Page 24 of Hallowed Bones

“When was I doing that?” Liz gripes, but Elodie ignores her and directs her attention to me.

“Are you sure he’s not bothering you?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s nothing for you to worry about,” I assure her, my lips twitching as I watch Liz sneak her hand onto Elodie’s tray at her distraction and snag a carrot. “We’re not even friends or anything—he just walked me to class.” A class that he didn’t have to go to and probably made him late for his own, but I don’t say as much.

“Well, if you’re—Elizabeth!” Elodie straightens and snatches the second carrot that Liz is attempting to sneak off her plate with a hard look. “If you wanted carrots, you should’ve gotten them for yourself.”

Liz’s whine is cut short as a small child clears his throat from where he’s standing at the edge of the table.

“Oh my fuck!” Elodie jumps, putting a hand to her chest. “Byron! You’ve got to make some noise or one of these days someone’s going to hit you when you appear out of nowhere like that.”

Byron, the kid, I guess, blinks at her and then nods as if he understands before turning to me and holding out a white envelope. I stare at it and then look at Elodie and Liz. Elodie waves her hand. “Go on,” she says. “He’s harmless, if not way too quiet for a kid.”

“Uh … who is he?” I ask, feeling slightly uncomfortable asking her and not the kid himself when he’s standing right there, but he doesn’t say anything and merely gestures with the envelope in his hand again to get me to take it.

“He’s one of the professors’ kids,” she explains.

Byron continues to stare at me, the fall of black hair over his face nearly shielding his equally dark eyes. I lean forward and pluck the envelope from his hand, only realizing after the fact that it’s printed with my name in dark ink on the front. Byron remains for a moment, peering at me, and then, without another word, he turns and leaves. I glance around, but no one in the cafeteria seems to find it odd that such a young child is walking through the school unattended, and he moves with such confidence that it’s clear he knows the layout.

“God,” Liz breathes, slumping in her seat once he’s gone. “That kid really freaks me out sometimes.”

Elodie sighs. “I feel bad for him,” she admits. “He probably doesn’t have a whole lot of friends.”

“Why is he here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t he be in school or something?”

Elodie’s face screws up, a crinkle furrowing her brow. She pushes two fingers into either temple as if she’s struggling to remember the answer. “I think…” she begins. “That he’s some sort of genius.” She sighs, letting her hands drop again. “He lives on campus with his parents and does online schooling, but he often gets finished with it so fast that a lot of the other professors and administrators send him on errands to keep him busy.”

“He needs to be socialized with kids his own age,” Liz mutters, and I can’t help but quietly agree.

I refocus my attention on the envelope he’d given me. “I’m gonna head out,” I say absently, fingering the letters of my name as I pick up my half-eaten lunch. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Elodie and Liz wave me off as I go, and I return the tray on my way. Once I’m outside, I rip open the seal and pull out the letter that’s inside. It’s from Amelie, asking that I come to her office at my earliest convenience.

Anxiety burrows out from my bones and invades my bloodstream. Is it something I’ve done? Did something about my school records come in that would make them rescind my acceptance? Notes from my therapists? Did Elodie make a complaint about my nightmares?

Question after question spirals from my head. On their heels are answers—they had to already have my records. Therapists can’t share my information unless it’s potentially harmful to myself or others. Nothing I ever told any of them was. And I’ve been quiet in the dorm room. Not once have I woken Elodie up. My screams are always silent, and my tears are gone by the time the sun rises.

So what is it? Why is she calling me to her office now? I’m so focused on the letter as I fold the paper up and shove it into my pocket that I don’t notice anyone ahead of me until I’m slamming face-first into his chest.

“Shit!” Shocked, I stumble back and nearly lose my balance, or would have were it not for the man’s arm that jerks out and grabs ahold of me before I can go down. “I’m sorry.” My apology is muffled as I cup my hand over my stinging nose as I look up. “I wasn’t looking where—”

What’s the saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Apparently, the devil was fucking listening in on girl talk and has a wicked sense of humor.

Green eyes full of rich intensity meet mine. “It’s all right,” Reyes says, his lips curving upward in a way that makes my heart jump directly into my throat and cut off all my air.

Liz’s earlier words slip through my head—Reyes … They definitely share.

My gaze falls to his mouth—his full lips—and I recall what it felt like to kiss him in my dream. If Dream Boy is half as good of a kisser in real life as he is in my head, then he’s fucking deadly.

“I was definitely not looking where I was going,” he says. His eyes skate over my face, and his smile falters. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—” Wetness oozes from my nose and hits my upper lip. Fuck. Me, I think. This cannot be happening. “I’m fine.” I finish what I’d been about to say quickly, turning away and lifting a hand to my nose.

“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding.” Reyes follows me, grabbing my arm and turning me toward him. “Let me take a look.”

I lean away from him. “I’m—” He doesn’t let me finish as he tugs at my wrist. A gasp escapes me as electricity arcs down my arm from where our skin brushes, and I gape at him. If he feels it too, he doesn’t show it. Reyes is completely focused on my face, pressing his lips together as he takes in the damage.

“Damn it,” he mutters. The pulsing current fizzles out, and a new one rises up to take its place as Reyes places two fingers under my chin and forcefully lifts my head. “You need to go to the infirmary.”