STARING DOWN AT my name scribbled across the envelope, I sucked in a breath. It was the only noise in the room, and all I could hear was my heartbeat in my ears. I didn't recognize the handwriting—not that I would if I hadn't seen it in the past eleven years—and there wasn't a return address. What if I hadn't gotten the letter? What would the person have done then?
Finally, the silence was shattered. “Are you going to open it, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at it?” Rachel snapped, causing me to jump and whirl around to face her. She smirked, as if she found my surprise funny. Which she probably did. “Well?”
I glanced behind her, taking in Jane sitting at the desk with a book in her hand. Her grey eyes were wide as she stared at me. “I think you should mind your own business, Misc,” I murmured slowly, returning my gaze to Jane's sister.
Rachel frowned. “Fine.” She whirled around and fell onto the beanbag chair, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels furiously. The way she pressed down the buttons made me think she was going to snap the remote in half.
I glanced back down at the envelope, not looking up when I turned to face Sam. “I think I'm gonna take a shower first,” I told her quietly, tapping the corner of the envelope against my palm as I grabbed a few things and disappeared into the bathroom.
When I came back out, dressed in sweats and a spaghetti-strapped shirt, Sam was gone. My fingers curled around the envelope and I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought. I could feel Rachel's and Jane's gazes burning into the side of my head, like they thought I'd open it right here and now with them watching. They wanted me to read it out loud to them the first time I read it, like I would do that without even knowing what the contents of the letter were myself.
“I'll be back,” I muttered, heading for the door. I heard Rachel huff with discontent, and the chair Jane occupied creaked as she shifted.
The elevator doors closed behind me as I stepped into the hall—if you could call it that. It was more like a very small room that kept the elements from hitting you before you actually stepped onto the roof. As I said before, running was my way of getting my mind off of things that were bugging me. Well, since I'd already been running and I couldn't exactly run and read at the same time, I opted for my second way of decompressing: Coming up to the roof.
The dormitory was a pretty tall building, which made me think that the campus St. James used had actually been used for something else before it'd been turned into a boarding school for orphans. There were nine actual floors that housed the students here, the tenth and last floor actually being the roof. The roof was actually one of the few places that the other students here disliked—which made me love it all that much more. If there wasn't a chance someone would be up here, there was an even less likely chance someone would find me up here.
My toes curled against the cold cement as I stepped through the door, shivering slightly as the wind blew the wet strands of my hair around. I grimaced and pushed my hair away from my face, hurrying over to the bench-like mound in the middle of the roof. I honestly had no idea what it was doing here, but it gave me a place to sit and watch the sun dip under the mountains, so I wasn't really complaining.
The envelope felt like it was burning the fingerprints right off my fingers. My heart pounded as I stared at is, wary. I really, really wanted to open it, but at the same time, something was stopping me. Was I scared that this letter could actually be from a long lost relative that I'd never known about? No. Well, okay, maybe a little. It'd been eleven years that I'd been at this hell hole called an orphanage, and not once had I been contacted. Why now?
Taking a deep breath, I ripped the envelope open and pulled the folded piece of paper out.
Dear Jemma Josephine Niks,
Do you realize how long it's been since I've seen or written those three words? My God, eleven years have gone by since the last time we've encountered each other. Or well, I encountered your parents, that is. You've been more difficult to find.
My eyebrows pulled down. Was this guy for real? Who was he? As if reading my mind, the next sentence I read said:
You know, I wish I could tell you who I am. I'm sure you'd be exceptionally surprised to find out who I am. I would love to see your face when you do. But, alas, I cannot. My identity must remain hidden for the time being. Don't worry, though, we'll meet soon enough. I'll make sure of it.
Did you know Ancient Egyptian women were only expected to live to around thirty years of age? My Lord, doesn't seem like very long, does it? And you're, how old now, sixteen? Based off their standards, you're almost ancient! And you've spent most of it at this God forsaken orphanage. You poor child, such a meager, unsatisfactory life.
