The doors all along the corridor start to open, and students pour out. Suddenly, we’re in the middle of a crowd. Several people ogle me as they walk past.
I get it. I’m new here, andhereis small. But still, it’s grating. One guy, who’s like forty, is just standing in the middle of the hallway, gawking at me. Everything about him is faded and pale. From his pasty skin to his dull, dust-colored hair to his colorless lips. He’s like one of those frumpy professor types, his clothes all askew, his tie almost completely undone, his shirt untucked, and his cardigan badly buttoned.
Dude looks like shit, yet he’s eyeingmelike I’m the turd here.
I’m about to go up to him and ask what his problem is, but all of a sudden, pain wrenches my muscles and fire streaks through my veins.
What the hell?
My shoulder muscles spasm and bunch, and it hits me that I forgot to take the pain pills this morning. And yesterday, since I was passed out. Or maybe it’s the shot the doc administered. When’s my next one supposed to be again?
As I rack my brain, Cadence says, “I really have to go, but I’ll see you later?” She sounds hopeful, and it makes my pain take a giant leap back.
Before she can get very far, two girls, who look familiar, approach us.
The one with the super short hair says, “Hey, Cadence, I’ve been meaning to ask . . .”
A fresh wave of pain slams into me. I can see the girl’s mouth move but can’t hear anything. It’s like I’m underwater again. As I force myself to take even breaths, I focus on a freckle on the second girl’s chin. The hallway blurs, but not that brown dot. I feel like if I can just keep that in my central vision, I won’t faint in fucking agony.
A hand touches my forearm—Chin-freckle’s—and I stiffen. I want to fling her off, but a bolt of electricity makes me cramp up. I breathe hard, as though oxygen could somehow lessen the effect of my battle wounds. I even shut my eyes.
And thenpoof!
The pain’s gone. I lick the sweat off my top lip and crack open my lids. Even though I don’t miss it, I wonder where it went. Did my breathing just defeat it?
“Great. I’ll email you the rest of the deets,” Pixie-hair says, then spears her arm through Chin-freckle’s.
They turn in perfect synchronicity, their narrow hips swaying.
Suddenly, Pixie-hair flips back around. “Oh. And, Cadence, you’re welcome to bring your boyfriend.”
Cadence’s hands fumble off her crossbody bag’s strap, and her cheeks burn as pink as the terracotta statue at her back. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she mumbles.
Chin-freckle leans over to whisper something in her friend’s ear. The girl with the short hair smiles and bobs her head. And then Chin-freckle winks at me.
“Bye, Slate.” She wiggles her fingers before turning back around.
What the hell just happened? I’m about to ask Cadence who they were when she grunts.
“Birthday party. Adrien will hate it.”
I rub the back of my neck, but my fingers collide with my Band-Aid, and I wince. Which reminds me of the agony I was in a minute ago. Could another piece be nearby? But if it is, how come it’s gone? Shouldn’t it still be killing me?
“Adrien’s birthday’s coming up?” I ask, so as not to worry Cadence in case itisanother piece. As soon as she leaves I’ll walk around the hall and see if my ring lights up.
“Yeah. Next week. If you hadn’t been so busy checking out Jasmine, you might’ve caught on.”
I frown. Jasmine?
Cadence backs up. Stops. Her lips part as though she’s about to say something, but then she shakes her head and strides away, abandoning me with the oversized warlord.
“Women,” I tell him, shaking my head before pulling off my glove and walking up and down the hallway he guards.
The red oval glints from the sunshine pouring through the gazebo but doesn’t light up, and my body doesn’t feel like it’s being quartered again. Pain killers. That’s what I need before my next flareup. And a shirt that doesn’t have blood smears on the collar. No one can see them with my coat on, but without it, I’ll be Brume’s grand attraction now that it’s no longer the well.
26
Cadence
