13. Juliet
13
JULIET
M y skin is on fire. Invisible trails of some unknown substance dripping down my abdomen and over my thighs. It makes me itchy, like something is there—or was—and I don’t know what.
My eyes crack open. My chapped lips smack as the taste of vomit sits on the back of my tongue. I wrinkle my nose against the burn of expensive cologne. Where are my clothes? I look down to find my dress gone. My bra and panties are gone.
Where did they go? Did I take them off? My head pounds as if a thousand jackhammers are trying to break their way out of the inside of my skull.
Feeling both too cold and too hot, I’m left in nothing but my skin. A shameful feeling skitters over my breasts and down my stomach. I wrap my arms around myself as a chill seeps into my skin, burrowing until it reaches my bones.
My body is whole. My limbs are unbroken. My skin is unharmed. Yet… something inside me feels so incredibly wrong.
As if my skin is too tight, like my face is drawn over the wrong set of bones. My muscles scream in defiance as I try to shift on the bed. It’s not my bed, but one of the guest beds in my parents’ home. How did I end up here?
That strange sensation of stickiness all over won’t go away, not even when I rub my palms up and down my arms and legs and stomach.
What is it? Why is it there? Why? Why? Why!
I turn my cheek as a shadow appears in my periphery. A body lies there, stretched out on the bed next to me. A masculine arm drawn up over a pillow. His face is turned away, hidden from view.
I start to shake. There’s gray in the stubble on the part of his jaw that I can see. This isn’t Bran. This isn’t my boyfriend. This isn’t…
Real.
This isn’t real, I tell myself.
None of this is real.
“Juliet!” The near guttural growl of Roquel’s voice jerks me out of the last haziness of sleep and the nightmare. “Did you hear me?” I sit up as her head pokes around the door of her closet. “I said we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”
I swallow around a dry throat and bob my head. Even though I feel like a puppet whose strings have been cut, I somehow manage to leverage myself out of bed and stumble over to the collection of shit I’ve accumulated since I got here. Digging around as she comes out of her closet, hopping on one foot to get herself into a pair of ripped jeans, I find a loose pair of sweats and a black t-shirt.
Once, I’d treated going to school like prepping for New York Fashion week. Uniforms couldn’t be changed, but they could be accessorized. Now, as long as I’m not naked, I don’t really give a fuck. All of my intentions for getting back at the Scorpion Kings for fucking me over have dwindled in the days away from them. Everything is too much. It requires far too many fucks to give when I don’t have enough to go around.
I quickly change as Roquel dives back into her closet for a skin-tight tank top that I just know one of the teachers is going to call her out for breaking dress code. She never seems to care—and surprisingly, she never seems to make it to Principal Long’s office. Maybe the male teachers like looking at her more than they care about propriety.
“Bag,” she shouts, running out into the hall, keys jingling from her grip.
I roll my eyes but snatch up both of our bags on the way out. Roquel has the car running by the time I get outside, twisting the bottom lock on her front door to lock it behind me as I march down the sagging front steps of the duplex. Popping the passenger door, I get in and drop our bags to the floor just as she’s finishing up one winged eye.
Despite the time on the dash, she takes care to do the second one before dropping her eyeliner pencil into the console and backing out. “I can’t believe we overslept,” she mutters, casting me a scowl. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
I blink back at her. “Probably because I overslept too,” I point out. Not that she seems to notice as she launches into an annoyed rant about how most teenagers require more sleep than adults and it’s just plain torture to expect us to be up at the ass crack of dawn when our brains aren’t fully developed or awake enough to learn. I shut my mouth and lean back, letting her voice lull me back into a semi-asleep state as she drives.
When the rattling Camry comes to a halt and I peek my eyes open to see the wash of early morning and the student parking lot through the windshield, I sigh in relief and reach for my belt. Only to realize that Roquel is quiet. I glance over and immediately stiffen.
“What’s wrong?”
Roquel sits in the driver’s seat, her face twisted in a grimace. Slowly, she turns to face me and sucks in a breath. “I…” She starts to talk only to pause and shake her head. Her eyebrows draw together, two black slants on pale skin, and she reaches up to shove an unruly lock of choppy hair back over her ear.