I frowned. First he said he couldn't tell me who he was and now he was insulting my life? What the heck?
Such a shame, really. The Niks family line is relying on a sixteen year old girl to carry it on. Oh, your parents were very, very smart—I'll give them that. Using a witch to hide you from me, clever. I've been searching for you for eleven years now, and this whole time you were right under my nose! I would've taken your life when you were five, but your parents were much more cunning than I gave them credit for.
Wait, what? Witch? Taken my life? I swallowed, leaning away from the letter slightly as I continued to read.
You've probably guessed by now, but I'll say—or write—it anyway. I'm your parents' murderer. Oh, it's good to get that out in the open. Was really weighing down on my shoulders, that was. Glad to finally get it off my chest. Telling the truth is always an enlightening experience.
Maybe I've said too much, I don't know. It's not like you know my identity, so this letter won't mean much to the authorities. There'd be no point taking it to them, especially after eleven years of inactivity. They'll never believe you. And it's not like you'll be alive much longer to even convince them. That's right, Jemma: You're next.
Sweet dreams,
The Secret Admirer
What the heck? I sucked in a breath sharply and stared at the letter with wide, scared eyes. My parents' murderer had just contacted me? My heart pounded against my ribcage, almost painfully. I swallowed and flipped the letter over and over, trying to find some sort of thing that could possibly identify the writer. Something below the sign-off caught my eye.
Oh, and I suggest you start running now, little red. I do love a good chase.
My jaw clenched and my heart slowed before starting to pound again. This time I wasn't scared. No, this time I was angry. All that talk about him not wanting me to know who he was, and then he went and wrote that? Either he was just an idiot, or he really did want me to know. I opted for the latter and jumped to my feet, storming for the door.
When the elevator doors reopened, I was on the first floor. The moment they opened, my eyes locked on Lyle and I stormed over to him. “Who do you think you are?” I shouted at him. I threw the letter at him. “Do you think this is funny?”
He stared up at me, his eyes wide with shock. “What are you talking about, Jemma?” he asked, his voice guarded.
I picked the letter up off the ground and shoved it in his face. “Writing something like that?” I exclaimed. My grip on the piece of paper was so tight, it was starting to wrinkle. “You've got a lot of nerve, Lyle Bane!”
He shook his head slowly, glancing down at the paper in my hand before looking back up at me. “I didn't write that,” he said, his voice quiet. He looked as if he thought I was a ticking time-bomb.
I scoffed. “Right, and I'm Mary Poppins!” I shook my head and folded the letter up, stuffing it in the waistband of my pants. Then I turned and pointed a finger at him. “How about this,” I started, my voice deadly calm, “don't talk to me again. Got it?”
And with that, I turned on my heel and walked for the stairs. I could feel his eyes boring into my back, but didn't turn around to look at him. Drifting back into my room, I took the letter from the waistband of my sweats and stuffed it between my pillowcase and my pillow. Then I fell onto my bed and closed my eyes, allowing sleep to take me away from reality and my anger.
Classes the next day were tough to focus on, especially since I shared most of them with Lyle. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my head as I struggled to pay attention to what the teachers were saying. The only problem was, I couldn't get my mind off the stupid letter. It was a prank letter, written by Lyle, it didn't matter. So why did I have a nagging feeling the letter was genuine?
“Jemma,” Ms. Blanchard said, her voice trailing the last syllable of my name. My head shot up and I stared at her, wide-eyed, before I realized she was glancing around the room. She knew where I sat, so who was she looking for? “You're with Lyle.”
Wait, what?
I glanced over at him before returning my gaze to the teacher. I racked my brain for the last fifteen minutes of class, but couldn't figure out what in the world she could possibly be referring to. Still busy searching for the answer, I didn't catch her last words and suddenly found the rest of the class moving around the room and switching seats. I stared straight ahead as Lyle slipped into the seat next to mine.
