“And with good reason. Quinn and I just snuck through that secret passage and listened in to their conversation.” I told Trey everything I remembered of what we’d overheard, about how the god’s powers were waning outside the school, how Ms. West was getting impatient for what she saw as herreward, and how his father was going to find leverage on me, whateverthatmeant.
Trey rested his head in his hands. “Fuck.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Hazel.” He turned to me, and his amber eyes swam with tender regret. The Trey Bloomberg who gripped my fingers like he was holding on for dear life wasn’t the same as the cruel King who’d tormented me. Soft heat glowed in my chest. For the first time, he lowered his perfect rich bad boy facade, and behind it was the same chaos that lurked inside me.
“I’m here.”
Trey rubbed a finger over my knuckles, and it was one of the most tender things I’d ever felt. He let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry they chose you. I’m sorry because I let you make that stupid fucking deal. Mostly, I’m sorry for making your life here so miserable before.”
Whoa. An apology.I didn’t expect that. “Were you that cruel to all the scholarship students?”
“I learned from the best.” Trey looked away again. “No, I wasn’t. At the party… I was holding you over the edge. I wanted the others to think I was going to drop you, but I made sure I held you tight. I was never going to drop you. We knew that hurting you hurt the god. Ms. West told us to lay off, but we thought if we pushed a little further, we might be free. But then your body went limp. Youwantedto die and I…” he gulped. “I know I did that. I broke your spirit. It was what I was supposed to do, but I hate myself for it and I know I can’t ever make it up to you, but…”
“Don’t do that,” I choked out.
“I’m trying to apologize to you.”
“Yes, and you didn’t do a bad job, for your first time. But don’t be sorry for them choosing me. You had nothing to do with it, and besides,I’mnot sorry. It seems to me I was exactly what this dump needed.” I stood up and brushed off my skirt. “And as for making it up to me, I know what will be a good start.”
“What?”
I beckoned him with my finger. “Dry your eyes, rich boy. Follow me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
We went back to my room and waited until dark. It was strange seeing Trey Bloomberg sitting on the edge of my shitty bed, his gorgeous ass sinking into the broken springs as he tried to pretend he wasn’t freaked out by the scritch-scritch-scritch of the rats in the walls. Surprisingly, we found a lot to talk about – books we enjoyed, movies we hated, dreams we gave up on.
When the clock struck eleven, I hauled him to his feet and shoved him out the door. Trey trailed after me as we crept across the atrium into the classroom wing. Our feet padded against the polished stone floors. At the end of the hall, I stopped outside the door to the art suite. Neither Trey nor I were taking art as a subject, but I’d spent enough time in the art suite at my old school with Dante that I figured they’d have what I wanted.
Annoyingly, they didn’t. After picking the lock on the studio door, I searched all the cabinets but couldn’t find any spray paint. Apparently, rich kids spent their time trying to copy the masters instead of experimenting with street art. Never mind. I found some thick square-headed brushes and two cans of red paint. I shoved them into Trey’s hands.
“Why do we need these?” He asked.
“You ask too many questions, Bloomberg.” I threw the door open and beckoned him to follow me. “Come on, spoiled King. Keep up.”
* * *
“Hazel, what are we doing here?”
Trey and I stood opposite the gym, staring up at the dressed stone facade of the building.
I gestured to the wall with my brush. “I thought it was obvious. We’re going to graffiti that wall.” I shoved the edge of the palette knife under the rim of the can and popped off the lid.
Trey’s eyes bugged out of his head. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I grinned.
“Why not?Because that wall has stood for over five hundred years. Parris laid the first stone himself. It’shistorical.”
“So? It will continue to stand. It will just be a little… decorated.” I swirled my brush around in the paint. “Come on, Trey. You said yourself, there’s no future behind the walls of this school. The only reason people don’t do shit like this is because they’re afraid. But what’s there to be afraid of when you’re already fucking dead?”
“Plenty.” A shudder ran through Trey’s body.
“Okay fine, so that star-gobbling deity could devour your soul or whatever. But if it’s so all-powerful, it’s got better things to do than worry about a couple of kids slapping some paint on a wall. Here, I’ll show you.”
“Hazel, no!” Trey grabbed for my brush, but I darted around him and slapped a long diagonal line across the stones. Red paint dribbled down the wall, like rivers of blood.
