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“Fine,” I agreed grumpily. “Let’s go.”
She smiled and tucked a piece of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. She grabbed her purse—
and guess what? It was pink. Of course. Its bright color was a stark contrast to my skull and crossbones messenger bag.
Thea and I headed to the dining hall. I was surprised when she didn’t fill every second with chatter. Instead, it was almost peaceful walking across campus with her at my side. She didn’t know who I was or what I had done. We were strangers and she couldn’t judge me for my sins. There was something comforting in that. For the last year I’d hated myself and the looks from others hadn’t helped in that—seeing the judgment in their eyes. My parents and therapist always assured me that what happened wasn’t my fault, but that was a lie. I might not have been in prison but I was stuck behind bars of my own creation.
I missed the old Rae—or Rachael as I was called then. I missed the girl that laughed and smiled with her friends. I missed the girl that loved her parents and didn’t resent them. I missed the girl that always looked for the positive in life. I missed everything about the old me, but I killed her when I killed them.
“Rae!” Thea called and I halted in my steps. I turned around to look at her and found her standing outside two glass double doors of a brick building. “The dining hall is this way,” she nodded at the building.
Oh.
I backtracked hastily.
“It’s okay,” Thea smiled, despite the fact that I hadn’t apologized from my mistake, “I wouldn’t know where anything is if it wasn’t for my brother.” She opened the door and I followed behind her.
“You talk about your brother a lot, don’t you?” I commented, heading to the counter. I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the cheeseburger they were serving for dinner. If that was a cheeseburger than I was a duck. I picked up a bowl of salad. That seemed like the safer of the two options. Thea picked that as well.
I followed her to a table and took the seat across from her.
“I love my brother, so why wouldn’t I talked about him?”
I lifted my head, confused at first until I realized she was answering my question. I shrugged indifferently and took a bite of salad.
“You don’t talk much,” she stared at me.
I shrugged again. “I don’t have much to say.”
“Everyone has something to say.” She countered with a raised brow.
“Not everyone.”
She sighed heavily and tossed her salad around with the fork. She was growing frustrated with me and I didn’t blame her. If roles were reversed and I had to deal with me I’d get huffy too.
After a few minutes of tense silence she spoke. Her pale green eyes seared me as she stared at me, her lips turned down in a frown. “You know, we don’t have to be best friends but we do have to live together. We should at least try to make it as civil as possible and try to get along.”
“I thought I was trying,” I grumbled. I looked away from her eyes and began to pick at the silvery polish on my nails.
She blew out a breath, causing her bangs to flutter against her forehead. Finally she cracked a smile. “If that’s what you call trying then you’re doing a pretty lousy job.”
“So…I don’t get an A for effort?”
“Definitely not.” She rested her head in her hand. “No stickers for you.”
“Stickers?” I asked with a raised brow.
“Yeah,” she laughed, and it was light and musical sounding. “You know, like teachers give school kids stickers when they do something good.”
I screwed my face up in displeasure. “What kind of school did you go to? No,” I held up finger, “let me guess, some preppy private school.”
Her cheeks turned pink—her favorite color, how appropriate.
“How’d you know?” She asked.
I narrowed my eyes at her fancy clothes. “You have rich kid written all over you.”
I left out the part that I was one of those rich kids. I just didn’t dress or act like it anymore.
