Chapter 61
THE JASPER FALLS MEMORIAL'S HALLS aren't busy this time of day. It's early morning and the trip to Brent's hospital room on the second floor is a quick one.
When I step inside the room, in which there is one other patient fast asleep, the two beds separated by light blue antimicrobial curtains, Brent is lying on his back in a hospital garb.
A blanket is strewn over his body, stopping at his waist.
He's resting, eyes closed, and head turned toward the window where the curtains have been pulled back allowing sunlight to stream in.
His breathing is steady, the rise and fall of his chest consistent that he might have been asleep.
Instead, his eyes crack open and he turns to look at me hearing my approaching footsteps and the swish of the curtain when I shift it around.
The neckline of the garb moves, exposing the top of the plasters and bandages that cover his torso beneath.
This morning, Sky left early to freshen up. He'll pick me up here at the hospital before we head to Ashton's. According to what he's told me, Ashton and Dale worked out an agreement: As compensation for the damaged fence, we'll repair it ourselves, bring the materials and tools that are required.
I hitched a ride with Dad and left him in his office shortly after we arrived.
"What're you doing here?" Brent hardly moves.
He gives no indication of sitting up to talk, not that I expect him to when he's injured.
Instead, he keeps his glare grounded on me, gauging every move I make with lingering suspicion.
His glare sharpens when I step closer. I halt, recognizing the boundary.
We're no longer friends. I made that perfectly clear.
The edge to his tone – both accusatory and condescending – immediately puts up my defenses.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs and winces. "We're not friends. I assumed you'd be busy with your new friends." I don't miss the bitterness or the flash of betrayal across his face.
"I came to see how you're doing. If you're going to be an asshole, maybe I shouldn't have."
Brent's features even out, a mask of blankness slipping down. "Is that what you came for, in place of your boyfriend? You weren't the one who put me here."
I haven't said anything about the nature of my relationship with Sky but considering Blake's proclivity to be in everyone's business and use it against them, I wouldn't be shocked if Brent heard about it from him.
Or maybe he's figured it out himself. Regardless of what he wants people to believe about him, Brent isn't stupid.
There's no point in denying my relationship if he already knows.
"Maybe. Maybe I came to apologize on his behalf."
Brent raises an eyebrow and laughs. He winces, pressing a hand to his chest where his wounds are bandaged. "Why? Is he too much of a coward to face me himself?"
"Considering your reaction to him at the party, he didn't think you'd want to see him."
Brent sits up. He winces, grunting against the pain of his injuries. Soon enough, he's managed to adjust himself in relative comfort and pins his heated glare on me once more.
"Damn fucking right, Jace. He speared me through a fucking fence –"
"He's sorry. That's why he brought you here himself and paid your medical bills."
Brent glares, his mouth twisting angrily. "So what? That means all's forgiven?"
"No, but –"
"But nothing!" he snaps, his voice cutting through the quietness of the hospital room like a sharp blade. Heavy silence befalls the room and then a scoff of accusing derision. "You defend him so passionately."
"What's your problem with him? You've never liked him."
"None of your fucking business, asshole," he fires. "You lost the right to know anything about me when you chose that fucker."
Now it's my turn to get angry but I shove the venomous words down before they come spilling out to escalate things. I said all what I needed to say that evening outside the school's gymnasium when he and Blake cornered me. I don't think it's properly sunken in for him yet, what I said.
Brent continues before I get a chance to respond. "Do you actually know anything about him? About any of them?"
"Them?"
What's he talking about? I came here to check on him and now I've found myself in unfamiliar territory where it feels like the conversation is quickly spiraling into somewhere I can't understand. He's not making any sense.
"His friends," he clarifies, gaze burning with a hatred so potent, it crackles like electricity from a livewire. "You think they care about you? If you weren't with Daniels, do you think they'd bother being nice to you?"
I cross my arms over my chest. "Funny thing how it works when two people get together."
Somehow, Brent's glare manages to intensify, the browns of his eyes deepening into a shade so dark, they turn black.
"Fuck off with the sarcasm. You don't know what they're like."
"And you do?" I challenge.
"Maybe more than you. They're not like us, Jace. They're dangerous. They're fucking monsters."
I hold out my hands, gesturing for him to calm down. "Obviously, you're still mad about the fight last night. Rightfully so –"
"You don't get it. They are literally monsters." He angrily points to his chest, indicating the wounds bandaged beneath the garb. The neckline shifts slightly again, lopping to one side. His entire shoulder has been bandaged. "My chest is shredded."
"You went through a fence," I reason.
"Then why am I the only one injured?" he practically shouts. The room's other occupant spits out a curse, reprimanding all the shouting. He shifts around on his bed and goes quiet again.
Another beat passes before Brent continues with his tirade, but quieter this time, mindful not to raise his voice. He takes deep breaths to calm himself.
"You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into. They're not like us. I'm not even sure they're human."
I shake my head. "All right, let's not get hysterical."
"I'm not!" He insists, "Daniels and his friends – they're not like us."
I don't have the time for this. Sky will be here soon enough to pick me up. It's energy-draining to deal with Brent and his attitude but now he's hysterical. I'm tempted to ask him what he could possibly mean by those words, but I have a feeling it will lead to another argument.
"Look, I didn't come here to fight."
Reaching into my back pocket, I fish out the Get-Well-Soon card that Sky picked up on the way to my house last night. We'd stopped at the nearby twenty-four-hour minimart to get some snacks, and he'd spent a few minutes pondering on what to get at the stand where multiple cards were on display.
He'd purchased a simple one that came with an envelope.
It's heavy in my hand, though, and there's a raised impression – rectangular in shape – that's thicker than the card by a lot.
Running my finger along the edge of the impression, judging by the flatness of the shape's surface and the object's weight, it's a smartphone.
I'm not sure why Sky would give Brent a phone but this morning when he handed it over, he'd told me he left something extra and it's for Brent's eyes only. "Calling it even," is what he'd explained it as.
"I just came here to see how you're holding up and to give you this. It's from Sky," I continue, showing him the envelope. "He said there's something in here you should see. Says it's important."
"Why would I accept anything from that monster?"
"Don't call him that," I snap, reaching my limit of tolerance for listening to him berate Sky.
"Not while he's not here to defend himself."
I toss the envelope with the card and phone inside onto the bed.
It lands on the thin edge, plopping against his hip.
"Open it or not, throw it away or keep it, I don't care. But don't insult him to my face again. You have no idea what he's like."
I turn to leave but pause long enough to hear Brent's departing remark.
"I know what he's not."