twice before dawn to images of the design on Liam’s chest. Seeing the symbols I’d long associated with a cemetery etched into his skin had triggered something in me. The unsettling connection buzzed in my tired mind, creating vivid dreams and obliterating any possibility of actual rest. I wrestled with thoughts of the mark. I imagined it glowing green beyond my window, calling me into the darkness, the cemetery or Hale Manor, I hadn’t been sure. Hadn’t cared. I wasn’t leaving the safety of my bed and Chester. I was afraid of getting too close in my dream. Reality was another story.
I watched for Liam in the crowds and waited for him to speak to me in class. To my dismay, Liam didn’t make eye contact with me in Ohio History and he ditched lunch. Did he realize joining swim team meant interacting with real live people?
Justin handed me my book bag outside study hall after lunch, a hopeful but pensive look in his eyes. “Can I drive you home?”
“I’m swimming again tonight.”
“Gotcha. Text me after?”
“Yeah.” I lifted my right elbow and Justin bumped his into mine. We hadn’t done that since middle school, but the urge to remind him of our long years of friendship burst forth. He smiled widely at our private exchange. A right elbow bump was once the secret handshake to our exclusive cowboy club. We’d held meetings in the last pony stall of his parents’ stable and his mom delivered sweet tea and peanut butter sandwiches. Delivered. She hadn’t stayed because she didn’t know the handshake.
I headed to the row of computers in the back of the library, hoping for an available one. On the walk to school, I’d decided to spend study hall completing scholarship applications, instead of counting books and thinking of a boy who wouldn’t even look at me in public. The last available computer was beside the one Liam occupied. Of course.
I held my chin high and sat, completely indifferent to his proximity. I entered my student identification number right away and started my scholarship search as a small crowd entered the library. I hooked a chunk of hair behind my ear, removing the veil between my eyes and the computer screen. Time for concentration.
Something hot and wet coursed over my ear.
“Gah!” I straightened, wiping my ear with both palms.
Kirk leaned over me, one hand braced on the back of my chair, the other on the desk in front of me. “Hey, sexy. You miss me yet?”
“No.” I fumed, humiliated. Again.
Mr. Heaver strode across the room to the librarian’s desk. Three students stood behind him. One disgusting stalker breathed into my hair. “These four missed my Chemistry exam Monday and need to make it up.”
Kirk nuzzled his nose against my neck. “Yes, you do.” His breath was hot and sticky, probably laced with spit from Hannah’s tongue. “You like being licked. I remember. It wasn’t that long ago, Callie.” He ran a finger across my jaw and I slapped it away.
He chuckled, proud to have incited a reaction. I lifted my booted foot and brought a two-inch chunky heel down on his toe.
“Bitch!”
Everyone gasped and looked in our direction.
“Kirk stubbed his toe,” I announced.
Mr. Heaver leveled his gaze on Kirk. “Language, Mr. Fennel.”
Kirk snarled. “If my toe’s broken and I can’t practice tonight, you’ll be sorry.”
I responded loud enough for our spectators to hear. “You should be more careful.”
“I fucking hate you,” he whispered, limping away.
In my periphery, Liam’s shoulders moved up and down. I assumed he laughed at me but I refused to acknowledge his response.
Across the room, Kirk glared with narrow, hate-filled eyes.
I turned to Liam, blocking Kirk from my mind and curious about what Liam was up to online. Completing scholarship applications like me? Did rich Icelandic kids need scholarship money? A dark site with strange markings in the banner and a bearded man carrying a staff filled his screen. Liam’s position
I watched for Liam in the crowds and waited for him to speak to me in class. To my dismay, Liam didn’t make eye contact with me in Ohio History and he ditched lunch. Did he realize joining swim team meant interacting with real live people?
Justin handed me my book bag outside study hall after lunch, a hopeful but pensive look in his eyes. “Can I drive you home?”
“I’m swimming again tonight.”
“Gotcha. Text me after?”
“Yeah.” I lifted my right elbow and Justin bumped his into mine. We hadn’t done that since middle school, but the urge to remind him of our long years of friendship burst forth. He smiled widely at our private exchange. A right elbow bump was once the secret handshake to our exclusive cowboy club. We’d held meetings in the last pony stall of his parents’ stable and his mom delivered sweet tea and peanut butter sandwiches. Delivered. She hadn’t stayed because she didn’t know the handshake.
I headed to the row of computers in the back of the library, hoping for an available one. On the walk to school, I’d decided to spend study hall completing scholarship applications, instead of counting books and thinking of a boy who wouldn’t even look at me in public. The last available computer was beside the one Liam occupied. Of course.
I held my chin high and sat, completely indifferent to his proximity. I entered my student identification number right away and started my scholarship search as a small crowd entered the library. I hooked a chunk of hair behind my ear, removing the veil between my eyes and the computer screen. Time for concentration.
Something hot and wet coursed over my ear.
“Gah!” I straightened, wiping my ear with both palms.
Kirk leaned over me, one hand braced on the back of my chair, the other on the desk in front of me. “Hey, sexy. You miss me yet?”
“No.” I fumed, humiliated. Again.
Mr. Heaver strode across the room to the librarian’s desk. Three students stood behind him. One disgusting stalker breathed into my hair. “These four missed my Chemistry exam Monday and need to make it up.”
Kirk nuzzled his nose against my neck. “Yes, you do.” His breath was hot and sticky, probably laced with spit from Hannah’s tongue. “You like being licked. I remember. It wasn’t that long ago, Callie.” He ran a finger across my jaw and I slapped it away.
He chuckled, proud to have incited a reaction. I lifted my booted foot and brought a two-inch chunky heel down on his toe.
“Bitch!”
Everyone gasped and looked in our direction.
“Kirk stubbed his toe,” I announced.
Mr. Heaver leveled his gaze on Kirk. “Language, Mr. Fennel.”
Kirk snarled. “If my toe’s broken and I can’t practice tonight, you’ll be sorry.”
I responded loud enough for our spectators to hear. “You should be more careful.”
“I fucking hate you,” he whispered, limping away.
In my periphery, Liam’s shoulders moved up and down. I assumed he laughed at me but I refused to acknowledge his response.
Across the room, Kirk glared with narrow, hate-filled eyes.
I turned to Liam, blocking Kirk from my mind and curious about what Liam was up to online. Completing scholarship applications like me? Did rich Icelandic kids need scholarship money? A dark site with strange markings in the banner and a bearded man carrying a staff filled his screen. Liam’s position
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