AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Skye’s anger returned. “Well, now because you slept with me knowing you were going to dump me.”
Craig ran his hand over his stubble-short hair. “I shouldn’t have. I know that. But—it was your idea, remember?”
It had been. She’d felt so empty, so alone, after Dakota’s death. Craig had been her lifeline and her comfort that summer, and she’d thought—maybe if they took that final step, she’d finally feel alive again. Feel anything again. But she’d never dreamed that it wasn’t something Craig wanted, too.
“My idea.” Her eyes were welling with tears now. “Well, thanks for humoring me.”
“That’s not—oh, crap. I know it was a mistake, all right? I know. But I was mixed-up, and I thought maybe it would change things for us. That was stupid. I’m sorry.” Craig’s voice wavered a little; this had upset him as badly as it had her. What right did he have to be so hurt?
And yet, the part of her that remembered being in love with him hated to hear him so broken up. That flicker of feeling—no longer love, but still powerful, still real—upset her as much as anything else she’d been through that day. She didn’t hate him, not down deep, and she wanted to, just because hate was easier. Simpler. Knowing that about herself was hard.
“You shouldn’t have done it,” she repeated, but quietly this time. “You should’ve told me the truth.”
“I couldn’t leave you after Dakota.” While she was dating him, Craig and Dakota had become friends. They used to shoot hoops out in the driveway of the old house. How had she forgotten that?
“All you did was put the pain off until later.” Skye wiped at her eyes. “It didn’t hurt any less.”
Craig looked as guilty as she wanted him to feel. She’d always thought it would help to see him feeling like the scum of the earth. It didn’t.
He said only, “If I had it to do over, I’d do it differently.”
“Whatever. Let’s just drop it, okay? And for the record, knocking Britnee over really was an accident. I didn’t see her. Tell her—tell her I’m sorry.” Skye pulled herself together and hurried out, hoping none of the hall monitors would see her.
When she got to Mr. Bollinger’s room, he was busily leafing through sheet music. “There you are! And here I thought you must have called in sick today.” His voice trailed off as he saw her face. “Uh-oh. What’s the matter?”
Skye tried to turn it into a joke. “Boys are stupid.”
“Don’t I know it.” Mr. Bollinger sighed. “Sit down and take a load off.”
Instead of making her work through the period, he set up the A/V screener and let her watch thirty minutes of Singin’ in the Rain, which as far as she was concerned made him the best teacher ever.
So, ur just ditching study hall?
It’s not ditching, Skye typed as she elbowed her locker shut for the day. If ur a senior, u can sign out up to 2x a week. This is the 1st time I’ve ever signed out. Y not?
Clem replied: B/c vampires r trying to KILL U and staying close to ur bodyguard might be a good idea!
Redgrave’s not going to kill me anytime soon. He could’ve done that yesterday if he wanted to. He didn’t.
Other vampires tried to kill u too. Maybe they got the smack-down, but doesn’t mean they won’t try again.
Clementine had a point. I just can’t be around Balthazar right now.
I get that. But u have to b careful.
She walked through the front doors of the school, where it was still snowing thick and heavy, with big, fat flakes blanketing down so abundantly that the whole world got fuzzy about two hundred yards in the distance. The snowfall hadn’t stopped since last night; the drifts were at least seven inches deep by now. This softening of the world—the muffling of sound, the dimming of light—helped soothe her overwrought senses. This was just what she needed: deep, endless snow.
After rewrapping her muffler around her neck, she sent back, I’ll go to Café Keats. I’ll even take the shortcut nobody uses. Madison can meet me there after school. It was weird that Madison hadn’t wanted to sign out with her, and Skye would have appreciated the company, but if somebody wanted to actually study in study hall, so be it. Even vampires won’t be out in the middle of this.
I guess, Clem replied. But txt me when u get there. Besides, we have to talk more about ur date to the dance!
Skye sighed. Keith had asked her at lunch period, so offhandedly that he either didn’t care if she said yes or not, or wanted her to think he didn’t. It was a huge turnoff, but since the alternative now seemed to be sitting at home and crying about Balthazar, she’d said yes. Sure thing. Next text within 10 minutes, I swear.
Tromping through the drifts was vaguely satisfying; the cornstarch crunch of her boots in the snow was virtually the only sound she could hear, and even her enhanced senses didn’t overreact to that. Skye curved around the school grounds, grateful that the staff had thoroughly salted the paved path and steps. All she had to do was cut through Battlefield Gorge, and she’d be at Café Keats within seconds. The only reason she couldn’t already see it was the blinding snow—
He’s scared, he doesn’t know what to do, war isn’t like this in the books or the prints Mama showed him. There are no straight lines, there is no one telling him what to do. There are only men running at him to kill him, and he has to kill them or else. Why did no one tell him how sad he would feel to kill someone?
Damned musket! The whoreson thing won’t reload and the damned frogs are on him now!