“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet. I could feel his eyes staring at the side of my head, but decided ignoring him was my best bet. Maybe he'd just go away. “We need to talk.”
Or maybe not.
I turned to give him a steely glare. “Look, we don't have anything to talk about,” I snapped at him. “So as far as I'm concerned, you can just leave me alone.”
He blinked at me once, his jaw clenched. Then a smirk curved his lips upward. “Well, I can't leave you alone entirely, Niks,” he muttered, leaning back in his seat. “I'd prefer getting a good grade on this project, and from what I hear, you need it just as badly.”
“Project?” That's what all of this was about? Ms. Blanchard had put us together as partners for a project? Was she out of her mind? Practically everyone knew that Lyle and I didn't get along.
Lyle's smirk widened. “Yep. We have to write a paper on any topic we choose and then make a slide show,” he explained. He seemed way too pleased with his current situation.
I, however, was deeply displeased. My jaw clenched as I stared at him for a long moment, thinking through my options. “Fine, but this is the only thing you're allowed to talk to me about,” I snapped, huffing out a breath. “Anything else, and I will rip your flipping tongue out, got it?”
His expression looked nervous for a second before he swallowed and replaced it with his usual confident look. He sighed and nodded, leaning his elbows on his desk. “So, what should we do the project on?” he asked. His lips were pressed into a thin line, indicating that this was not what he wanted to talk to me about, at all.
I rubbed my temples with my fingertips and closed my eyes. “I don't care,” I muttered, glancing out the window.
The rest of the class passed by way too slowly, most of it filled with Lyle and I throwing out topic after topic. Neither of us could agree on one, which just made matters worse. Lyle was practically turning blue in the face from trying not to talk about anything but the project, and the headache that had started brewing when he'd sat down beside me was only getting worse. When the bell finally rang, I winced and grabbed my bag, dashing out the door before Lyle could say another word.
Someone caught my arm and spun me to face them. “Jemma, we need to talk,” Lyle insisted, his hand gripping my elbow firmly.
I glanced down at his hand before looking back up at him slowly. “I thought I said I'd rip your tongue out if you tried to talk to me about anything other than the project,” I reminded him, ripping my arm from his grasp.
He looked pained. “But—”
“No.” I shook my head at him and started backing into the hall. “Leave me alone unless it's about the project, Bane.”
I followed the flow of traffic away from him, trying to distance myself from Lyle as much as I could. I was dodging around people and grimacing when I was elbowed by multiple people, when I saw a familiar dark head making his way in the opposite direction. My mouth went dry and I stopped, squinting through the crowd to see if I could get a good look at his face. And then gold eyes connected with my green ones, and my heart pitched into overdrive.
I turned on my heel and started walking against the flow of traffic, murmuring apologies when I ran into people. I was silently praying that he hadn't actually seen me when I heard Vince shout, “Jemma!” Picking up speed, I prayed that he didn't see me anymore and that I could get away without a hitch. It was lunch, dang it—just let me get to the cafeteria without another problem, please! I dashed for the doorway, slipping passed Lyle as I sped down the steps to the school building.
“Jemma?” he exclaimed, sounding bewildered.
I didn't respond, didn't even stop running. I dashed down the last steps and turned around, bouncing back a few steps as I glanced up at the entrance to the building to see if Vince was there yet. He wasn't. Not taking any chances, I turned around again and ran off, hoping that I could find somewhere that he couldn't find me. When I said Vince was psychotic, I meant it. Something wasn't right in his head, and I really didn't want to be anywhere near him.
After a few minutes, I slipped around the corner of a building and pushed my back up against the wall. I was breathing heavily and, when I leaned around the corner to see if I'd been followed, I saw no one. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes, concentrating on getting my breath back. I'd wait a few minutes until I was calm and then I'd start making my way to the cafeteria. I'm sure Sam was already wondering where I was.
