Chapter 9
SAGE
I eat lunch with Juliet every day and don’t really talk to anyone else.
It feels weird not being social, to be honest. I’ve somehow paired myself with the school outcast, making me avoidable as well.
I go home to my grandmother’s after my last class every day, though, unlike everyone else, who spend all their time on the university grounds.
I wonder if any of them go home to see their parents, or the rest of their family, throughout the week, or does everyone just stay here?
The shiny new toy stares calmed down around day three, and I’m no longer the thing to whisper about, which has given me the opportunity to people-watch and observe behaviors from the sidelines while simultaneously concentrating on my studies.
I underestimated how different things would be here compared to back in California, but I feel fucking different here too.
I’m quiet, focused, antisocial. A homebody.
Gone is the girl who once spent her time laughing and playing with friends, the girl whose smile lit up a room because it was so joyful and energized, the life of the party.
Goodbye, Queen Bee. Hello, Shadow in the Halls.
The calls and messages from my friends have thinned, even from Sam, making me feel like last night’s leftovers that got shoved to the back of the fridge, never to be touched again.
Depression sneaks up on me at night, crawling under my covers to spoon me in place of any rest. My mind is too preoccupied with the misery that I can’t get to sleep.
I’m plagued with memories of my parents, my old life, my old friends—desperate to blink and wake up from this nightmare, transport back to LA, and return to my real life.
I ache for my mother’s hug, my father’s support, my friends’ attention, the California sun.
I used to hold such insignificant things close to heart. I was the head cheerleader, popular, social butterfly. I dated the equivalent of myself too: the football players, the guys who know they’re hot shit.
But here? In Blackmore? I’m nothing.
I’m nobody. I blend into the background like a little doll waiting for someone to pick me up off the shelf to play.
But I wonder, late at night, when my eyes have run dry and my limbs ache with unslept hours, do I want to be somebody here?
Do I want to exist in a town that was forced upon me, instead of a life I’ve chosen for myself?
I went from a place where I was taught to believe was mine, to a place where nobody else wants me, and there’s something so fucking disheartening about that.
I want to be me. I want to dig deep and figure out who Sage Lindman really is underneath it all.
“Are we the type of friends who hang out on the weekend?”
Juliet’s voice pulls my attention from the lunch I’ve been picking at instead of eating, and I give her a look fill with amusement. “What?”
She scrunches up her face. “Hang out. You and me. Tonight, maybe.”
I laugh. “Sure, what do you want to do?”
“Uhh...” She thinks, dropping her elbow to the table so she can hold her head up. “We could go to a party or something.”
“A party?” I drop my mouth open in faux disbelief. “You?”
She rolls her eyes, her nostrils flaring. “Never mind.”
“How are we supposed to find a party? We don’t have any friends.”
She snorts. “I forget that you’re not from here sometimes. There’s only one place you go to party at Blackmore University, Sage, and that’s the cemetery.”
My eyes go wide. “The cemetery?!”
Juliet chuckles, stabbing her food with her fork again. “Buckle up, buttercup. We’re going to party with the ghosts of Blackmore past.”
I stare at myself in the mirror, sighing when I realize how I even look different now.
Instead of getting completely dolled up, I decided to wrap my hair into a bun and let little wisps curl around my face to frame my features.
I don’t remember a single time in LA that I would’ve ever considered wearing my hair up for a night out.
It was always curls, extensions, and glam.
There’s a twinge of sadness in my gut when I think about how much effort was put into things before, especially since it all slipped away so easily and ended up meaning nothing in the end.
I mean, it mattered to me at the time—but now, I just don’t give a shit.
I’m feeling anxious, but at the same time, oddly carefree. Like I could stop a bullet with my bare hands or something, like I’m unstoppable. If I can get through the last month of my life, what can really hurt me?
Numb. That’s the word.
Numb to the pain, desperate for something to penetrate the surface of my exterior and finally show me that I can feel again.
“You goin’ out, Sage?” My grandmother’s voice has me turning around to where she’s standing in my doorway, and I slip my feet into a pair of high-top sneakers as I meet her gaze.
“Yeah, Juliet invited me to hang out, if that’s okay?”
