Page 74 of Scarred Crown

“What?” All the color leaves her face.

“You heard me.” I shake off her hand and step backward to head toward the exit.

A steel rod goes up her spine, and she stomps after me, keeping pace. “Your arguments were shitty today. If I had a better partner, we’d have won.”

“You still wouldn’t have been on the right side.” I turn to propel the door open with my back so I can see her off. Even when I almost hate her, I can’t help myself. “Bellerive will never approve assisted suicide as long as I’ve got something to say about. Which I will, of course.”

“It was a hypothetical argument in a debate co-curricular. None of it means anything. When did you become such an asshole?” Julia practically vibrates with frustration.

“I didn’t think you had a problem with assholes.” I shrug. Then I’m out the door and headed down the path to the soccer fields.

Within seconds my phone pings in my pocket. I take it out and there’s a text from Julia.

I’m sorry. Okay? I won’t be late again for debate. Can we just, like, call a truce or whatever? I don’t understand what’s gotten into you.

I click reply and stare at the message, unsure what to write. A thousand different replies stream through my consciousness.

Truce? We’re not fighting. It’s fine.

You can’t just do whatever you want and expect zero consequences.

You’re fucking my brother behind my back, and I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you.

None of them properly convey the sucking wound in my chest. I close my phone and don’t respond.

Maybe Julia is happy. Maybe being with Alex makes her happy. She certainly didn’t seem unhappy pressed up against the wall. I don’t want to hear her tell me she’s sorry, but she’s in love with my brother. I can’t even pass that spot anymore without my stomach fluttering with anxiety. Hearing her say the truth out loud will ruin me. At least I can keep myself busy enough that my imagination can’t run too wild.

But if she told me, if the words left her lips, I’d never be able to unhear them.

When I get to the locker rooms, I take my phone out of my pocket and stare at her message again. I take a deep breath.

We’re cool, Jules. I’m just having a shitty day.

Her response is almost immediate. I can come by later?

I’m still staring at her response, part of me longing to say yes, and another part of me desperate to avoid her. How do I fix this? A second text from her rolls in.

I know you said we were going to forget about what happened in the barn, but we haven’t been the same since. Maybe we just need to be honest with each other?

My heart pounds, and I can feel my jaw clench with tension. One of the other players comes past and claps me on the back. Honest with each other? That ship has sailed.

“You’re gonna be late,” he says to me before disappearing into the locker room.

I’m with Vicky. She’s my girlfriend. I’m happy. If you’ve got something to say, go ahead. I’m not stopping you. As far as I’m concerned, we’re fine.

I hit send in a rush of frustration and anger. Every word of my text is bullshit, and when I get out of practice to find Julia hasn’t responded, I’m not even surprised.

Now we’re both liars.

Julia

There’s a chorus of bells in my dream. Church bells? No, that’s not right. I crack one eye open, and my head pounds. When I try to sit up, the room sways.

“Oh God,” I mumble. “I think I’m still drunk. Nick?”

He’s on the bed beside me, dressed in the same T-shirt and jeans from yesterday, and he’s not even under the covers.

There’s a bandage on my finger, but I don’t remember hurting myself last night. I stare into the distance. I actually don’t remember much at all.