They dim the lights down low in the room, fill multiple bottles with fresh, ice-cold water, and climb into Iris’s bed with me. And, for the next eight to twelve hours, I’m sandwiched between my new best friends. They play with my hair, whisper calming words, tell funny stories, and play old movies on Iris’s laptop in the background that we only half pay attention to.
Emmy tells us about the time she was roofied at a party during her senior year of high school. Thankfully, her friends noticed her strange behavior right away and brought her to the nearest emergency room before an assault could occur. Then Iris tells us about her experience going through cancer treatment; about the slew of medication she had to take and how horrible they’d made her feel for months at a time.
By the time midnight rolls around, my heart rate is nearing normal, and Iris and Emmy are sleeping peacefully next to me. And even though my mind and body are more spent than ever, sleep evades me. But Emmy had warned that’s a pretty common side effect of the drugs, so I’m not too concerned.
I’m far more concerned that, despite every ounce of willpower I can muster, my thoughts remain plagued by Remi Blake. How can a stranger hate me so much to do something this despicable? It makes no sense. I’m not an actual threat. But to him, somehow, I am? Maybe he sees me as some kind of a roadblock on his path to success.Still, that’s no excuse to go drugging people against their will.
For a moment, I consider fighting back. An eye for an eye. But guilt instantly constricts my throat; how could I even entertain the idea of doing something like that? Is being here at this school already changing me that much?
No. I’ll follow my original plan and avoid Remi as much as I can.This issue he has with me is his curse to bear, not mine.
I groan when the first rays of morning light shine through the windows of our dorm room. I have no idea how I’m going to get through today, but I know I can’t afford to waste this precious, unstructured time. My midterm project is waiting.
Besides, I can’t hide away in my room forever. The world has always been a scary place. I’d just received a terrifyingly cruel reminder of that fact.
16Selfish
Ifeel terrible we had to bail on you guys last night,” I say to Zayne and Franco as we lounge around their living room later that day. Avoiding their gaze, I pick at a loose thread on the cuff of my sweater, not wanting them to see how close I am to drowning in fear, guilt, and embarrassment.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Zayne replies with heat in his voice. I look up to find his normally stoic features twisted in anger. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
I swallow thickly and nod.
Emmy walks into the room a moment later with a homemade tomato and cheese sandwich. With a softclinkshe sets the plate down on the coffee table in front of me. “Come on, eat up.”
“I’m not hungry,” I murmur, averting my gaze again.
“The meds curb your appetite,” Franco says with a jerk of his chin toward the food, “but you still need to eat.”
I let a shaky breath loose and reach for the plate. When I take a tentative bite, the sandwich feels like cotton in my mouth. No matter how many times I chew, I can’t seem to get myself to swallow the bite. It’s only after Iris hands me a glass of water that I’m able to take a sip and get it down.
“God, this isn’t right,” Franco declares, standing to pace aroundthe room. “I know we’re all competitive here—hell, the curriculum and environment are even tailored to ensure it—but this is on a whole different level. This was dangerous.”
Zayne clenches his jaw. “From now on, we’ll look out for you. We won’t let that prick get within spitting distance.”
“Damn right,” Emmy agrees with an emphatic nod.
“Thanks, you guys, really, but that’s not nec—” I’m cut off by the sound of my phone ringing in my purse across the room.
Discarding the barely touched sandwich, I rise to retrieve it. My heart sinks at the name I find on the screen.Noah.
“Sorry. I have to take this.”
They nod as I exit, and I wait until I’m in the kitchen to answer. “Hello?” I say after my thumb swipes to accept the call.
“Hey! Happy Saturday. How was the haunted hay ride? I didn’t hear from you all night.” To another ear, Noah might sound chipper and completely unbothered, but I know him better than that. He’s being enthusiastic to hide the fact that I hurt his feelings by not calling or texting last night.
Silently, I curse myself. I’m already messing this up.
“I’m sorry, Noah. I—”
I what? I forgot to call you because I got drugged by a jealous psychopath who cares so much about being the best that he’d willingly drug a fellow student to intimidate them into submission?
I choke off a twisted, manic laugh that bubbles up in my throat at the thought of actually saying that to him right now.
No. No way. I’m not telling him the truth. He would never understand. He would spend weeks—no, months—trying to convince me to drop out and come back home. Either that or he’d come running to punch Remi’s teeth in. And even though that mental image makes me all too happy, I know I can’t be honest with him right now, because no matter what he’d actually do with the truth, he still doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get why it’sso important to me—being here, with these people,mypeople, learning this craft. I actually feel like I belong here, in a world surrounded by art, even if I don’t necessarily feel safe in it at the moment.
“I fell asleep right when we got back,” I lie. In truth, I haven’t slept since yesterday. My voice sounds hollow, even to my ears.
