9. Drake #2
We returned to school with a shared ghost—several, in fact. It solidified our connection, our friendship. Julian and I spoke the silent language that only children born into our world understood. It certainly wasn’t as fun as our Italian classes.
Time moved in a rapid blur around me, dragging me along from one event to the next. For months I forgot about my mistakes, how they piled up and linked together, slowly wrapping around my ankle in preparation to drag me under. Dad was right that it all became easier when you didn’t dwell.
Blue eyes continued haunting me. Her voice in classes answering questions rang in my ears.
For the first time, I noticed the pleasing lilt in her voice and the succinct way she solved problems. I realized she completed all her homework early and turned everything in before the deadline.
And I’d be a fool not to pick up on the subtle shift in our year’s hierarchy.
Helen Montgomery was almost royalty with the lineage she descended from.
On both sides of her family, she had powerful connections.
Other students and their families knew that, and the closer we marched to graduation, the clearer the lines became.
In our final two years, whispers of alliances rose like wisps of fog on a spring morning.
St. Henry’s remained neutral ground, but the connections we made there would last forever.
Monty’s friend group expanded to some of the other nerds in our year.
I tried not to pay attention to her little study groups and the way she extended a helping hand to anyone who asked.
Even those who didn’t deserve her assistance, people who spoke against her alongside me in the past. But she forgave, and she beamed at them, happy to help because she was selfless like that.
At every turn, I resisted approaching her. Too busy, too tired, too inconsequential, I convinced myself. It wouldn’t change anything now if I bullied her, and really, hadn’t I hurt her enough to prove the point?
She knew we were enemies. I knew we were enemies—a fact I hammered into my skull relentlessly each time I caught her smiling at someone else’s jokes and a knife twisted through my chest. I only had that ache in my chest because I hated her and didn’t want to see her smile.
Not because she looked like the fucking sun rising on the darkest night of the year, no.
Barely two months after the Christmas break, my discipline faltered.
The school threw a Valentine’s dance for the upper classes.
At first, I was content enough to sip on the drinks Julian snuck in and dance.
Until the girls swarming me with their sticky hands and red painted nails grew irritating.
Any teenage boy should have been more than thrilled to have girls fawning over him for a dance.
But they were all so vapid, so empty-headed. It was hardly a challenge.
My fourth mistake that set the groundwork for my fifth arose when I slipped unnoticed from the dance.
I patted my coat pocket, ensuring my flask remained in place before heading in search of a silent alcove to drink in peace.
Perhaps if I got drunk enough, I’d sleep without dreaming, without remembering the blood.
The gymnasium hosting the dance sat around the corner from the library and cafeteria. Half the school dancing the night away meant that the library should be empty, secluded enough for me to sink into the darkness and drown myself in cheap liquor.
No one locked the library door, and I snuck in easily.
With the lights off, I briefly paused to admire the beams of silvery moonlight from the towering windows shining on the tall shelves.
I pulled the flask from my pocket, sipping idly and relishing the deserved burn as I meandered aimlessly through the stacks, inhaling the scent of books.
Paper shuffling in a back corner hijacked my senses. Awareness shot me through, suddenly alert and shifting into my training. My head swiveled and my eyes hunted for potential threats.
I jolted to a stop at the back of the library, possessed by the sight of her sitting alone at the furthest corner table. Low light from a table lamp highlighted her in a golden glow.
I swallowed at the sight of her, looking through alcohol-tinged vision at the girl bathed in warm, inviting light.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but even though it was dark, and the library was vast and empty, she filled the space with a radiating warmth—a warmth I didn’t deserve to bask in.
There was a small quirk to her lips, amused at whatever she read, while happily ignorant of my gaze.
All the darkness of the library shrank back, not brave enough to encroach on her light.
The silence, filled with her muffled laugh, struck me, bewitched me.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but she was a beacon, a light at the end of a narrowing, claustrophobic tunnel.
And I couldn’t help but think that if I was spat out on the other end, I wouldn’t mind stumbling into her.
Perhaps she’d see me as worthy of forgiveness as she had the others.
Maybe she wouldn’t see the blood on my hands, and she’d embrace me.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but my legs carried me forward, approaching her at the table.
For a long time, she didn’t look up, unaware of my presence as she flipped through her book, alone in the library while a party raged around the corner.
Isolated, happier alone, perhaps because I’d done that to her.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but a pang of guilt snapped in my chest at the thought. I swallowed roughly, and her head jerked up at the dry click in my throat.
Helen Montgomery’s wild hair was piled atop her head, a few wiry strands falling loose to frame her face.
In that low, yellow light, standing closer than I’d dared in a long time, I spotted the sparse freckles scattered across her nose.
Her lips popped open as she gaped at me, eyes wide and startled like a blue-eyed deer in headlights.
The vulnerability of a wounded animal lifted off her shoulders, replaced with a recent guardedness.
It was a version of Monty unfamiliar to me, growing stronger due to my lack of interaction tearing her down, I supposed.
Add those defense classes she’d begun mastering, and a new spark of confidence lit up in her eyes.
No longer cowed into playing the victim under my thumb, she’d found a spine. A large part of me was glad to see it.
Perhaps she would survive in our world after all.
Her features smoothed, shifting into a reserved mask. Though it didn’t hide the fluttering pulse in her throat and the aggravated blush blooming on her cheeks. She sniffed, turning her eyes back to her book.
“You know there’s a party you’re missing,” I said, surprised at the rasp in my throat.
Monty flinched, expecting a verbal onslaught. When I remained silent, she uncoiled her muscles and gave me her attention again.
Good, I thought. Look at me. Please look at me. Wash my sins away with the cleansing waters in your blue eyes and shine your light on me. Let me bask in it.
A sneer that didn’t quite fit her delicate features twisted her face. Our eyes locked and my heart skipped a beat, probably from the alcohol.
“And I’m sure the girl you’re hoping to sleep with tonight is helplessly searching for you at the same dance you’re not at,” she shot back. “You’ll get in trouble if a teacher finds you here.”
“I’m sure I could say the same for you.” The thought of Monty getting in trouble almost thrilled me. She was too perfect for that.
Even though she was sitting at the table beneath me, she managed to look down her pert little nose at me. “I have express permission to be here, thank you very much.”