His lips give a brief twitch. “None of us have the same experiences of the same people. I’m not going to insist your opinion’s wrong.” His face softens into a wry smile. “Evie hasn’t spoken a word to me or Zane since this happened if that helps. And he didn’t take all my advice because I told him, point blank, to stay the fuck away from you.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes. I’m sure there are other questions I could ask but my mind can’t think of any. After the fright of this morning, I’m fast running out of steam.
Ant reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, and I tense, thinking of a hundred TV shows where a similar move produced a gun. Instead, he offers me a business card. Plain white with only a phone number on it. “Here. This is good for one freebie.”
I stare at it, disquieted by the thoughts that immediately spring to mind. The horrendous things I could ask him to do. “No, thanks,” I eventually say in a quiet voice. “I don’t need your help.”
Ant holds my gaze for a long moment, then rests the card on my leg. “Not now, maybe. But one day, you might kill a billionaire’s son and need me to clear away the body.”
He delivers the line with such a straight face I can’t help but laugh and any remaining tension eases. I tuck it into my pocket, and he starts the car, driving me right to my door.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AVON
I wake constantlythrough the night, jerking out of dreams or pitch black nothingness, blood pumping like I’ve been running for my life.
My head fills with images from the attack but not the flickering disgust of Mr Simmons and his greasy combover. The internal video is of Zane, his arm in a chokehold around the teacher’s throat, fist pulverising the man’s face, his heel cracking a half dozen ribs, and his eyes, always his eyes, searching for me, checking I’m okay, that I’m safe.
A dozen times I wake in a panic and a dozen times I fall asleep, contented.
In the morning, waiting for the alarm to ring, I also think of how, before Zane arrived, I fought.
Not just with my words and actions, but internally. When my body started to shut down, working against me, I rallied and got things moving the other way.
As I lie in bed, I count my blessings.
Clare, who accepted me from the very first day we met and never stops being a cheerleader. Mum, who took action to get me out of a situation I couldn’t resolve by myself and supports me every day. Dahlia and Evie who are fast becoming friends even though we’re all so different.
And Zane.
His voice in my head, telling me to breathe.
The support he coaxed from his father, who showed me I could become part of the art community without having to navigate its gatekeepers.
If those weren’t in my head, clearing that mental block would have been harder.
I may never return to being the person I was before the bullying started, but I’m learning how to be comfortable with the person I am now.
Another reason to be happy.
I get out of bed and into the shower before my alarm goes off, then realise as I’m drying my hair, it’s not set because I completely forgot to do it on my new phone.
Lucky that I woke up early.
I’m halfway to school when I think of another blessing. The worry I held onto so tightly, that Zane couldn’t possibly feel the way he claimed to feel about me, has gone.
It disappeared when he burst into the classroom, not caring for an instant about the penalties he might incur. Just wanting me to be safe.
The idea is like a warm hug, quickly propelling me the rest of the way.
I’m humming when I arrive at my locker and Clare immediately picks up the altered vibe when she arrives a few minutes later.
She’s in a remarkably better mood as well. “Guess what?”
I hook up my right eyebrow. “You recall how bad I am at this game, right?”
With a dramatic eyeroll, she leans forward to whisper, “Remember the cute rugby slash indoor hockey slash sporting god from a few weeks ago?”