“I wanted to wake up early to talk to you,” she finally says. “But I…” She waves in an absent gesture. “You know.”
Frowning, I nod. “Yeah, what did you want to talk about?” I glance away from her to the groups and couplings of students passing the car as they make their way to the entrance to the school. Even if we made it on time, we’re far later than usual, and if she doesn’t spit out whatever it is, we actually will be tardy.
“My parents are coming back on Friday,” she blurts.
I swivel in my seat. “Your parents?”
She nods, biting down on her lower lip before releasing it just as quickly. “They don’t know that you’ve been staying at the house,” she admits. “I’m not sure if they’ll be okay with you staying if I tell them.”
It’s not what she says that stabs a deep wound into my chest, but it’s what she doesn’t say. Her parents are like everyone else in Silverwood—which means they’re not a fan of Donovans.
I swallow, feeling a tightness constrict my throat. “I-I can try to talk to them, of course,” she hurries to say, “but just in case, I wanted to give you time to … you know … maybe … find another place?” Sympathy drips from both her tone and her gaze.
There is nowhere else. Instead of reminding her of that fact, I adopt a brief smile. “It’s fine,” I tell her. “Friday is a few days away. I’m sure I’ll have a place to stay by then, and with all the extra shifts I’ve picked up at the Lounge, I’m sure I can have a decent deposit to put down.”
Roquel blows out a breath tinged with what I assume is relief and her brow eases. “Oh, good,” she says. “Yeah, okay.” Distantly the sound of the warning bell for first period rings and she curses, shutting off the car. “Fuck, we gotta hurry.”
I grab our bags and toss hers to her as we exit the car and make our way towards the building, splitting with a wave as she heads to her locker and I … just stand there. People pour around me, jostling me as students hurry for first period, bags slung over shoulders, cheap sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor of the main hall. My head feels heavy on my shoulders.
What am I doing? I wonder not for the first time. The longer I stand there, the less I’m jostled as the main hall empties of students and teachers wander to their classrooms to begin the day.
It isn’t until the second and final bell rings that I jolt back to myself and realize … I’m alone, and I’m late.
“Jules?” Blinking at my name, I turn in the direction of the softly feminine voice at my back to find Mads standing there, holding a stack of papers perched precariously in her arms. “What are you doing? First period already started.”
“I—” I don’t know how to tell her that I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, but the main hall feels like it’s closing in on me. Just like the night that I found Bran fucking Avery, my chest squeezes tight and a riot of emotions clambers against my insides, each one vying for dominance. Only, none of them can seem to rise above the others this time, which leaves me with an odd hollowness in my gut and nausea swirling around my stomach.
Her eyebrows draw down and she stares at me for a moment more. When I don’t offer her any sort of explanation for my just standing here, she seems to understand. “Why don’t you help me deliver these?” she offers, nodding down to the pile in her hands, and almost as soon as she does, the upper half of the papers slides to the side.
With a gasp, she attempts to lean in the opposite direction to keep the top half from falling. Unfortunately, it has the wrong effect and the papers slide over the side, scattering across the tiled floor.
“Fuck!”
The sound of her curse echoing around the empty hall makes me jolt. Her big blue eyes lift to meet mine, widening, and I have the distinct impression that if she didn’t still have some of the papers in her hands, she would have clapped a palm over her mouth. A snort escapes me, and I bite down on my lower lip to stop it from turning into a laugh.
“I…” The two of us look down at the pile at her feet. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before.”
She groans and I move forward, kneeling as she ducks down, and together, we start to gather up the documents and papers. “I don’t usually,” she admits. “Once I start, it’s hard to stop, and if my parents heard me…”
With a hiss, I yank my hand back as one of the papers slides across the pad of one finger, slicing right through the outer layer of skin. There’s no blood, but the damn thing hurts .
“Are you okay?” Mads’ soft question tells me she isn’t talking about the cut, but I pretend she is as I hurry to reach for the next collection of documents.
“Yeah,” I say, hauling several packets on top of one another and stacking them on my knees. “It’s just a paper cut.”
