ASHER
The lecture hall at Marrowton Academy reeks of damp wood and stale coffee, the kind of place where the walls seem to lean in, heavy with years of pretentious arguments. I click my pen. Out, in, out, and in. Again, and again. Each snap grates on Ruella, her shoulders stiffening like she’s bracing for a fight. From my seat behind her, I can see her hand tapping her thigh, fingers twitching with irritation. She shifts forward, trying to put distance between us, and I let a smirk tug at my mouth, knowing she can’t escape me.
The benches are packed tight, barely an inch between rows, worn smooth by decades of students like us. I lean in just enough to close the gap she’s fighting for, my breath practically on her neck. She’s trapped, and we both know it.
She huffs, sharp and annoyed, as I switch to tapping the pen on the desk, right by her ear. Mr. Chapman’s voice drones on about global stability, his lecture as useless as the faded chalkboard behind him. I don’t care. I’m focused on her; on the way she’s unravelling.
Ruella appears worn out. She’s put together, but disappointingly, a little less flashy than her first couple of days. The dark circles under her eyes give away her exhaustion, like she’s been up all night arguing with herself. She’s on edge, and I’m poking at it, simple as a pen tap. I know I shouldn’t, but screwing with her is the only thing that makes this place bearable. Marrowton’s all grey stone and suffocating rules, but Ruella?She’s a spark in the gloom. Her anger lights up, all fire and defiance, and damn if it doesn’t get my blood pumping.
“Can you stop with the fidgeting?” She whisper shouts between herself and Corden beside her. Her face turning my way slightly, but her eyes stay glued to the professor up front.
I grin showing my teeth. “I don’t know what you mean?”
I watch as she rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You know exactly what you are doing. Now pack. It. In!”
I chuckle, getting ready to come back with something annoying to vex her even more, but Corden puts his arm around her shoulder and leans into whisper something in her ear. Something I can’t hear, and it pisses me off.
She grins at him before he retrieves his arm and sends me an unamused look.
I almost growl as he dismisses me.
Who the fuck is this guy.
I grit my teeth to stay silent, sending daggers into the back of his head, hoping he receives the images I am willing him to receive of my fist laying into his face. The vibration in my pocket pulls me out of my hate fuelled daydream.
Shit.
I grip my phone so tight I feel the pain shoot through my palm. I abruptly stand up and gather my things as quickly as I can. With hurriedsteps I practically run down the stairs of the lecture hall towards the doorway, not giving a single second to the voices picking up around me.
“Mr. Vander. Where the hell do you think you are going?” Mr. Chapman shouts out as I grip the handle.
“Sit. Down. Now,”
I look him in the eyes, and I feel the skin wrinkle on the bridge of my nose, lifting my top lip into more of an animalistic snarl. “Fuck off,”
Then I rush out and down the hallway, my leather shoes clapping on the stone as I rush to the only girl who matters. Like all the teachers here, Mr. Chapman knows no matter what I do or say, I will get no punishment. He hates it, but he knows his place.
I burst through the door to the bathroom and my heart drops at the vision before me. My best friend Jacob, with his arms wrapped around the shaking small frame. The top of her brown hair the only thing visible from her face buried into her knees. Jacob appears as helpless as I feel. Like he wishes he could take away every bit of her pain, but he can’t. None of us can.
I close the distance and crouch down in front of her. My hand softly running over her hair in a soothing motion, as her sobs fill the empty room.
“Pip,” I say quietly. “I’m here. What’s happening?” I try to pour water on the raging fire building inside of me. I am still so angry after everything. It keeps me up at night thinking about what could have been, what others I know are going through. How lucky I am to have her safe before me.
“Ash” her tiny timid voice whispers as she finally lifts her head. My heart breaks at the scared vulnerable look on her face, the red rims around her now dull green eyes what once shone like a beacon. “I’m sorry,”
I shake my head. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” I sit down on her side opposite to Jacobs, he has his head down, but I can see the worry on his features.
She nods. “I do, I pulled you from another class,” She hiccups through more tears. “I don’t think I can be here. Every time I try to get on with life, I go back to…”
“Stop,” I grab her hand and hold it in mine. “You don’t need to explain. You have us. We will always drop everything for you,” I smile gripping her slight hand tight as Jacob nods in agreement.
“Every time I close my eyes, I’m there,” She whispers. “Sometimes even when I am awake,” I swallow the lump in my throat. I thought that I stopped the worst from happening, but this slow descent Piper is currently on is torture, and I can’t help her.
“I can’t concentrate. I can’t sleep or eat. I can’t even bring myself to dance. I am exhausted Asher,” I feel my nose wrinkle, fighting the fizz of fury behind my ribs, as Jacob runs his hands through his hair.
Piper finally turns and looks at me. Her face that used to be full of life now a ghostlike emptiness. “Mom said that if I truly couldn’t get on with life then she would allow me to go home,” I grind my teeth at the mention of my mother. Well, calling her a mother is like calling me pleasant, the two words just don’t make sense. I hold down the need to snap at Piper for calling our mother instead of coming to talk to me.
I nod. “If that’s what you need, then I’ll come back too,” I know I have goals and that won’t change, but if I need to adjust them I will. For her I will. My mother can barely take care of herself, how would she cope with my little brother Lance and a traumatized Piper on top of that.
