Force of Nature ▸ House of Anubis [3]

chapter seventy-three. house of hog

            "Trudy gave me the difficult job of keeping you awake," he tells me, now setting the ice pack on top of my head. "It's not my fault you keep falling asleep."

            "I'm not falling asleep, I'm zoning out," I correct. I look across his face, re-observing what I have before. He's a really good-looking guy. I mean, insanely good looking. Like, if I had to choose between Clooney and Clarke, I'd choose Clarke.

            And I've noticed several different ways he looks at me over the years—first, with contempt (that I later learned was mostly fake). Then, as we slowly began to move from frenemies to friends, he started looking at me differently, softer. I remember a few times when, just after we made the change from last to first names, I caught him looking at me when he didn't think I'd notice and there was something... different in his eyes. Like he was beginning to realize I was actually an awesome person and he was an idiot for pretending to hate me.

            Just kidding. But also I'm totally serious. But seriously, it was almost like he was paying such close attention to me, learning all of my tics and quirks. I hadn't noticed that before Alfie wound up in the hospital, and truth be told, I never really, truly noticed it until this year. Because he still does it. He still looks at me like he's studying me, like he's prepared to study me for the rest of his life, and I know this because this is how he's looking at me now.

            "Can we talk?" I ask him quietly as I remove the ice pack from the top of my head to place it back where it belonged. I lean my elbow on the back of the couch as he shrugs, gesturing to me as if to say I've got the floor. "You like to meddle. That's why you stole the diary, I know that. But you're... you're not a Sibuna, Jerome. You have no idea how deep this thing goes. Don't feel bad, neither does Joy. You actually know more than she does—"

            "I know I'm not a Sibuna," Jerome interrupts. "I'm a—what do you call it—temp. I know that. But I am your boyfriend, and you can't tell, Ashley, but you're spiraling. Every time Victor comes into a room you look like you're about to jump out of your skin. You came in the house tonight bleeding and you've got a concussion. And every time I see you, you look like you've seen a ghost, and actually, you look like one, too."

            I can't remember the last time I looked in a mirror at myself and actually looked. I haven't worn actual make-up in forever and I only glance at the mirror to make sure my hair looks somewhat presentable for school. I've probably forgotten what I look like by now. So all of this, everything he's saying, it rings eerily true, and I hate it.

            But still, I want to downplay how horrible I feel so he doesn't worry. Which is probably useless seeing as how he just listed all of these things. Still, I respond dismissively with a shrug, "I'm fine."

            "You know, out of every lie you've ever told me," he responds, "that's the one I hate the most. Everyone can see that you're not fine except for you. You need to take a break before whatever this is eats you alive."

            "I can't take a break, Jerome. I'm a part of it. And I don't just mean as a Sibuna."

            "What do you mean?"

            "How am I always involved?"

            Jerome inhales sharply, and I take that to mean he understands what I'm getting at. It's the part of me that's the Bringer of Death that's slowly been destroying me. I still have no idea what kind of powers I have beyond the basics. And I'm not sure I want to know.

            When he doesn't say anything, I continue. "This is so much bigger than the Cup of Ankh and the Mask of Anubis. Really, I—I had nothing to do with either of those. I just had to be there, for the Chosen One. But for this one... they need me for some reason. And I can't take a break because if I sit back and rest, I'm vulnerable and they'll win."