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I wanted to say something, to thank him for not taking away the one bit of peace I had left.
But instead, I lifted my head and went back to practicing.
Chapter 8
My strange truce with Finn apparently didn’t extend outside of the small, abandoned dance studio on the second floor of the gym. Outside of that little sixth period haven, I continued to be harassed and teased, shoved in the halls and ganged up on by kids looking to get in good with the Princes.
That was one of the shittiest parts about it.
These people who were making my life miserable weren’t doing it because they hated me—there was no way I could’ve personally offended or pissed off so many people. They were doing it because someone else told them to.
Or rather, four someones.
It was strange. Finn was still an arrogant, cocky asshole when he showed up every day to chill out in the empty studio while I trained. But he didn’t taunt me or torment me, and—thank fucking God—he didn’t bring any other girls to the room. For the first week, I cracked the door carefully and peered inside before entering, heart thundering in my chest at what I dreaded I’d see.
But it was always the same thing.
Finn, sitting languidly up against the wall, elbows propped on his knees while he texted, watched videos on his phone, or scrolled through Instagram.
He watched me while I worked—I could feel his gaze on me like a heat ray—but we usually didn’t talk much, which was perfectly fine by me. I got more comfortable with him there, and by the end of the second week, I was able to mostly forget his presence, falling into the comfort of dancing again.
My strength and flexibility were improving steadily, and I was careful to walk the line between pushing hard and pushing too hard. The last thing I wanted was to re-injure myself, possibly permanently this time.
I’d finally caught up in my classes, and Leah and I had had several intense chemistry study sessions. Both times, we actually got a few hours of real studying in before the conversation drifted to which guys she thought were the hottest, and who she hoped would ask her out.
I listened, but didn’t have much to offer on those topics myself.
For one thing, no guys would be asking me out anytime soon—not unless they wanted to ruin whatever social standing they’d managed to build up in this school where image was everything.
And for another thing, I had no desire at all to talk about who I thought the hottest guys in school were. The answer to that question made my stomach flip-flop like a dying fish. I hated that I was dr
awn to the boys who’d single-handedly ruined my life, but the undeniable truth was that they were stunningly gorgeous. I shouldn’t feel guilty for recognizing that fact, but for some reason, I always did.
It felt like a betrayal of myself.
On my third Friday at Oak Park, Leah came over to study at seven. We ended up hanging out in the common room with Maggie after we finished, and Maggie pinned me down talking about some romance novel she was reading for a good thirty minutes after Leah flashed me an apologetic look and made her escape.
I really liked Maggie—and I wasn’t in a position to say no to any friends at this point—but the girl could talk my ear off when she got on a roll. I was usually pretty good at recognizing the warning signs and making an escape before she really got going, but I’d missed them this time.
By the time I finally made some lame excuse and escaped upstairs, it was almost midnight. I wasn’t sure what the other kids at Oak Park did for fun on the weekends, but I’d fallen into a habit of hiding away in my room, trying to build up my fortitude for the coming week.
I trudged upstairs to my dorm and opened the door, not even bothering to flip on the light. A yawn tugged at my lips as I shuffled into the living room, kicking off my shoes.
Then I stopped.
My living room had windows on two walls—one facing the stretch of campus alongside Hammond hall, with the main dormitories in the distance, and one facing the woods to the west, which were interrupted by the wall that surrounded the entire campus.
I crept slowly toward the windows, glad I hadn’t turned the light on. It made it easier for me to see out, and harder for anyone else to see in. And I swore I had seen—
Yep, there.
People dressed in dark clothes were crossing the stretch of lawn alongside Hammond. For a moment, I thought they might be coming for my dorm, and my heart thudded hard in my chest. I wasn’t sure quite what my wild imagination expected—an attack with pitchforks and torches?—but it didn’t matter in the end, because before they reached the Wastelands, the figures veered west, disappearing into the trees.
What the hell?
I stood silently by the window for a while, watching as several more people followed the same path. One or two turned their phone flashlights on briefly when they hit the trees, but most of them made their way in the dark. Obviously trying not to get caught.
My pulse sped up, and I chewed my lower lip anxiously.
