Mark My Words

80 | Conspiracy Theorizing

The lunch room stands were closed, and at one of the gates, Juliana stopped and said, "People think Joanna did that to you."

"Did what?"

Juliana pointed to her face and said, "Did that to you. You know—the... scar, or whatever."

Rosalie put her fingers to the gentle ridge of the scar tissue. It was still pink, fresh, but it wouldn't be long before it'd turn a milky white against her olive skin. "Why do people think that?" she said, Not that I care what they think or anything.

She did care, though, more than she wanted to admit.

Juliana shrugged. "I dunno. 'Cause she's violent?"

"She isn't—"

"Okay, but she's known for picking that fight with Jace Clemons," she said with a roll of her eyes. Rosalie frowned despite all of her paranoia about tearing the scar open. The skin felt tight on her cheek as Juliana went on. "And, I mean, Joanna's been kinda hostile towards you. It doesn't take much to put two-and-two together."

"I wouldn't call it 'hostile', necessarily," Rosalie said, tugging at her hair. From an outside perspective, though, she could see now why everyone was jumping to that conclusion. She shook her head. "But the story is that I was mugged. If you hear someone say otherwise, could you just... correct them? Please? I don't want to worry Joanna."

"That's what I've been doing, but yeah, I will," she agreed. She then grimaced. "But... do you really think you should be worrying about how Joanna feels? She hasn't exactly been on your side since... ya know."

"I know we aren't on speaking terms—" right now, "—but I still care about how she feels."

Juliana didn't look all that convinced, and Rosalie was convinced that this wouldn't be the last conversation they had concerning Joanna's involvement with Arden's assault.

On rare occasions, Rosalie forgot that the assault ever happened, and in those moments, she was neutral. She wasn't smiling, speaking, or using her facial muscles much at all. Usually it happened when she was writing notes or working on calculus problems in the back of the classroom. In that zone, she didn't concern herself with anything other than the board, her pencil, and her notebook paper.

It was during one such "zone" when her English class was deep in focus reading a short allegory. Rosalie had forgotten about it all in favor of leaning back in her seat, one ankle hooked over her opposite knee, her eyes on the paper packet.

The door to the room cracked open as Rosalie was turning the page. She glanced over at it, past the seat where Joanna was reclined opposite her in the circle. Joanna caught her eye just before glancing over her shoulder to where Principle O'Gallagher stood in the doorway.

Their teacher stood from her desk and walked around the circle. Rosalie didn't miss the way her teacher glanced in her direction before following their principle out into the hallway and closing the door behind them.

And then, the chatter started.

"I wonder if something happened?"

"Maybe someone..."

Rosalie crossed her arm over her chest, her paper still raised with one hand. She peered over the edge of it to where Juliana sat adjacent to her in the circle. Juliana shrugged. Rosalie's eyes then lingered on Joanna, who turned away the instant their eyes met. She frowned, as much as she could with the taunt muscles at the corner of her lips.

She wanted to deliberate with Joanna about O'Gallagher's visit, but the two of them were somehow stuck with rationed conversations despite having all of their classes together—minus last period. But each day with Joanna started the same: With a brief, simple question.