Chapter 12
EMMA
Rage fills every ounce of my body as I hit the door because I wanted to believe nothing was going on between them, but I knew better. I could see the lies written all over his face.
What are they doing that’s so awful they can’t tell me? Is it the reason he kills her? I can’t fathom what could possibly turn him into a killer, but right now I don’t care about anything other than the fact he locked me in a shed.
The audacity this boy has. How could he shove me in here like I was a piece of trash he could throw out of sight? I’m not that easy to get rid of.
I smack the door again and again. “Hello! Someone get me out of here!”
I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but it feels like it’s been an eternity. My pulse races as darkness looms around me. There’s a faint glow seeping underneath the door, but it isn’t enough to light up the shed.
After another five minutes of yelling and pounding on the door, my voice grows tired. I sink down to the floor, leaning against the door. Who knows how long it’ll be before someone comes outside.
When did Myles become so infuriating? I rub my wrist where he grabbed me and I seethe at the memory of his touch.
That was the same hand that pushed Mallory over the bridge.
I don’t care if he hasn’t done it yet. I know he’s capable of it, and I’ll never forgive him for it, even when I stop him before it happens again.
A sour taste fills my mouth when that awful night comes to mind.
It was dark, but the street lamps lit him and Mallory up like a spotlight on the bridge.
They were fighting, but I wasn’t close enough to hear what it was about.
All I know is he grabbed her and I started running toward them, but I was too late.
She kicked and pushed back, but he was too strong.
He lifted her up and pushed her over the bridge.
I screamed, peering over the edge the second I reached the bridge, but I couldn’t see her. There was only a faint ripple in the water where she fell.
“What did you do?” I cried, horrified and in shock.
Myles was breathing fast, and his eyes were red and strained. He looked down at his shaky hands like they were the true culprit.
“What did you do?” I hit him, screaming into his face, and he let me. He didn’t block his face or try to run. He stood there like a statue while I beat him, pounding my fist into his chest.
Even back then he wouldn’t tell me why he did it. That only enrages me more. For a boy who used to tell me everything, I don’t understand how he could do something so horrendous and choose not to explain himself when I begged. How could he just stand there?
I want to tear him from my memory. To wipe it clean and start my life over because every thought, every moment in time, is somehow connected to him.
I don’t know how to explain it, but hating someone I used to cherish is the worst kind of hatred there is.
It’s deep and raw because he isn’t some random person who wronged me.
He’s the only person who ever really knew me, and he knew exactly how badly he hurt me.
I kick my feet, smashing them into a box as I groan. I need to get out of here. I swear the second I get out I’m going to find him and force him to talk, even if I have to pry it out of him. I’m running out of time. If I don’t figure it out soon, I know history will repeat itself.
That isn’t an option.
I refuse to let Mallory die tomorrow.
Time drags on at a snail’s pace, and there’s nothing to do but steep in my anger and frustration.
He locked me in a shed. Who does that? What if no one comes to let me out?
Is he going to unlock it at some point or make me wait until after-school sports start?
What am I supposed to eat? And don’t even get me started on the lack of a bathroom.
When I get my hands on that boy—
There are voices.
I jump up, banging on the door. “Help me! I’m locked inside!”
Their voices are muffled, but I can tell they’re getting closer. I keep hitting the door and calling out to them.
“Hello?” It’s a man’s voice.
My heart leaps with a sigh of relief. I won’t be stuck here much longer. “Please get me out of here.”
He pulls on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. “I need to find someone who knows the code.”
“Okay,” I say even though I don’t want him to leave. “Please hurry.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”
I rest my forehead on the door, hoping he means it. Every second I have is precious. Who knows how much damage Myles has caused while I’ve been in here. I need to wedge myself between him and Mallory to stop them from seeing each other.
I’ll force her to stay home all day tomorrow if I have to.
I’ll lock her in her room or pretend I’m sick and beg her to stay home.
I’ll do whatever I need to. I just want her back, and I don’t care if she yells at me for the rest of my life.
Or if she hates me for what I’m about to do. I just want her to live.
She has her whole life ahead of her. She’s the smartest person I know. She could become a doctor and save lives or fly to the moon if she wanted to. The world needs her. I need her.
If all I do with my life is save hers, I’ll be content until the day I die.
The voices return.“We’re going to open the door.”
I step back, waiting.
There are some beeping noises as they punch in the code and then the door creaks open, blinding me with sunlight.
“Are you okay?”
I squint as Mr. Phillips, the vice principal, comes into view. Next to him is Mr. Bauer, who’s one of the school’s janitors.
“How long have you been in there?”
I hear their questions, but I only have one thing on my mind: I’m going to find that boy.
I stumble out of the shed with fire burning in my heart as I clench my hands at my sides. “What time is it?”
“It’s uh—” Mr. Phillips looks at the watch on his wrist. “It’s 8:55.”
That means second period is about to start and I know exactly where he is. I start marching toward the school.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mr. Phillips calls after me.
“Sorry, but I have to get to class!” I bite my lip, cringing. Mallory would scold me for not being more appreciative. I spin around. “Thank you!” Then I sprint the rest of the way into the building. I race up the stairs to the second level and storm into art class, out of breath and seething.
He sits at his spot, leaning back way too casually for someone who shoved another human being into a shed and left them there to rot.
I slap the table in front of him to get his attention. “Do you want to die?”
His eyes slowly raise, and he stares at me with a hardened expression like he isn’t the least bit remorseful.
Samir nudges him. “What happened now?”
