Resilience | ✔

Chapter Four

"Hey, Marley?" Beck asked.

Marley broke out of her trance, turning to face her sort-of friend. "Yeah?"

"What's with the envelope?" Beck held up the manila envelope from Marley's backpack, the blue ink facing her.

"Give me that—" Marley flung herself out of the ring, lunging across the floor. Beck stood her ground, calmly holding the envelope behind her back. Marley reached her and planted, fists so tight she could feel her nails starting to break the skin of her palms. "Put it down."

"I just want to know what it is," Beck said, handing it over.

"Why are you so antagonistic all the time?" Marley shot her a glare as she checked the envelope for rips.

"I just want to know what it is," Beck repeated.

"It's from my mom," Marley snapped. "Happy?"

"What's in it?" Beck peered curiously at the handwriting.

"Well I haven't looked, because I'm not eighteen yet, shitlord," Marley bit out.

"Really." Beck's eyebrows lifted. "You haven't looked at it? You, Queen of Rule-Breaking?"

"This isn't a rule, it's my mom," Marley said.

"Something like that definitely is a rule." Beck stuck her hands in her back pockets, apparently having changed back into her jeans.

How long had Marley been standing there staring at the door? She frowned, turning the envelope over in her hands. Beck had a point—Do not open seemed like a rule.

"Honestly," Beck said, "if she didn't want you to open it, she probably would have put a warning like 'Dead spiders inside' or something. She knew you—putting that on it is the exact right way to get you to open it instantly."

"I wanted to respect her wishes," Marley said doubtfully.

"Okay, then do." Beck held up her hands. "I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to." She paused. "What do you think's in there?"

Marley shot her a glance: I know exactly what you're doing. Beck was curious and was trying to get her to open the envelope. She wasn't going to; her mom hadn't wanted her to. "I don't know, probably some devastating secret or a bunch of random crap."

"That's not what you want it to be, though, is it?" Beck said.

Marley bit back a sigh. "What does that mean?"

"It means I've never seen you look at something with that much hope," Beck said. "Not even Jackson."

Marley cleared her facial expression, locking it down into its normal I hate everything look. "Whatever." She stared down at the envelope, and the words, instead of a soothing balm, seemed now like a taunt. Don't open me, Marley. You have to wait until you're eighteen. You have to wait. Because I said so. And I didn't offer any other explanation. What'cha gonna do about it?

And Beck had made it look like a rule—it was a rule—and Marley lived, literally only existed to break rules—

She reached for the metal doohickey at the top and stopped. She looked at Beck. "Do you think I should open it?"