you ever wanted to hurt her?”
My mind flashes back to this morning when Emma ran at me screaming about how I murdered her sister. Now, she’s asking if I’d want to hurt Mallory?
I roll my eyes. “I’m not doing this with you.”
She doesn’t deserve to meddle in my life. Not after the way she left it. I’ll take my own advice and ignore her.
“Like I want to talk to you,” she mumbles.
My chest burns with spite. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then why is she over here? She should go back to her corner seat and let us go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Sam makes his way back over to us. “Okay, you two, did you make up?”
Neither one of us smiles, we just stare at him, answering the question without words.
“Fun,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Well, class is about to start so I kind of need my seat back.” He scratches the back of his neck, and his eyes falter like he’s afraid to ask her to move.
Emma’s glare softens and a little coy smile tugs at her mouth. “Hey Sam, how well do you know my sister?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. We have a couple classes together I think.”
“Do you ever talk to her?”
“Not much. Why?”
“What about him?” She points at me. “Does he ever hang out with my sister?”
He laughs. “Myles doesn’t have time for that. He barely has time to hang out with me.”
“And why’s that?” she asks.
Sam, be quiet.
I shake my head ever so slightly, hoping he’ll take the hint. I’m afraid of what he’ll say to her.
Unfortunately, he can’t read my mind, and I’m pleading with my eyes for him not to tell her anything else.
I scratch my head, digging my nails into my skull to try and distract myself.
Sam shrugs. “He’s busy—”
I kick him.
He yelps, wincing, and shoots me a nasty look.
Emma leans closer to him. “With what?”
He backs away. “School. That’s it. Lots of school studying. You know?”
Her lip curls, and she sits back. “He’s hanging out with Mallory, isn’t he?”
Sam shakes his head. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“You sure?”
“I’m telling the truth. Go ask her yourself if you don’t believe me,” he says.
“Do you think he’d ever hurt someone?”
I slam the table. “Shut up!”
Emma and Sam jump. Now, the whole class is staring at us.
My heart is beating fast, and there’s a piercing sound in my ears.
I want it to stop. I don’t understand where this anger is coming from all of a sudden.
Is it really from Emma asking questions, or is it the fact she’s next to me at all?
How could she start talking to me like nothing ever happened between us?
“Is everything okay, Myles?” Ms. Simon asks.
My mouth is dry. “Yes—sorry—” I tilt my head down to hide from all of the eyes. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a moment of silence and then Emma whispers, “So you have a temper.”
I bite my tongue.
She doesn’t care that she upset me or that my hands are shaking. I’m clearly uncomfortable around her, but she’s oblivious. She doesn’t care how badly she hurt me in the past, so why would she care about how I feel right now?
She might’ve been my friend at one point, but that’s a lifetime ago. If today proved anything, it's that my heart doesn’t flutter around her anymore. It burns.
It burns from the hate that’s been brewing for the last three years.
Hate is all that’s left of what we used to be.