The sensation of eyes boring into me burns into the side of my face, but I ignore it in favor of finishing up our task. Once all the papers have been collected and distributed evenly between our two piles, we rise.
“Where are you taking these?” I ask.
“Front office,” she says, nodding down the main hall. “Gonna help?”
I nod and together, the two of us head off in the direction.
There are many things I like about Mads. Between her and Roquel, I think I actually prefer her. It’s not that I’m not grateful to Roquel and the push she’s given me as well as a place to stay for as long as she has, but Mads’ personality just seems to mesh well with my own.
In my old life at Silverwood Prep, I suspect Roquel would’ve been someone I’d hang out with but never trust. Mads, though… Mads is quiet and observant. She’s dangerous like that, but at least she’s real. Roquel is shallow and easy to understand and right now, I need predictable. Still, though, Mads lets me remain quiet and doesn’t push the way Roquel might—that is, if Roquel ever looked up from her phone or her reflection long enough to notice that the people around her aren’t as obsessed with themselves as she is—and I appreciate it.
The old bat of a woman that mans the front office looks up as we enter, and her eyes narrow on me. I don’t say a word, choosing, instead, to let Mads take the lead as she approaches.
“Hey, we were asked to bring these documents from Mr. Rogers’ office,” she says, voice bubbly and innocent. “Is there somewhere you’d like us to put them?”
Eyeing me with an open hostility that I’ve grown far too accustomed to, the secretary nods over to a rickety-looking table sitting against the wall just before you enter the back hall that leads towards Principal Long’s office. “Set them there, please,” she directs.
Mads smiles sweetly. “Thanks!” I trail her, and as soon as she drops her load onto the table, I do the same.
“Do you need a return pass?” the secretary asks, and I notice that she doesn’t look at me as she makes the offer.
Mads is either unaware or is great at ignoring people’s animosity because she doesn’t even let on that the woman appears anything other than helpful. “No, that’s alright,” she says. “Homeroom is about to end anyway, so we’ll just be on our way.”
It is? I glance at the clock stationed on the wall behind the secretary’s desk. To my surprise, she’s right, and we’ve got a few minutes until the next bell rings. How long had I stood in the front hall before she’d found me?
Mads hurries past me, snagging my arm with hers and hooking us together as she waves goodbye to the grouchy secretary and leads us both back out into the hall. Once we’re out of the line of sight of the old bat, she sighs and releases me from her hold, brushing her blond hair back over her shoulders before grimacing and reaching for a hairband at her wrist to tie it up.
“Alright,” she says. “Let’s go grab shit for next period before the bell rings, and you can tell me what the hell is going on with you.”
All that stomach-churning, gut-clenching anxiety returns. “There’s nothing going on with me.”
The arched eyebrow she sends my way tells me that I’m not getting away from the bullshit, and I blow out a breath. “Okay, yeah, there is,” I admit a second later, “but I’m not really in a place to talk about it.”
Finishing tightening her ponytail, she sighs. “Well, I guess as long as you know you can come to me about anything…” The fluttering blond waves swish against her nape, drawing my attention. “And I do mean anything. ” She pauses and glances back at me.
I groan. I know that look. “I do not want to talk about them ,” I tell her.
There’s so much shit going on in my life right now, but the Scorpion Kings are by far the worst part. They burned down my fucking apartment ! Now, I’m losing the last safe haven I have. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last at Roquel’s, and I have until the weekend to figure out a second place to live.
“Okay, okay,” Mads says placatingly, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “But if you ever do need to talk about them, you know I’m willing to listen, right?”
We turn the corner, heading down a short hallway towards our assigned lockers, and I give her a nod. “Yeah, I know, and I appreciate it. I’m just not…” in the right headspace? Ready to deal with the fact that less than an entire semester into my final year and I’ve got three psychopaths on my ass? In love with the idea of being homeless?
Answer: All of the above.
I shake myself and stop outside my own locker. Mads waits as I open it and step back to let the general mess of trash that’s made its way into the slots at the top—likely thanks to Megan and her minions—flutter to the floor before I reach for my books and trade them out.
