“It’s Carly,” she says, not letting go of her boyfriend.
“I know,” I smile at her sweetly, but the venom is clear.God, I hate teenage girls.“Back up.”
“Sorry, Ms. D. I didn’t realize it’s that time of the month for you,” she says with a smile.
Teenage girls are vicious. “Even if it were, it doesn’t change the rules of my room, and you’re already late, not working on your project, and fraternizing. So…” I narrow my eyes at her, still turned in my chair. “Sit down, and get to work, or you can do it in detention after school.”
“Why can’t you just send me in the hallway like a normal teacher?” she groans, letting go of Garth and finding a chair.
“Because it’s so much fun ruining your life.” I tsk and roll my eyes.
Turning back to the girls, Daisy’s eyes are down, pointedly away from Carly, but it’s clear she’s listening to the entire conversation because she presses play on her phone after a few seconds of silence. I chew the inside of my lip and look at the rowdy table with a bad feeling.
“This place reeks of death,” Boone huffs and picks at the sleeves of his shirt before deciding to roll them up around his arms.
“It’s a hospital,” I scowl.
It’d been a while since we’d been in one, but it never fails to make him uncomfortable. It’s the only time he gets antsy. Sometimes I don’t even know why he offers to do this stuff with me.Threatens. He doesn’t offer—he threatens. It's the only out of character thing that Boone does.
“What time is your appointment again?” He asks, looking down at his phone.
“One,” I tell him, just like I’ve told him every hour for the last six.
“Ten minutes,” he responds, like I’m the impatient one.
“You know you didn’t have to come with me,” I say.
“If I didn’t come, you wouldn’t come.” He argues, and he’s not wrong. The only reason I‘m sitting here consoling his feelings is because he made sure I got in the truck. The problem is, the issues with my hands aren’t something the doctors here can do anything about. It’s mental. The closer I get to that day, the worse it gets. Even now, in the middle of the day, my left hand rattles against my thigh no matter how I try to calm it.
“You can wait in the truck, Boone,” I tell him, and he instantly shakes his head.
“No, I promised Sunday I’d be brave.” Boone makes it sound endearing, but I stare at him like he’s nuts.
“You told Day?” I sigh.
“He sure did.” Sunday stands across from me, in her stupid bunny scrubs with her hand on her hip.
“Shouldn’t you be in the ER?” I ask her.
“Maybe.” She narrows those judgmental green eyes on me and demands answers. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I brush her off. Boone snorts. “Shut up.”
“Bri,” Sunday’s voice drops into a territory I know well.
I lift my hand from between my legs and show her.
“It’s back.” She steps forward to get a proper look at it, and I nod.
“It’s worse,” Boone rats me out. A loud announcement comes over the hospital speakers, and I take a second to breathe as we wait for it to die down.
He’s not wrong; it is worse. The closer we get to the anniversary, the more they shake. It’s no different than any year, but for some reason, this year, this far out from everything that happened, it’s like my brain is replaying the memories louder. Unable to forget all the bloodshed, and it wants to remind me on maximum volume that I’m guilty.
That’s what the shake is. It’s guilt.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks when the silence returns, no longer looking at my hand but at me.
“Because of that.” I nod at the unreasonable motherly glare she gives me in the wake of finding out my secret.It’s back.Like the tremors are some kind of unspeakable monster. “It’ll die down again in a couple weeks, we all know it, but Boone wanted to come, so here I am.”
