27. Nim
Chapter 27
Nim
”Nim, dear. One moment please,” Ms. Carling calls out as I try to slip past her desk without being noticed.
Damn it.
“Yeah?” I’m starting to understand why other girls carry around makeup compacts and shit. I have no idea what state my face is in. It felt like I was back there for an hour, crying myself a goddamn pity river.
But you know what? I feel better now. A bit fuzzy around the edges, sure, but that numb feeling I’ve been carrying with me for so long feels like it’s finally going away.
I haven’t felt this furious in a long time.
It’s fantastic.
I guess Ms. Carling’s vision is really bad, because she squints at me over the top of her glasses but doesn’t remark on my appearance. Instead, she slides a note over the desk. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I look at the names on the paper and my heart comes to a stop. “What is this?” My voice shakes, and Ms. Carling frowns at me.
“Tutors, dear.”
I almost scrunch up the paper and toss it back at her. Almost. But when I look at her, it doesn’t seem like she’s in on this motherfucking cosmic joke the universe is playing at my expense. She just looks...concerned.
Pushing back my shoulders, I give her a wide—if slightly tremulous—smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“There’s another student, but he’s a bit busy. He said he could help out about one hour a week. He’s a senior here, Knox?—”
“Oh, I know him,” I cut in, sounding way too fucking jolly. I hold up the paper, folding it methodically before putting it in my blazer pocket. “Thank you, Ms. Carling. For this.” I pat my pocket. “For everything. I really do appreciate it.”
“It’s my pleasure, dear,” Carling says, but with a touch of uneasiness like she’s not quite understanding the difference between my voice and what’s going on with my face.
I’m not surprised. I don’t know whether I want to laugh or start crying again.
No. No more tears. I’m done with that shit.
I threw a pity party and no one even bothered attending. So now, now it’s time for action.
Weirdly, I don’t get the sense I’m being followed as I get on with my day. I have one more class—English lit, thank God—but that’s later this afternoon.
I check my room, but Romi isn’t there. Making a mental note to grab her phone number the next time I see her, I go and draw myself a bath. I’m just about to doze off in the tub when I hear the bedroom door open.
“Romi? Can I speak to you?” I stand, water rushing down my body like a waterfall, and then pause. Why isn’t she answering me? “Romi?”
Oh my God...what if it isn’t her? I snatch a towel from the handrail and quickly wrap it around my body, staring at the door like a snake could slither under it at any second.
“Romi?”
My heart starts pounding even harder. Shit, I have nothing to defend myself with in here unless I can wedge the cover off the toilet’s water tank. I’ve seen bad guys being taken down like that in more than one movie. There’s gotta be at least a sprinkle of truth to that, right?
I never realized before, but there’s no lock on the bathroom door. This seems to be a massive oversight, but I guess it’s too late to complain. So what do I do? Wait for them to come inside, or open the door and end this now?
The longer I stand and try to figure out what to do, the harder my heart pounds. I’m pretty sure I’m seconds away from a heart attack.
Fuck this.
Action , not reaction.
I rush over to the door, grab the handle, and pull it open. I fully expect to see the Serpents outside—Knox on my bed, casual with one leg up as he flips through the notebook where I wrote down all the things I could remember about the murder. Silas leaning against the wall, looking pissed off that I made them wait. And Mason in the middle of the floor, tossing a football up and down because that’s what footballers do when they’re bored, right?
Instead, I see Romi lying on her bed, a romance book in one hand and a popsicle in the other.
She’s wearing her earbuds, which explains everything. And she’s so into her book that I walk right up to her and tug an earbud from her ear before she looks at me.
“What?” she asks, brown eyes wide.
“What are you thinking, skulking around like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry for living,” she mutters, and then gives me a double take as she’s about to go back to her reading. “Have you been crying?”
I turn my back on her, going back into the bathroom to fetch my things. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I didn’t mean anything?—”
“Forget about it.” I dress in my school uniform again and perch at the foot of my bed as I start brushing my hair. Now that I have to do this every day, it’s actually become easier. Not that I’ll ever admit that out loud, especially to Romi. I’ll never forget her expression when she tried to brush my hair for the first time: part horror, part amazement.
“So...I have to tell you something,” I say.
Romi frowns, marking her place in the book with a finger. “Sounds serious.”
“It is. And...you’re probably not going to believe me.” I wince as my brush snags on a tangle. How did it even get there?
“So why tell me?”
“Because I have to tell someone before I lose my fucking mind. And...I need your help.”
“I’m not a psychology major,” she says, her uneasy smile a testament to how uncomfortable this conversation is making her.
Wait for it, Romi. It’s only getting worse.
“So…my parents aren’t alive anymore.”
Romi’s eyes go wide, but I hold up a hand before she can say anything.
“They were killed in a rockslide there in...what’s it called? Bug Pass or something?”
“Bug Ash Pass?” Romi’s frown deepens. “Oh my God, that road is terrible. We had some tourists who died?—”
“What, three months ago? Yeah, those were my parents.”
