Page 53 of Bound By Fury

Still, I wonder what happened in the time between the accident and whenever Malachi decided that I wasn’t worth knowing anymore.

Maybe it’s time I give up on ever making things right between us. Lucas just sat here and told me more in five minutes than I’ve been able to get out of Malachi for over a year. He’s living proof that we don’t have to stay angry at each other.

The sound of heels clicking down the hall precedes the door swinging open at the front of the classroom, and I sit straighter in my seat as the teacher flies to the smart board and scribbles her name.

She’s tall and white with a dark-blond bob and nineties-thin eyebrows.

She flicks her gaze between me and the two empty seats where Lucas and Malachi were sitting, her face molded into an unreadable expression. Then she clears her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Okay class, welcome to the first day of History: A Comparative Study of US Values and the Impact on Local Government.” Ugh, a part of my soul dies. “My name is Dr. Rogers. Not Mrs. Not Ms. Doctor. I see a couple of familiar faces and a few new ones, but I won’t waste your time with icebreakers.” The class lets out a collective sigh of relief. “I trust that over time you will get to know one another. I’m going to pass around the syllabus now, and we can do the attendance and go over what to expect this semester.”

I raise my hand when my name is called and ignore the seventeen pairs of eyes that turn to face me. Again. It’s only halfway through the first day of classes, but I’m already so exhausted, there’s a deep throbbing behind each of my eyes. It’s not long before my lids are fluttering shut against my will.

When the bell rings, I jerk awake from a dreamless twilight sleep and scramble to shove my things into my bag. As I walk past the teacher’s desk, her eyes follow me closely, a disapproving scowl carved into the thin set of her lips.

NINETEEN

THE TABOR FAMILY MEMORIAL LIBRARY has Frankensteinian walls of limestone and aged brick covered in thick ropes of ivy. They climb in a lattice of green pockmarked with patches of sweet-smelling honeysuckle that wrap around the long ivory columns framing the entrance.

Once inside, the large main room is reminiscent of wandering the stacks in Pine Grove while my mother studied for her master’s degrees—an education in the sciences her revenge against the delusion of magic that stole her husband.

My chest warms as I breathe in the musty tang of old books, trailing along the towering red oak shelves, fingers thudding against the spines of clothbound texts. I bypass the central desk and head toward the back of the main floor.

Earlier in the week, Daisy, Sam, and I ventured down to the Village for Cheerwine floats from Bada Bing’s Soda Shoppe and a pop into West Market Vintage.

“So, how’s the first week going?” Daisy had asked over a rack of crewnecks.

I held a black and gold Wake Forest Tennis Club crew up to my chest and frowned. “I guess it’s been fine.”

In reality it’s been overwhelming. I don’t know what I was expecting, but Black Mountain Academy is nothing like my old school. There was no week of throwaway assignments and busywork while students get acclimated to their new schedule. Every one of my classes started intensely from the very first day. My only saving grace is that my Exploration of Medium in Fine Arts course has been everything I dreamed of. Creamy new supplies and sectioned units and structure. Our first class module is ceramics.

Sam walked up holding a pair of green Sambas. “Yeah, it’s a little extra the first few weeks. Especially as a transfer.”

Daisy nodded. “I already have a chem lab test coming up next week, and I want to blow my brains out.”

“That’s not funny,” Sam said, as they leaned against a cement pillar and adjusted their glasses.

Daisy’s cheeks grew pink. “You’re right, sorry. I have a chem lab test coming up next week, and I’d rather be hit by a semi. Gun violence is not a joke.”

Sam sighed, shaking their head, “That’s not—I’m… what? Suicide shouldn’t be a joke either Daze.”

“Oh! OMG, yeah, that too. Sorry, Sam is right. I’ll try to stop saying that kind of thing from now on. But Harper,” Daisy said as she eyed me through a sheer bodysuit, “what else is going on?”

It hasn’t stopped being unsettling, the way Daisy seems to see right through me.

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging. I did know, but I wasn’t sure how to put it into words.

“Harper,” Daisy chastised, prodding me with her deep brown eyes.

“It’s just…” I plopped down onto the bench behind me. “She’s haunting me.”

“What?” Sam squeaked at the same time Daisy said levelly, “Gigi?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “Not literally, obviously.” Sam looked relieved, and Daisy just shrugged as if she wouldn’t mind if it were in the literal sense. “The campus—every corner of it is filled with her. The gates, the brick road, the fountain, the quad, and every place I’d never been before, but now I’m constantly wondering if she stood there too; if she sat at those desks, if she felt the things I feel. I can’t get out of my head long enough to actually experience any of it. I know that sounds crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Daisy said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Life after death is so fucking weird. Someone doesn’t have to be a ghost in order to linger. Though maybe she is always around you, attempting to tell you something. Have you tried speaking to her?”

I thought back to the forest and the apparition and shivered. “I don’t know,” I said. “Sometimes I wish I could just forget her.”

I regret the words the second they’re out of my mouth. That’s not true. I could never forget her, and I’d never want to. I just wish I didn’t have to be in so much pain all the time.