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I’d dodged my own brother’s questions about him today, and before I could think about why, I got up.
“Let me know if you hear anything from the guys,” he said to me. His arms dropped over his legs. “And I’m sure you’ll hear from Dorian soon. He and his family are probably just busy like you said. Maybe his parents just need time for all this to blow over.”
Normally, I’d pass that off, tell my brother Dorian and I weren’t a thing and he needed to mind his own business.
I just nodded today, only one concern on my mind. My brother was the most important thing, his well-being and our survival. I didn’t have time for anything else. The pair of us were alive. We were good, and there wasn’t time to think about anything else. Anything else would be foolish.
Anything else was foolish.
Chapter Ten
Sloane
I basically ignored Legacy over the next few days.
They made it easy.
When I wasn’t ignoring them, they were ignoring me. The only place we really collided was lunch, and since they sat in the courtyard with their groupies, I didn’t see them anyway. I was once again on my lonely island, and as the days passed, I preferred it that way. I’d been nothing but anxiety-ridden since I’d gotten to this fucking school, and with my brother being out, one more thing to not have to worry about was a good thing. Bruno’s fever had broken, but whatever bug that “bit” him still lingered. He still had the aches and chills, and I’d been paranoid enough to call the doctor again. Dr. Richardson happily came out and changed his meds to ease his symptoms more. The meds, in general, made my brother super sleepy, though, so he was basically asleep whenever I saw him now.
It’d been over a week of this, a week of stress and strain. Since Bru wasn’t getting any worse, there was that, but something in my mind couldn’t help but focus on how he’d gotten this. My brother didn’t get sick, and I could only conclude him and that dumb haze had been the cause. Who knew what was in that water that night he’d dove in.
Dorian may have saved my brother only for him to get sick and die anyway. I was probably being dramatic, but the thoughts chilled me.
Don’t think about Dorian. Don’t.
I did enough—when I wasn’t stressing about my brother—while I was working in my studio. I did that just to give my mind something to do. My new series was the second priority in my life. In fact, I worked so much on the project I almost always missed Callum’s calls to check in on my brother and me. He had gotten back to me before. He was on business and traveling as per usual. With as freaked out as my brother’s situation was making me, I nearly asked him to come back, but I wasn’t about to disrupt his life. Not when he’d been so good to us. Our guardian was giving us just what I’d asked for when our father passed away, space.
Even if I felt mad within it.
I actually started working on my series at school too just to get out of my head. I had several advanced art classes at Windsor Prep, but also found myself with a free period. It used to be filled as a student assistant for Principal Mayberry.
That obviously wasn’t the case now, and Mr. Keene, our assistant principal, gave me the option to use the time how I wanted. He was taking over for Mayberry at the present, I assumed until the position was filled, and I took full advantage of the situation when I asked him if I could work on my art in one of the academy’s art rooms. They had like a dozen in this rich-ass school that weren’t being used every period.
I chose one of the biggest rooms with the best gear, my earbuds in when I pushed into the room that day. I hadn’t expected the room to be occupied.
Nor to hold a Legacy boy.
Ares Mallick had his legs propped up on a chair, ankles crossed, and a sketchpad in his hands. I should have been able to tell who he was by the sheer size of the guy alone, but it took me a moment to realize he was the large football player. He had a black hoodie on over his academy uniform, his hood up and his curls falling out of the front. I supposed the curls alone would have given him away. Not many had the crazy volume his did when he let them go.
His head lifted when I opened the door and his feet dropped to the floor when I came inside.
He sat up. “What are you doing in here?”
I could ask him the same question. I shrugged. “I chill in here sometimes.” I took my bag off. “It’s my free period. Not much to do.”
No one would know that more than him. He was well aware I’d had my free period with Mayberry this hour. He and his friends had planned to kidnap her and make that video during the time.
They’d obviously ended up doing something else, and Ares watched me under a more than observant gaze when I crossed the room. The way he eyed me, one would think he thought I’d shoot him.
“Right,” he said, finger tapping his sketchpad. The thing was huge, and he had a piece of charcoal in his hands. I recalled him saying he liked to do art, but this boy wasn’t in any art classes. I took like all of them, so I’d know.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked.
He gave me a look like it was obvious. I supposed we were in an art room, and he did have a sketchpad.
He eased into his hoodie after I said it, and I wondered if he was using it to hide his face. Good tactic really, as hoodies were allowed as long as they had the school’s insignia. His read Windsor Prep Football and happened to have the king on it, the large gorilla that was the school’s mascot.
Catching a glance of his face, I noticed it wasn’t as bad as the last time I’d seen him, the bruising more yellow today.