She stares at me, her mouth trembling. “I had no idea.”
“Of course not,” I wave my hand, my tone a lot more glib than what I feel. Something happened back there in the library. I think I went straight from denial to anger. “But this is all back story. Bear with me. So, they were here that night to attend their reunion.”
“Oh, yes, I remember.” Romi brightens a little, and then almost seems apologetic for lightening the mood. “My parents went to that too.”
“Our parents were in the same class?”
“I guess so.” Romi shrugs, and then frowns. “What are—were—your parents’ names?”
“Ruth and Oscar.”
She shakes her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
As if she’d remember some random people her parents might have been friends with twenty-odd years ago. “Anyway...that day...” I swallow hard, putting my brush down on the bed. Why is this so difficult? “That day I went to the Silverash Forest for a walk.”
Romi blinks expectantly at me. “Why there?”
I shrug. “I was sick of waiting in the car with my parents. Anyway, I saw something out there.”
Romi sits and waits.
“I witnessed a murder, Romi.”
Her face flinches, then she gives me a faint smile. “Why does this sound like the start of a really bad joke?”
“It’s not. I’m being serious.” I swipe my tongue over suddenly dry lips. “There was a guy dressed in camo. He had a dog and a rifle. I saw him being chopped up.”
I’m making a mess of this. Why aren’t my words coming out right?
“Chopped up?” Romi gives me an incredulous frown. “Like...in pieces?”
“Well, no. They just?—”
“They?” Romi’s eyes flash wide. “Like a gang?” That seems to scare her more than the fact that someone was killed.
I lick my lips again. “Romi, I swear, I’m not making this up.”
She tosses her book aside, scrambling until she’s sitting cross-legged. “Nim, who?” Her voice is almost a whisper. “Tell me.”
“The Serpents.”
When she says nothing, does nothing, I add, “Knox, Silas?—”
“You saw them chop someone up?” She blinks a few times. “I...why...but who?”
“I don’t know. I told you, he was all covered in camo.”
She leans back a little like she’s trying to put me into focus. “Nim...this isn’t funny.”
“Am I laughing?” Although, honestly, I’m literally suppressing a manic cackle right now. I’ve never been this nervous in my life. Romi is my only pseudo-friend in this place, and she’s terrified of the Serpents. I’m taking a risk alienating my only ally for a story so ridiculous, I should be selling the movie rights on it.
“Why would they do that?”
“Fucked if I know.”
“How do you know it was them?”
“They weren’t covered up like the guy they killed. I think...I have a feeling they weren’t expecting anyone else to be there.”
Romi puts one hand over her mouth, the other over her belly. “It makes no sense,” she mumbles through her fingers. “They’re jerks, but they’re not...killers.”
“Well unless they all have identical twins...Romi, I know what I saw.”
“But I mean, are you sure it was them? Maybe it looked like them from a distance?—”
This is the part I was dreading more than anything else. “No, Romi. I know it was them, because they were right in my fucking face. They saw me. They...they threatened me.” I wave a hand, gulping down air into lungs that feel petrified with lack of use. “That’s why they’re targeting me. It’s not because I’m new. It’s because I witnessed them murdering someone in cold blood.”
“What...what did the sheriff say?” Romi asks, her hand still over her mouth. Well, at least she believes me. But I have a feeling she’s trying to convince herself that I’m talking shit.
Oh no, wait. This is the part I was dreading. “I didn’t go to the sheriff.”
Yup, there it is. In an instant, the confusion and fear on her face are replaced with incredulity and suspicion. “You didn’t go to the sheriff,” she repeats woodenly.
I go over in a rush, dropping to my knees in front of her bed and reaching over to touch her knee. “I wanted to, Romi, I did. But fuck, they scared the shit out of me, okay? They found my driver’s license, and they said they’d kill me if I ever said anything.”
She turns her face a little to the side, but her eyes remain locked on mine. Big, and brown, and wary as a deer watching a shadow skulk through the woods. Not sure if it’s another deer or a wolf and ready to bound away if it feels threatened.
“I was going to tell my parents the next morning...but then I got a call from the sheriff’s department telling me about the accident.”
“And then you told them about the murder?” she whispers.
I shake my head, biting down on my bottom lip. “I couldn’t Romi. I...I was in shock, I think. Or trying to tell myself I’d imagined it.”
“Hadn’t you?”
“No.” I take a deep breath and slowly stand. “They made sure I wouldn’t forget.”
She opens her mouth, but before she can speak I twist my leg out and inch up the hem of my skirt, showing her the pink S-shaped scar on my thigh. “They did this to me,” I murmur. “And they promised to do worse if I ever told anyone.”
“Oh my God, Nim.” Romi reaches out, and then pulls her hand back, curling it into a fist and shoving it into her lap. “Why are you telling me this?”
I stare at her for a long minute as I start nibbling at my lip again. “I need your help.”