He looks up suddenly, and a pair of silver-gray eyes fasten on mine. My pulse quickens for a moment. I’m sort of disgusted at myself for it. He’s one of those guys who makes your stomach flip, even when you know he’s trouble.
I avert my gaze, wondering what the hell I was thinking bychecking him out. Chase Hedlund is bad news. I heard someone say that he got suspended for drinking on school property.
But somehow my eyes wander back, and I find him watching me, not quite smiling, but the corner of his lips quirked up in something akin to amusement. Then he lowers his head to his phone, dismissing me from his orbit. At Liberty High, all phones had to remain in our lockers or they’d be confiscated. Here we’re allowed to have them on our person but can only use them at lunch or outside of class. Obviously Chase doesn’t care about the rules, because he’s still scrolling when our teacher walks into the room.
Mr.Morrison is the kind of teacher who loves the sound of his own voice, especially when he’s reciting passages fromMacbeth. It isn’t long before I find myself tuning him out, my gaze drifting toward the window. I stare at the fluttering leaves and swaying branches of the trees. Everything is still so green. I’m not looking forward to when the leaves fall. When the branches go bare and turn into gnarled, twisted skeletons. I have a feeling Starling is ugly in the winter. When it comes to nature, though, ugly can be so, so beautiful. I’m excited to photograph the forest when the temperature dips and the—
“Ryan? Chase? Am I boring you?”
I jolt out of my reverie and see Mr.Morrison’s crooked smile.
“Care to share what you find so captivating beyond that window? Seeing as how both of you have been staring out of it the past ten minutes?” The teacher doesn’t sound angry, but curious.
Behind me, Chase doesn’t say a word.
I shift in my seat, shrugging. “I was just, um, admiring the trees,” I mumble, which gets me a few snickers from my classmates. “Looks peaceful out there.”
Mr.Morrison turns toward the window. He’s quiet for a moment. Then he faces the class with a sudden smile. “You know what? I think you’re right, Ryan. It does look peaceful.” He claps his hands together. “All right, gang, grab your things. We’re moving the discussion portion of today’s class outside.”
“Fuckyeah!” a boy shouts, only to get reprimanded for his language.
Excitement ripples through the room as we gather our books and backpacks. Everyone is suddenly high on the promise of fresh air.
We file outside into the lush courtyard, where Mr.Morrison splits everyone into pairs and assigns us a theme to discuss. He gives us ten minutes to chat privately before we’re expected to share with the rest of the group.
I’m paired with Chase, I suspect as punishment for our daydreaming.
We settle under the shade of a tall oak tree. I awkwardly lean against the uneven trunk and stretch out my legs. Chase sits a few feet away, looking bored.
“So…” I sigh. “Guilt.”
Because of course Mr.Morrison assigned us the theme of guilt. The universe has a sick sense of humor and the uncanny ability to reach into your soul and pull out your darkest secrets.
Ever since I got to Starling, all I’ve felt is guilt.
“What about it?” Chase says.
“We’re supposed to talk about it.”
“So talk.”
Gritting my teeth, I open my dog-eared copy ofMacbethand flip through it. “I guess…I don’t know…the play shows howguilt has the ability to completely destroy a person, right? Mentally. Emotionally. Macbeth’s guilt eats at him and drives him to do worse and worse things.”
Chase shrugs.
“And Lady Macbeth can’t escape it either. She basically becomes a shell of her former self.”
“Never understood that,” he surprises me by saying. “I never feel guilty about anything.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true. If I fuck up, I don’t carry that weight around. I own it and move on.”
I can’t stop the laugh that flies out.
Chase flicks up a brow. “What?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking how funny that is. You’re over hereneverfeeling guilt, meanwhile I feel guilty for things I haven’t even done. Like, on other people’s behalf.”