Before I could get to that point, however, someone clamped their hand over my mouth. My eyes shot open, my breath catching when my eyes connected with gold irises. Vince smiled, a smile that normally had girls falling all over him—but since he'd just seemingly appeared out of nowhere and had his hand covering my mouth, I was more scared than happy. I glanced around wildly, where had he come from?
“Hello, Jemma,” he murmured, his breath fanning my face. “How've you been? It seems like you've been avoiding me lately.”
That's because I have been, I spat at him silently, wishing he'd just take his hand off my mouth so that I could actually spit in his face. I wasn't sure if that would actually happen, though, since my heart was pumping so hard in my chest, I thought I'd have a heart attack.
He smiled again, running his free hand along my jawline. I shuddered involuntarily, and I knew he could feel it since his body was pressed up against mine. I wanted to scream, but it'd be muffled by his hand and only result in making my throat sore. As he pressed even closer to me, I started to freak out and panic. He was psychotic, what was he going to do to me? His hand started slipping from my mouth as his face inched closer to mine, and suddenly I knew.
He was going to rape me.
Panicking, I jerked my knee up quickly. He hissed in pain and doubled over, letting me go. Realizing that I was free, I scrambled away from him and sprinted as fast as I could. I couldn't tell where I was going—heck, I didn't even know where I was. All I knew was that I was on St. James's campus still. Other than that, I could be in Timbuktu and I wouldn't have known.
I choked as I was jerked back by the hood of my hoodie. That was it, I was done. I wasn't wearing hoodies anymore.
“Where do you think you're going, Jemma?” Vince's voice whispered dangerously in my ear. I whimpered and started struggling, wishing I was stronger. Maybe I should switch from the track team to something that gave me muscle. “You're going to have to pay for that.”
Everything stopped, even my heart. Okay, well, maybe not my heart. But for that split-second where I was certain I was about to die—even though I hadn't seen the Grim Reaper yet—it sure felt like everything had stopped. Then I went into full ballistic mode, trying to struggle out of my hoodie at the same time as trying not to choke to death.
When I'd freed myself, I started running again. I'd only managed one step when Vince caught my arm and jerked me around to face him. I didn't stay facing him long, though, as he slapped me across the face, sending me sprawling onto the grass.
He clucked disapprovingly. “You should know better than that, Jemma,” he murmured, his voice sending a sickening feeling up my spine. I shivered as I felt like creepy-crawlies were crawling all over my body. “I mean, how long have you seen this coming?”
My eyes snapped open, watching the world tilt this way and that. Seen this coming? Was he crazy? Oh, wait. Because there was no possible way for me to stand and run with my head spinning like this, I started low-crawling away. I was going to get away, even if it killed me. Which I hoped it didn't, I really liked being alive—even if I didn't have the best life around.
He grabbed my ankle and yanked me back, and a scream burst from my lungs before I could help myself. As great of an idea as it sounds, it wasn't the best thing I could've done. What with him still standing and me lying on the ground and all. The air was forced from my lungs as he kicked me in the stomach. I curled up on the ground, half because I thought it would help relieve some of the pain and half because I was hoping that this would put a kink in his plans.
I was concentrating on my breathing and forcing the world back into focus. It wasn't working, so I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on not passing out. It felt like forever when I finally felt him touch me, and I recoiled, whimpering. The hand jerked away, which confused me. He'd just kicked me, why did me whimpering now make him pause?
“Jemma?”
I cracked an eye open, squinting to bring the face into focus. The first thing I saw was the dark hair, but it didn't seem as dark as Vince's. The next thing I recognized was the dark brown irises instead of the light gold ones I'd been expecting. Confusion surged through me, and I wheezed, “Lyle?” since I still couldn't breathe properly.
“Jemma, are you all right?” Lyle exclaimed, reaching for me again hesitantly. I didn't whimper this time, but I was having a hard time breathing and the world was still spinning. When his hand touched my shoulder, I groaned—the spinning was starting to give me a migraine. His hand jerked back again. “Jemma?”
