Chapter Seven
Maddox
Silence.
It’s what I thrive in.
The walls always bleed secrets when they think no one is listening. I soak everything in with methodical interest. Everyone has their own convictions—passions.
Our little bird has one that no one else knows about.
Except me.
While Dirt spends all of her time hunched over the ratty notebook she holds dearly, she has no idea I’ve seen every lyric and heart-wrenching confession.
She’s clueless about the countless hours I’ve spent watching her scribble out her deepest trauma onto wide-ruled notebook paper like the naive thing she is…
If she thinks that’s enough to keep her secrets safe, she has another thing coming.
Her backpack is discarded and shoved into a locker in the girls’ changing room. I wait for gym to start before slipping in unnoticed.
My steps are the only sound in the empty changing room, and I scan until my eyes land on her locker.
With quick, calculating turns of the lock’s dial, I pop it open before digging around until I find her songbook.
I pluck it out, shoving everything else back into the cubby before locking it back and slipping out into the main hall of the school.
I flip through the pages lined with her deepest confessions before stopping on my favorite one. I smirk before I head off to our shared next hour class.
Music is my least favorite. The sounds are always too loud, and I hate the screeching of the off-tune, car crash that our teacher calls ‘band practice.’ These people wouldn’t know talent if it slapped them in the face, but I’m going to give them a taste today.
“Alright!” The teacher claps her hands together with a wide smile. “Who wants to go first?”
I raise a hand, and my friends stare at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Oh!” Mrs. Christie grins. “Get up here, Maddox!”
As I pass the front row, I see Dirt digging around in her backpack for her songbook. When she comes up short, I pinpoint the panic that shakes her to her core. She dumps her backpack out, cursing when pencils and pens roll across the floor.
She gets a few side-eyes, but as her anxiety revs, she places a hand on Charlie’s desk. “My songbook!”
Her friend frowns. “Did you leave it in your locker?”
“Girls!” Mrs. Christie shushes as I take the floor. “Go ahead, Maddox.”
I brandish the songbook in clear view of Dirt, smirking when her eyes widen.
“How do I heal when the wounds want to stay? It breaks and tears away, shifting my bones beneath my skin while I wilt with the day. Some say that time is a balm, healing over everything until there’s a settling calm.
But the winds howl deeper, and the tide turns; meanwhile, I’m stuck, forever mending these burns.
” With every line, my smile stretches into a Cheshire grin.
I peer up through my lashes to see Dirt frozen in time.
Her expression is adorable, pouty lips parted as she stares back at me in horror.
I deliver the finishing blow. “It seems I grabbed the wrong notebook. I think this belongs to you.” I slap it onto her desk before leaning close.
“A little edgy, don’t you think?” I walk past her and take my seat.
The room is quiet, then a few hushed whispers and snickers.
“Um,” Mrs. Christie rocks back on her heels in discomfort. “Who’s next?”
Dirt pushes up from her chair before tearing out of the room with her head tucked. Charlie chases after her, shooting us a death glare before following her friend out to the hallway.
“Good shit,” Kairo praises.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her move that fast,” Roman crosses his arms with a conniving half-smirk.
As class drags on, I keep replaying Dirt’s reaction over and over again in my head. The alarm and dread rolling off of her was addictive.
It makes me wonder what she would look like asleep—her face slack and as cold as the ones that lie in my family’s funeral home as they await their service.
I’ve always had a morbid fascination with dead things. Growing up with funeral directors as parents will do that to a kid.
And I know Dirt would look perfect lying in a fucking coffin.