Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
With Hunter out of the picture and my body as bruised as the bananas I swiped from the dining hall, I take the weekend to catch up on sleep—a luxury I haven’t been able to afford since the group home. Even without an alarm, my body jolts awake at 5:00 a.m. on Monday, the sky still pitch-black. Instead of trudging to the bathroom, I roll over and let my heavy eyes slip closed again. When my alarm eventually does go off, the sky is still a dark, starless sea.
It was the first night she didn’t come to me in my dreams. Part of me is grateful—I don’t want to admit that my body isn’t as strong as I need it to be, but years of twelve-hour shifts add up. Throw an acid trip in the mix and you have a perfect recipe for a full-body meltdown. And part of me hates it—that another piece of her is starting to slip away from me. There are only so many left, and I want to hold them tight until they become a part of me.
Even the ones that haunt me.
I still haven’t heard anything from Izzy, but I have to keep moving on my plan. Follow up on the rest of my leads until one of them turns into something concrete. The looks Poppy shot Hunter from over my shoulder, pretending she can’t see me in her way. The bite mark I left behind on Gabe’s hand, fighting him off over something I still can’t remember. Poppy is easy enough. I just need to find a way to get her alone again and distract her long enough to finish going through her phone. Gabe is a tougher nut to crack. Even before whatever happened between us Friday night, he could barely look at me without snarling—and the feeling’s mutual. There’s no way he’s letting me get close enough to him to find anything useful.
Thankfully, I don’t need an invitation to get into his private spaces. Poppy’s already brought me into hers once, it shouldn’t be hard to get her to let me in again.
Problem is, they’re pretending I don’t exist.
While the rest of our class has become consumed with whispering about me and my bruised knuckles and when and where and what I did to Hunter, Poppy and Gabe have mastered the art of ignoring me. I avoided them in the cafeteria this morning, on account of them sitting with Hunter, but by fourth period it’s clear that I didn’t need to avoid them at all—they were taking care of that on their own.
“Look alive, people,” Mrs. Sutherland, the AP Chemistry teacher, announces as Poppy swiftly avoids having to face me by tossing today’s assignment over her shoulder. Across the room, Gabe doesn’t so much as glance my way. “Your first test on Wednesday will determine whether you’re really ready for this class level.” She pauses to tap her knuckles against the board. “Don’t let it sneak up on you.”
Once the bell rings, I shove the assignment and the thought of the exam to the bottom of my bag. I thought I’d be out of here before I had to put in any real kind of effort. Doing homework is one thing, but tests are an entire other ball game I’m not prepared for. I’m a shit test taker as it is, and it doesn’t help that this chemistry textbook might as well be written in hieroglyphics.
Besides, I have bigger things to worry about. Like how the hell I’m going to get anything else out of Poppy and Gabe now that they’re ignoring me.
Any nagging worries about tests, homework, or my so-called “friends” fade once I catch sight of a familiar face waiting by the door. Charlisa, in another gray turtleneck and pencil skirt combo, steps into my path before I can even think about making a run for it.
“Good morning, Solina.”
Seeing her again should be a good thing. A chance to try to get a peek at some of the other files in her office. But the tight lines of her smile and the new twinge in her voice set me on edge.
“Am I in trouble?” I blurt out.
She shakes her head. “No.”
The amount of time it takes her to answer says otherwise.
Without another word, she turns on her heels and gestures for me to follow. We head back to her office in silence. The water cooler burbles when we walk past it, the Out of Order sign gone.
Sweat beads along my forehead by the time I close her office door behind me. She waits until we’re both seated to speak up again, folding her hands primly on top of her much tidier desk. No stray files in sight. “How has your first week back been so far?”
Did she really bring me all the way up here to ask me about my day? “Fine. Busy.”
“That’s good to hear.” Her eyes drift down to a slip of paper beside her clasped hands. Something I can’t make out scrawled in bright red pen. “I understand that there was an … incident … between you and Mr. Sinclair over the weekend.”
With the way word spreads around here, it shouldn’t be surprising that it got back to the faculty by now, but I’d figured they had better things to worry about.
I plead the fifth, crossing my arms and keeping my head down like I have all day. She doesn’t need me to fill in the blanks. The bruises on Hunter’s face and the cuts on my knuckles do that for me.
“Solina …”
I don’t respond.
“You’re on a good path here. Your grades are great, top of your class. You’re still a very strong candidate for the Hightower Fellowship.”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of the scholarship. A twinge of pride swells through me at the thought of Solina taking home the Hightower Fellowship. The last memory of her time at Kingswood being her crowned as the best. But that’s wishful thinking. Even if I wanted to, there’s no way I could make it through the rest of the semester without tanking her GPA. Her story here ends with me—whenever, however I leave.
Still, just because Solina’s gone doesn’t mean I can’t be proud of her. Of who she could’ve been.
Charlisa sighs, the stern fa c ade chipping away as she takes off her glasses. “But this could be very serious, Solina. Hunter has grounds to press charges.”
That gets my attention. I peek up at her, careful not to let the threat get to me. Hunter can do his worst. His family may be loaded, but even the precious Sinclairs can’t take a dead girl to court.
“He started it,” I mutter, even if it’s not entirely true. Sure, I’d kissed him first, but he’s the one who made me feel like I had to protect myself. “I told him I wanted to stop, and he didn’t.”
Charlisa swallows hard, the sound of it audible even from across the desk. Something inside her softens, her eyes glazing over as she glances down at the slip of paper. She sniffs, exhaling through her mouth as she lifts her head to look up at the ceiling.
“Please, don’t go down this road again.” Her voice has changed. No more gentle, soothing melody. There’s a tremor to it, as if she’s holding back tears. A sound I know well. “I know, I know it’s frustrating. But …” When she looks at me, her mask is back in place. Lips pressed into that same tight line. “There’s not much else we’re going to be able to do.”
How many times do I have to hear that same bullshit excuse? If the board of trustees can’t do anything, if a guidance counselor can’t do anything, if the goddamn cops can’t do anything, then who can?
Why am I the only person willing to try?
“What was I supposed to do?” One question, looking for a thousand answers. What was I supposed to do when Solina told me she wanted to drop out? What was I supposed to do when she ran away? What was I supposed to do when I found her?
What am I supposed to do now, when no one seems to care?
“I suggest you apologize. Make amends with him and then try to keep your distance until the end of the school year.”
Why do I have to apologize? A sucker punch barely scratches the surface of what Hunter deserved. That night was about him not knowing how to take no for an answer. A repeat of the same song and dance he’d done with Solina.
“What if I don’t want to?”
Charlisa sighs again, pressing her face into her hands. “Then we appeal to the board a second time. Worst case, we get the same answer as before. Best case, they open an investigation.” Her hands fall back down to the desk with a thunk , her eyes focused on me with an intensity that makes me warm under my collar. “Which puts you in the spotlight. They’ll ask you questions that’ll make you uncomfortable. Make you go through everything over and over and over again until it feels like you’re reliving it. No one saw what happened between you two, which means it’s your word against his.”
Her voice wavers, tears wetting the corners of her eyes as she finally cracks.
“And people like him will never be the villain.”