I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “Where's Vince?” I choked out, fear making my heart speed up. I pushed myself up, gasping at the pain shooting up my side. I forced myself up anyway, trying to keep from passing out as the world spun. There went my idea of looking around.
“Vince?” Lyle sounded confused, which confused me even more. He hadn't seen Vince? Lyle inched closer to me. “Jemma, are you okay? What happened?” He threw his arms out towards me as I started to fall back to the ground. “Dang it, Jemma! I'm taking you to the nurse.”
The next thing I knew, I was no longer on the ground but in his arms. I blinked up at him, squinting to bring his face into focus. His eyes kept glancing down at me, concern and worry laced together in their depths. It wasn't until a few seconds later that I actually understood what he'd just said. I started struggling; or well, I tried to. It just turned out to be me shifting weakly in his arms.
“No,” I muttered, shaking my head back and forth. “No, Lyle don't.”
My protests were enough to make him stop, staring down at me as if I were crazy. “What?” he exclaimed, sounding only slightly on the outraged side. “Jemma, you aren't thinking straight. We need to get you to the nurse.” He started walking again.
I shook my head again, and then groaned. None of this was helping the migraine. “No, Lyle. Please don't,” I whispered, starting to lose consciousness. “I'll be fine. Just take me back to the dormitory, please.” I think that was the longest sentence I could muster, and it was taking its toll on me.
He stopped again, and I clutched his shirt in my hands as I was jerked around in his arms. I could tell he was frustrated by the way his breathing picked up pace. He really wanted to take me to the nurse, but was torn between doing that and actually listening to me. I was actually surprised he was even considering what I'd asked of him, but didn't have long to dwell on it. After a few seconds, the darkness started encroaching on me.
“Jemma,” Lyle exclaimed, but it sounded like he was at the other end of a tunnel. “Jemma, stay with me!”
The darkness continued to close in on me.
“Jemma...”
Pain, pounding, head, agh!
I groaned as my head sent pain escalating through my entire body with every heartbeat. Honestly, I felt like I was dying. My eyebrows pinched together as I struggled to open my eyes, slamming them shut again when the light only worsened the pain building in my head. Good to know that my migraine hadn't faded in the least.
Something crashed to the ground. “Jemma?” Lyle's voice exclaimed from somewhere away from me. Even though he wasn't right next to me, his voice was still too loud and I winced. “Jemma, are you awake?”
“Will you keep your voice down?” I snapped, curling up on my side. Instead of helping, the movement sent a sharp pain up my side and I gasped.
“Jemma?” I heard movement, and then whatever I was lying on dipped down as Lyle sat down next to me. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I glared at him through slitted eyes. “No, my head is killing me,” I told him, clenching my teeth against the pain. “And my side hurts like hell.”
He started to reach for me, and then paused. “Can I see?” he asked, his hand still halfway raised. For once, he wasn't looking at me like he found me amusing. He was actually looking at me like he was scared that if he made the wrong move, I would break.
I frowned at him, wary of his true intentions. Although Lyle was attractive—almost model-like attractive—and had girls following his every move, he never seemed to take notice of them. He barely blinked an eye at them, and even though he was a jerk to me, he never seemed to be a player. Which you would think that would make me more attracted to him. Honestly, it did just a little bit. But the jerk factor was a big part of my uncertainty.
He'd just recently started being nice to and around me, not something I was used to. And after the incident with Vince, I was especially wary of anyone Vince hung around. I didn't think Lyle was anything like Vince, but you just couldn't be sure.
“Why?” I asked finally, wincing as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I glanced around, taking in my surroundings. We were in a room, one that looked a bit similar to the one I shared with Sam and the Misc sisters. Except, it was messier and had guys' clothes strewn all over the place. “Where are we?”
