I clear the double doors and my stomach pitches, twists at the sight of overstimulated teenagers packed tightly into bleachers. The band is assembled at the far end of the gym. Its members wear dark red uniforms with stiff-looking collars. They play their instruments, swaying as if they enjoy it. Their puffy red faces, shining with perspiration, tell another story.
Sweat trickles down my spine. It’s hotter in here than outside. My pores open wide, grasping, searching for cooler air, mist, and condensation. But there’s only the cloying scent of too many humans crammed together. Students shove past me.
“Move already,” one girl grunts as she bumps me.
I’m swept forward on a sea of bodies, deeper into the gym than I want to be. Turning, I strain, looking behind me for the door or something. Someone,
Not Will though. I know better. He’s the wrong kind of distraction.
I lift my face, try to gulp clean air. Impossible. The gym is stale and stinks of sweating, unclean pores. I drag deeper, sucking breath into my shrinking lungs. I get a sniff of blood buried deep in the wood floor and I feel sick, wilted. Cassian’s voice rolls over me.
My legs move numbly. Telling myself pep rallies can’t last long, I pick a seat. Squeeze into the first spot I find, as low as I can get on the bleachers.
Cheerleaders entertain the crowd, shaking their pom-poms and tossing their bodies in the air. Brooklyn’s out there. Those over-glossed lips curve wide as she shouts at the crowd. And up front, dead center, as close as she can get to the action, sits Tamra, an expression of rapture on her face.
“Hey.” A girl with braces — green rubber bands stretching like ropes of slime between the metal — nudges me. “Are you a junior?”
I stare at her, at the menacing snap of her teeth as she spits out her words. Words that I can’t seem to register.
I’m in sensation overload. The band’s pounding drums beat like fists inside my head, determined to split my skull open from the inside.
I shake, jump as screams and shouts break out, even louder than the train wreck of a band.
Bewildered, I look around. From one set of double doors, a dozen guys rush out onto the court wearing red baseball jerseys. The crowd goes wild, surges up on every side of me like a hurling sea.
The principal’s voice lifts above it all — a strange, disembodied sound on the microphone. Like God speaking down to the masses.
At a vicious tug on my sleeve, I look to my side. It’s the girl again. Slimy Braces. “Hey. This is the
I hear the words, but they don’t penetrate. I can’t understand.
“What are you? A fish?” she demands.
Oh. “Sophomore,” I reply.
She leans closer, thrusts her face into mine, and talks loudly, slowly. As if I’m mentally challenged. “You. Sit. Over. There.” She stabs the air with a finger, pointing over my shoulder.
Two girls beside her laugh. Exchange approving looks. Egged on, she shoves at my shoulder. “Go on. Get out of here.”
Miserable, I move to go. Not because of Slimy Braces specifically, but because of it all. Because I’m here. Because I’ve lost everything. The sky, my pride…my life.
Because Mom doesn’t even care what she’s doing to me. Because Tamra is so happy. Because Will, the only one who brings me back to myself, who fills the gnawing ache, is someone I can’t be around.
I stand. Several rows above the gym floor, my world spins. The dry heat, the foul smells, the stinging noise, the clammy press of people on every side of me…
It’s all too much.
Someone yells for me to sit down. Others pick up the cry. I wince. Tremble. Feel the blood wash out of my face, drain like water from a sieve.
Among the clamor, I recognize Slimy Braces’s voice. “Is she going to puke? Gross!”
Puke? I wish…wish that I were simply sick. And not dying. Not dead. A
Gray edges my vision. I can’t see. I can hardly hold myself up. I lift a foot, try to step down. I see my fate. I’m about to eat wood. Or land on a body. I know this. Feel myself falling. Slipping into deepening gray. The air turns to wind on my face.
Then nothing. It all stops.
A hand closes around my arm. Snaps me back. Catches me. The gray recedes. Light floods my vision and with it a face.
Will.
He leans over me, his face intent and harshly beautiful. His hazel eyes glitter, wild with an emotion I can’t identify. He mutters thickly beneath his breath, then clenches his jaw, saying no more.
His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch. This, the steady pulse in the cup of his hand, revives me.
His presence always does this to me. Breathes life back in. Chases away the phantom like fast-fading mist. My skin tightens, rushes with awareness. My chest vibrates. Swells with relief, gratitude, and something else.
His gaze holds mine. In that moment, it’s quiet. Everything fades to a distant hum. We’re alone.
18
“Let’s get out of here.” The sound of his voice breaks the spell. Once again, noise rushes over me. The discordant band. Hundreds of screaming teens. The unpleasant smells. Dizziness returns. I look around at the wild spin of faces. Slimy Braces stares with wide eyes. Her friends watch in similar shock.
I nod. More than ready. Suddenly it no longer matters that I can’t be with him. I just need to escape the gym.
He leads me by the hand down the bleachers. His warm fingers twine with mine. It feels good, like I’m once again safe. He moves with confidence, stepping down from the bleachers. Swerving around latecomers. We pass Catherine. She snatches at my wrist.
“Where are you—” Her voice dies when she sees Will. She mouths words I can’t make out.
I move on, tugged ahead.
“Hey, Will!”
From high in the bleachers Angus motions Will to sit with him. I don’t see Xander. Probably in a bathroom somewhere with another girl.
Will shakes his head up at Angus and tightens his hand around mine.
We pass the center of the gym, right where Tamra sits. I twist my neck, watch as she rises to her feet, frowning darkly. An anxiety I don’t understand brims in her amber eyes.
Then her gaze swings to the dancing cheerleaders. And it clicks. I understand why she looks at them right then. I shouldn’t look, but I do. I lock my gaze with Brooklyn. Her face burns red and I know it has nothing to do with the exertion of their routine.
Then I can’t see anymore, even if I wanted to. Will pushes through the heavy double doors. The noise level drops to a muted roar once we’re in the hall. I still feel the beat of the band through the building, rumbling up my body.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
Will keeps walking, eating ground with his long strides. He pulls me after him until we’re outside, hurrying beneath the covered walkway. The shade offers little relief from the dry, scalding heat.
“Do you care?” He glances at me over his shoulder, his eyes glittery warm and intense. My stomach
