Page 34 of Queen of Nothing

She went into labour right there.

It was horrifying.

Her family rushed her out of the crowd, and I just remember how she walked.

How she waddled.

Serena makes an awful grunting noise before she slowly, clumsily, drops to the earth at my side.

Her legs stretch out before she leans her weight back onto one straight arm, hand pressing into the soil. Her other hand rests on the underside of her belly.

She faces the opposite direction, watching Hell House stand against the horizon, and I stare out at the barren landscape.

“Back to sulking?” Her voice is too breathy. “You know Sofía doesn’t want you out here. She will start giving us fines if you’re not careful.”

I don’t respond.

There’s no point.

We’ve had this conversation too many times.

Sofía hasn’t given out any fines yet.

And I still haven’t stopped sneaking off into the only glimpse of privacy on the property.

Sweat dampens the back of my baseball cap. I rub at it, and the crunching sound of my hair would send Mother into a frazzled frenzy if she were here.

I sometimes wish she was—but I don’t say that.

Instead, I ask, “Is the bathroom free yet?”

I’ve been waiting all morning for a shower.

Though, of course I did give up on that and come out here after a few hours of going in and out of our bedroom, checking on the bathrooms, and failing each time.

My patience is withering.

At home, I have my own bathroom.

A full ensuite, the shower, the tub, the toilet, the basin, the towel closet… and Abigail.

At the academy, there are plenty of showers to go around. So even if there is a queue, the wait isn’t very long at all.

My mind snags on the academy—and the truth that it all continues without us. The senior year doesn’t stop just because we vanished into the night.

My brother, Dray, Asta, Landon, even Eric, they all continue on. It’s a strange realisation.

My voice is a murmur, “Everyone will be graduating this week.”

But of course, Serena already knows. She just doesn’t care.

Not like I do.

There’s no part of her, however small, that wishes she was there with the rest of the seniors, finally graduating after all that time and turmoil and torture.

After a long moment, she asks, “Is that why you come out here? To think about home? We’re not supposed to do that.”

One of Sofía’s rules. I don’t understand the rule entirely, or why she feels the need to control our thoughts here.