Lyle blinked once, and then frowned. “Well, since you didn't want me to take you to the nurse, the only other place was the dormitory, especially since you passed out in my arms,” he explained, dropping his hand onto the bed. “We're in my room.”
“Where's Vince?” I asked immediately, my heart picking up speed as fear shot through my veins. I glanced around wildly, my breathing coming out in short, panicked pants. As far as I could tell, it was only Lyle and me in the room; though, Vince could be hiding anywhere.
“What is it with you and asking where Vince is?” Lyle snapped, sounding frustrated. I glanced over at him, catching the hurt in his eyes just as he changed it to indifference. Strange. “He's in class, with everyone else. You were out for a good hour, at least.”
My heart started to slow, and I started to relax against the pillows again. Vince was in class. Thank God, I didn't have to deal with him just yet. I could take some time to recuperate and figure out how to avoid him completely. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing evenly, trying to figure out how to breathe without causing my side to hurt.
“Jemma, what happened?” Lyle asked quietly, reminding me that he was still here.
I opened my eyes slowly and stared at him, thinking through if I should tell him or not. On one hand, he might be able to help me avoid Vince, but on the other, he probably wouldn't believe me. In the end, I opted for brushing it off as me being clumsy. “I ran into a door,” I muttered, glancing away from his gaze.
“I found you at least five yards away from the nearest building.”
I pursed my lips and tried again. “I ran into a pole?” I'd meant for it to come out strong and confident, but it just ended up sounding like more of a question than an answer.
“Jemma,” Lyle sighed, exasperated. “What happened, really?”
I remained silent, staring at him unblinkingly. It was probably a good idea to tell him, but I was an idiot and seemed to be making the stupid decisions lately. What was the first, you ask? Running away from a crowd of people just to avoid someone who ended finding me anyway. Yeah, I wasn't the brightest—and apparently I was incapable of learning from my mistakes.
Lyle sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Why won't you tell me?” he asked, his brown eyes filled with frustration and a little hurt.
Guilt twisted my insides, but I couldn't fathom why it seemed like I was hurting him. He'd never seemed to care before, why now? I threw my legs over the side of the bed, breathing in deeply as my side throbbed slightly. “I have to go,” I muttered, swallowing as I stood up. The world shifted and swirled, and I found myself starting to fall to the ground.
“Jemma,” Lyle exclaimed, catching me around the waist and keeping me up by holding me against him. “Please, just tell me. What harm could it do?”
The dizziness faded and I stared up at him, eyes wide. What harm could it do? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out. Even so, my mouth opened a few times as I struggled to figure out how to tell him what had happened. In the end, though, I ended up pulling away from him and starting for the door, pausing in the doorway to turn and glance back at him. “Thanks, by the way,” I told him quietly, closing the door and finding my way to my own room.
If things kept up like this between us, I might have something other than just his looks to like—and that wasn't a good thing. Especially since my best friend liked him and was already suspecting that I liked him like that, too. This week was going downhill fast, and it was only Tuesday.
I kept my eyes shut as the door opened and slammed shut. Rachel, I thought, sighing internally. Only she slammed the door everyday for absolutely no reason. I listened to the person move around to Sam's side of the room, though, and drop their stuff to the ground. Then her bed creaked as the someone sat down on it.
“Where were you today?” Sam's voice asked quietly, the anger in her voice not quite masked by the quietness.
My eyes stayed shut, and I focused on my breathing to make sure it looked like I was really asleep. I didn't really want to tell anyone what had happened at lunch, the bruising was enough of a reminder. In fact, I kept my cheek that Vince had hit pressed into my pillow to hide the bruise I could feel developing on it. I guess I wasn't that great of an actor, though, because Sam didn't seem to buy it.
“And why is Lyle asking about how you're doing?” she continued, not even trying to mask her anger and jealousy now. “Why would he do that, Jemma?” She moved and suddenly she was shaking on my shoulder. “Jemma, I know you aren't asleep. Open your eyes and answer me!”
