Red Hair, Black Soul (Red & Black #1)

10 | When I'm gone

I look around the space around me, trying to find something to get my hands on. There are so many things in here, though, that I can't collect my mind.

"Help me with the newspapers. There's more than enough work for both of us." Makena helps me out, seeing my confusion. "I'll just give you some box and you can... Hey, Al, throw some boxes over here!" She raises her voice.

I furrow my brows, wondering who the hell she's talking to, but a second later I hear a movement coming from somewhere on the other side of the room. I raise my head when someone approaches our section and have to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.

The guy standing in front of me is completely white. His complexion is unhealthily pale, his eyelashes and hair lack color, and his eyes are nearly transparent. A few freckles - light, and so unlike mine - dot his nose and cheeks. He's quite tall and very slim - his cheekbones and collarbones stick out almost unhealthily. The boy passes Makena a huge box without a word and turns to stalk away.

"Wait." Makena exclaims and the boy stops. I can tell he's uncomfortable by the way his shoulders square - just like mine when I wish to disappear whenever I feel too exposed. "I don't think you two know each other. Ada, this is Al. Al, Ada."

I give him what I hope is my sympathetic smile and he nods in response. Then he hurries off, ducking back behind the tower of cartons.

"Al isn't short for albino, right?" I ask when I'm sure he's out of the hearing range.

Makena bursts out laughing and bows her head forward. Placing her forehead on the smaller pile of paper, she shakes her head no.

"His name is Alden. The nickname is quite sarcastic, now when you think about it, but he doesn't seem to mind. Or maybe that's why he doesn't talk to people often." Her face grows serious and her dark brows pull in together.

I study her. I can't help but wonder why someone as social as her bothers to pay attention to outcasts like me or Al. Girls like Makena fit into the popular category. She can be friends with anyone. And yet here she is, buried beneath a ton of old papers, spending her free time sorting through documents three times her age. She doesn't fit into places like that.

I fit into places like that. Al fits into places like that. Not her.

"Do you need another pair of hands?"

Speaking of people who don't fit...

"Nope. Go back to bathing in your loneliness. We don't need you in our party of three." Makena doesn't even lift her head to look at him.

"Party of three?" I see him arch a brow from the corner of my eye. "I can tell you're having fun. Is Al the dance leader?"

"Get lost." Makena fires back. I can tell she's no longer teasing. Something in Jed's words made her angry.

"But I was just -"

"Get. Lost."

Something in her tone must make him understand she's not joking. Sending us one last glance, Jed turns and stalks off without a word. I discreetly watch his shoulders tense as he exits the storage room in a few powerful strides.

"Jerk." Makena murmurs, shaking her head.

"What was it about?" I ask.

"He doesn't like Al." She explains. "I don't know why, I don't know how, but these two have a bone to pick. Or rather Jed does. Al doesn't hold a grudge against anyone."

"Does he have a reason?"

Makena shakes her head. "I don't now. It's their business. I step in only when Jed goes too far. This was one of those times."

I fall silent as my mind drifts off, replaying the past two minutes. Jed's behaviour was strange. Sure, he's not the nicest of people. To me, he's the pawn of Satan sent to earth to deprive good girls and make them skip their lessons and gain a criminal record. But in the long term, he's rather easy-going. I would never suspect him to hold a grudge against a shy albino boy who's afraid of his own shadow. I mean, I am as antisocial and laid back as Al, and somehow, I manage to handle Jed. We quarrel a lot but he doesn't seem to hate me. Not as much as he does Al. I wonder what must have happened to make Jed dislike someone this strongly.

Because if someone down the stairs doesn't make the person hate you, then I don't know what does.

"I hear you're here because of detention. And judging by Jed's appearance, I guess your stories are somehow connected."

I shrug, taking another newspaper from the pile and stashing it in a box. "He made me ditch."

Makena's brows ride up so high they almost touch her hairline. "Oh?"

"Well, maybe not maybe. Tricked is more like it."

"Interesting." She murmurs, busying herself with folding an exceptionally large newspaper in half.

"Not really."

Because it's true. There's nothing interesting in me ditching classes with Jed. It was a one-time event and it's never going to happen again. Or at least I hope so.

Suddenly, Makena starts humming a song under her breath. I pause my movements and focus on the melody. A moment later I recognize the tone as the so called Cup Song. I know it, I've learnt it at the music school back in Scotland. We performed it on one of our shows as some kind of a joke. I'm not sure if I still remember the beat, so I try to play it hesitantly. When Makena realizes what I'm doing, she smiles and reaches to the side. I follow her hand and see that she's gotten a hold of a mug serving for a pencil holder. She tips the mug upside down and the bunch of pencils and pens spills out, leaving it empty. Makena grabs it in her left hand and starts playing. One sequence is enough for me to remember the scheme. Not having a mug, I use my hands and the floor to make different sounds. Before I know it, I start singing along to the rhythm we're creating. Losing myself in the music completely, I close my eyes and smile, not missing a beat. I distantly notice Makena stop singing when the second verse begins, but I don't stop and continue solo. I haven't heard the song in a long time, but I still remember the words and synchronize my moves with my singing perfectly. For a moment, I forget that I'm not alone here, that Makena is beside me and Al is hiding somewhere behind the huge piles of papers. Right now, all that counts is me, the lyrics and the beat created by my hands. This bliss is wonderful, it's something I haven't felt in so long, have been missing so much...

I have sung the song two times when I finish. Finishing the last note, I open my eyes and take a breath.

And hold it.

There's a whole peanut gallery here. Jed and Mrs. Scottinson are standing in the door, staring, and I can see Al peeking out from behind his pile of books. Next to me, Makena is watching me wide-eyed, with her mouth hanging open. Momentarily, a wave of mortification washes over me, killing whatever joy the short moment of bliss might have given me. My eyes dart between every member of my audience and my mouth opens. Nothing comes out and I close it without speaking. Bringing myself back tot he reality, I do the only thing that seems rational in this moment.

I get up from the floor, stumble through the labyrinths of papers and bolt towards the door. Pushing past Jed and Mrs. Scottinson, I grab my backpack from the desk and do the only thing I'm good at.

I run.