“If you want to help me, you might tell me if you know any cheap places to rent nearby or that are available near a bus station,” I say as I toe aside what looks like a used tampon. Gross.
I slam the locker shut and spin the lock. When I turn back in her direction, Mads is looking down at the trash around my feet. “Is this still happening?” she asks, nudging a lollipop wrapper with the edge of her sneakered foot.
I shrug. “Looks like it. Now, rentals?”
Her eyes meet mine and she winces. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know many places—but the women’s shelter on main might have some spots available. I volunteer there sometimes. They do it on a nightly basis, though, and they have a curfew for those staying.”
I grimace. It’s not the best place, but it’s somewhere I suppose. I guess it’s better, though, that most of my shit is at Nolan’s place still and all I really have is what I can fit into my current backpack and the duffle I’d picked up from Goodwill.
“Thanks,” I say, “I’ll check it out.”
Mads bites her lip as she starts down the hall towards her own locker and I follow. “I’d offer to let you stay with me, but…”
Her words drift off, but she doesn’t need to explain. Her parents . I shrug as we pause by her locker and she opens it—without the same fiasco as my own. “Don’t worry about it,” I assure her. “I can always rent out that motel over by the Veil.”
Her eyes whip towards me. “Is there even a bus stop over that way?” she asks.
“Probably,” I hedge. The real answer, though, is a big fat no—well, sort of. The closest bus stop is a good mile away, but at least I’ll have a bed and privacy.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Mads chews at her lips as she pulls out a few books and holds them against her hip as she digs around for a pouch of pencils and pens. “The Veil is in a shady area, and I’m pretty sure some of the girls that work there…work at the motel too.”
My lips twitch. “That’s the most graceful way I’ve heard anyone call a stripper a whore,” I comment.
She flushes. “That’s not what I said!”
“Yeah, okay.” Liar . At my tone, she shoots me a look of exasperation, and I can’t help but grin back. Teasing her, I find, is way easier than actually focusing on the earlier emotions that are still lingering in my belly.
My phone buzzes against the inside of my bra and I withdraw it only to scowl.
GIO: Where are you?
GIO: Can we talk?
I would’ve expected Lex to turn off the phone when I shut off the tracking, but he hasn’t. And apparently, I’m either really bad at figuring out how to block them or Lex somehow knows how to actually access the damn thing remotely and unblock them all, but no one can do that… right?
“Hey, do you know how to block a number on this thing?” I ask instead of letting myself linger on the thought. I flip the phone around and show it to Mads.
Her eyes widen and she reaches for the phone, shifting her stuff to her other hip as she holds it all with one hand. “It should be relatively easy,” she murmurs swiping across the screen.
“I think I’m bad at it,” I confess.
"How can you be bad at blocking someone?” Mads snorts and shakes her head as she taps the screen a few times.
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I swear to fuck I’ve done this a billion times by now and it never seems to stick. Maybe I didn’t save it right?”
“Well, I just saved it, so you should be good.” Mads hands my phone back over, and when it goes blessedly silent in my hand—no more buzzing—I sigh in relief.
“Thanks.”
With a grin, she nudges my shoulder with hers and slaps her locker shut. “See you at work later?”
“Yeah.” I shove the phone back into my bra as I adjust the strap of my backpack. The bell signaling the end of homeroom rings and doors begin to open as students spill into the hall.
Mads and I wave goodbye and go our respective ways. By the time I reach my next class, however, the phone in my bra is buzzing again. With a repressed snarl, I rip it out, earning a look from one of the jocks that sits down next to me, and find that whatever Mads had done also hadn’t taken.
LEX: Stop trying to block us.
Murderous rage swarms me. He’s definitely doing something to my damn phone.
JULIET: Stop fucking talking to me then.
LEX: Never gonna happen, baby. See you in class.
I contemplate the phone in my hand after his responding text comes through on the heels of my own. Maybe it’s time to cut my losses and get rid of this thing—I made it before without a phone, I don’t really need it anymore.
Then again, I’d had an apartment and a computer—both of which are out of reach to me now. So, instead, I switch it from vibration to silent and shove it into my backpack. All of my choices are evaporating from my life, disappearing like smoke, and there’s nothing I can do.