I winced as her shaking pulled on my side and opened my eyes. I looked up at her and frowned. “I don't know why he'd be asking that, Sam,” I murmured, keeping my gaze locked with hers so she didn't realize I was lying.
She scoffed. “Oh, right,” she snapped, stalking back to her bed and sitting on it. “What is going on between you two? You guys have been enemies for the passed eleven years and now, all of a sudden, you're all buddy-buddy with each other?”
I shrugged as best as I could without sitting up. “I honestly don't know,” I told her, and it was the truth. I didn't know what was going on between Lyle and I.
She stared at me, unconvinced. “So where were you at lunch then?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.
I sighed. “I needed to clear my head,” I muttered, staring at the ground. My headache had subsided some, but if the interrogation kept up, it would come back full-force.
“Do you know where Lyle was, 'cause he was missing too.”
“I don't know where he was,” I lied, my voice quiet.
Sam jumped to her feet, stalking over to me again. “Well, we're gonna go find out,” she exclaimed, grabbing onto my wrist and yanking me into an upright position. I gasped as pain stabbed my side and the world spun again. Okay, so maybe the migraine hadn't subsided as much as I'd thought it had. Sam's grasp on my wrist had loosened, and I glanced up at her to see why. She was staring at me, her eyes wide. “What happened?” she whispered, looking horrified.
Knowing exactly what she was referring to, I forced a smile. “You know me,” I told her, removing my wrist from her slackened grasp. “I'm the clumsiest person in the world.” She continued to just stare at me with the same horrified expression, so I added, “I walked right into a pole, can you believe it?”
Her face said that she couldn't, and she frowned. “You ran into a pole?” she repeated incredulously, crossing her arms across her chest.
I opened my mouth to confirm what she'd just said, but a knock on the door interrupted me. Sam opened it to reveal Derrick standing in the hallway, my bag in his hands. “Found this outside the science building,” he explained, lifting my bag in his hands. He stepped into the room and put it on the ground, glancing over at me. Then he winced. “Ouch, what happened?”
I swallowed, staring at my bag on the ground beside my bed. “I ran into a pole,” I told me, pursing my lips. I didn't meet his or Sam's gazes, knowing that Sam would be looking at me skeptically.
“Jeez, you must've been going pretty fast,” he exclaimed, starting to back out the door again. “See you guys at dinner.”
“Bye, Derrick,” Sam said as she shut the door behind him and turned to face me again, her arms crossed. “So did you just forget your stuff when you ran into that pole earlier?”
I glanced up at her and then away again. “I guess I must have,” I remarked, looking everywhere except at her. Her angry gaze was going to burn a hole in my head, I could feel it.
“Jem—” She started to say, but the door opened and pushed her to the side. Rachel and Jane walked in, throwing their stuff beside their beds and settling in. Taking my chance, I lay back down on my bed and closed my eyes. When the door shut again, I could feel Sam staring at me. “Jemma, I know you aren't asleep.”
I ignored her, hoping she'd take the hint.
“What's going on?” Rachel asked, sounding a little too intrigued. I hated how Rachel couldn't keep her nose out of others' business.
There was a moment of silence, and then Sam sighed in frustration. “We're not done talking,” she muttered to me, just loud enough so that only I could hear. Then the door opened and she walked out, the door not clicking very softly behind her.
I swallowed and opened my eyes to stare at the wall across the room. My back was to Rachel and Jane, so there was no way they could tell I was really awake. Something told me that what Sam had said was true, but I was going to avoid having to tell her for as long as I possibly could. I hoped that was a very, very long time.
When dinner time rolled around, I opted for staying in the room. I said I wasn't hungry, and although the Misc sisters and Sam eyed me warily, they left without pushing farther. Actually, I wasn't really hungry, and I didn't feel like accidentally running into Lyle or Vince. One encounter with both of them was enough to last me a life time. I ended up falling asleep a few minutes after everyone had left.