My grandmother smiles at me, nodding. “If y’all end up goin’ down to those crypts, you be careful, alright? Keep your wits about you. Blackmore ain’t all that it seems on the surface.” She cocks her eyebrow. “You hear me?”
“Gran, I’m from LA, I can handle anything. Don’t worry about me, I’m a smart girl.” I wink at her. “How do you know about the parties down in the cemetery?”
She chuckles as she comes closer, reaching out a hand to stroke my hair. “Ain’t much that gets by me, Sage. I grew up here, too; not much has changed since I was a girl.”
“Wasn’t the cemetery built when Blackmore was founded? Where did you guys sit back in the 1800s when it was empty?” I grin, teasing her.
She clicks her tongue. “You hush now, girl. I ain’t that old.”
I laugh, but the doorbell ringing interrupts our playful moment, making my grandmother pull away from me and turn to the door.
“That must be your friend. I’ll let her in.” She casts another glance at me before she leaves my sight. “You be careful tonight, Sage.”
Her ominous tone has me wanting to grasp for information, like she’s hinting at something that I’m not quite catching onto. It’s like everyone in Blackmore has their own secrets, and my grandmother seems to as well.
I shake off the chills raking over my skin, eager to let loose and enjoy the night ahead.
“Hey, hey,” Juliet says as she walks through my bedroom door. I bend down to tuck in the laces of my shoes, giving her a smile.
I like Juliet, although she’s the complete opposite of everyone I knew in California.
She’s nothing like the people I surrounded myself with—she’s reserved, quieter, and completely content with being alone.
I can tell she has somewhat of a dark past, with the way she moves around the hallways and avoids any unnecessary communication with peers, and curiosity snakes its way through me when I ponder what could possibly be inside her head.
She sighs as she plops on my bed, pulling her bag onto her lap. “My mom wasn’t home, so I just left a note that I was staying at a friend’s—not that she’ll notice.”
My eyebrows pull down as I straighten. I wonder why she still lives at home instead of in the dorms like almost everyone else, but I figure I shouldn’t pry.
This is the first time she’s mentioned a parent, or her life outside of school, and the malice and defeat that laces her tone has me curious but hesitant to push for information.
Maybe her home life isn’t great; maybe she doesn’t get along with her mom or something.
I want to double over at the thought, my heart aching as I think of my own mother. I would give anything to have one more conversation with her. Hell, even a mother-daughter argument would be soul-soothing at this point.
“You can always come back here and sleep over. My grandmother won’t mind,” I offer, and when she smiles at me in gratitude, I feel warm.
She pulls her flask from her bag, then offers it to me. “Pregame?”
My lips turn up as I grab the flask, eager for some liquid courage before I wander into a night I’ll be navigating blindly. Maybe something strong will keep my depression at bay.
I gulp a generous mouthful of the liquor, grimacing at the burn the vodka creates going down my throat.
Once I’ve cleared my throat, I hand Juliet the flask back. “Who do you think will be there tonight?”
I shrug on a cropped denim jacket, just in case it’s cold, and it pairs well with the black dress I chose.
The mesh at the bottom of the skirt kisses my thighs just above my knee, giving me some length but still showing enough skin that I might have the chance to pull someone tonight if I end up wanting to.
“Pretty much everyone,” Juliet answers, taking a sip from the flask.
“The Hallows Boys?” I question as I turn to my vanity to grab my phone, unable to look her in the eye as I ask.
She groans, “Not you, too!”
I spin around to look at her, making a disgusted face. “No, definitely not. Just curious.”
Narrowing her eyes at me, she hums between her lips. I laugh, taking a step toward her to grab her hand and pull her up off the bed. “Let’s go, drama queen. Time to see how hard BU parties.”
She stands, grinning at me as she hands me the flask for one more shot. When I finally pull off the lip of the flask, I blow out a long breath as I groan loudly. “Gross.”
My new friend laughs. “Keep going, you’ll need it. Blackmore’s darkness takes prisoners.”
We walk the five minutes to the cemetery, sipping from the flask the whole way.
Music booms through the graveyard so loudly we can hear it from the street, and the bass sends a burst of adrenaline through me as it shakes all the way into my chest. I scan through the grounds as we walk across the grass, dodging people and littered cups, captivated by the silhouettes of people dancing and partying.