Myles doesn’t answer him. Instead he focuses back on a round lump of clay on his desk that’s supposed to be who-knows-what.
My arms shake as my anger travels from my toes all the way to my head. The pressure is becoming unbearable and I have to do something.
“Do you realize how long I was in that shed!” I yell.
Sam’s jaw drops and he playfully smacks Myles’s arm. “Bro, you didn’t.”
Myles shrugs. “You beat me up yesterday so we’re even now.”
I gasp, nostrils flaring and toes curling.
This is too much. I’ve had it with his smug attitude and I’ve exceeded my limit. Before I can stop myself, I shove my hand into the open jar of white glaze next to him and swipe my hand across his face.
Everything stops. No one speaks. No one moves.
Myles’s lips part as his jaw rocks, and he looks at me again with dark tired eyes. The boy who grew up being told he had the patience of an angel doesn’t seem so patient anymore.
I don’t know what he’s about to do, but I know he won’t be able to ignore me any longer. I have his attention.
His chair screeches as he pushes it back.
A glare locks on to my face, but I don’t move. I stand my ground in front of him, daring him to drag me away again.
He opens the red glaze and pours it over my head.
I shriek as glaze drips down my hair. I don’t know why, but I didn’t expect him to fight back. I wanted him to be intimidated, but instead I started a war.
I grab every glaze and paint in arm’s reach, removing the lids and chucking them at him one by one as he chases after me. The other students jump out of the way as paint and glaze fly across the room.
The paint containers rupture like bombs all over the floor, making the classroom look like a crime scene in seconds.
I leap up and grab a stack of brushes, throwing them at him as he searches for another jar of paint. “You brat!”
“This isn’t a great idea,” Sam says, ducking underneath the desk. “Ms. Simon isn’t going to like this.”
Neither one of us cares.
We don’t stop. I pick up a random binder and use it as a shield to deflect Myles’s throws while searching for my next weapon. If he’s set on ruining my life, I’ll make his as miserable as possible in the process.
“That’s enough!” Ms. Simon yells the second she steps foot in the room.
Myles freezes with his hand in the air, ready to throw yellow paint at my face.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I look around. There’s an explosion of muddy colors coating the floor, the desks, and even some of the walls.
He gulps, setting down the jar like he realized just how far he’s strayed from his good reputation.
I'd rather be eating lunch, but unfortunately there’s a bucket of soapy water at my side and a rag in my hand.
Instead of detention, Ms. Simon decided to take matters into her own hands and agreed not to inform our parents as long as the mess was cleaned up.
She thought it would be a great opportunity to work together and put our differences aside, but she doesn’t know how impossible that is.
I’ll never bond with the heinous creature next to me.
I scrub green paint off the wood floors while Myles works on a spot on the wall.
Ms. Simon sits at her desk, eating her sandwich while watching a show on her computer.
She’s wearing headphones, so I can’t tell what she’s watching.
Whatever it is, she’s invested in it to the point where I doubt she’s watching us.
Every few minutes she gasps or laughs, reminding me she’s in the corner of the room.
Myles’s blazer hangs on one of the chairs behind us, and his sleeves are rolled up. I don’t really see the point. There's so much paint and glaze on the two of us I’m sure we’ll need new uniforms.
He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand before leaning in to scrub hard again. The paint is stubborn, but it’s slowly coming off.
“Stop staring and get to work,” he says.
I scowl, dipping my rag into the bucket of water next to me. “I’m not staring.”
“You’ve been staring since yesterday,” he mumbles. “It’s like you’ve got a weird obsession all of a sudden.”
I roll my eyes as I wring out my rag. His grumbly voice is irritating, raspy and dull. He doesn’t smile. Everything about him is cold and icy. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not obsessed with you.”
“Yeah?” He bends down to clean another spot closer to the ground. His icy blue eyes bore into me. “Because you can’t seem to leave me alone.”
“Oh, trust me, I wish I could. I wish you’d disappear so I’d never have to see your face again,” I say.
“And yet, you’re the one who keeps showing up.”
“Only because you lied to me. I want to know what’s going on with you and Mallory.”
He scrubs harder. “I already told you. There’s nothing going on.”
I huff, shoving the rag into the bucket hard enough to splash him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”
He glares, wiping the water off his arm. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re obnoxious?”
My stomach twists in on itself. How did the boy I once loved change so much? He used to be my favorite person in the entire world, but now he makes me sick. I don’t want to breathe the same air as him, let alone be in the same room.
There’s a buzz and he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Who texted you?” I ask.
He shakes his head and goes back to scrubbing without answering me.
I bet his phone has all the answers I’m looking for. If I could just get a hold of it, I wouldn’t need to waste all my time trying to get him to answer my questions. It sits on the desk, burning a hole in my vision. It’s so close.
But I don’t know how I’d be able to take it without him noticing. I have a feeling he wouldn’t let me get very far if I grabbed it.
Ms. Simon stands up, taking off her headphones. “I need to go grab something from my car. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I expect you two to get along while I’m gone.”
Myles scoffs.
Charming.
His phone sits on the desk behind us, mocking me. It buzzes again.
My heart spikes.
Mallory’s name shows up. Not only are they lying to me, but they’re also texting each other right in front of me. I need to know what’s going on.
I stand and walk over to the sink to rinse out my rag. When I come back, I purposely walk in front of the desk and slip his phone into my pocket before bending down to continue scrubbing the floor.
Whatever they’re hiding, I’m about to uncover it.