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I nod weakly and continue up the stairs. By the time I reach my room, my legs feel like they're about to give out and my heart is pounding in my chest. The weight in my stomach has combusted into a fiery ball. The weight of it is nearly too much to bear.
When I locate room eleven, I scan my phone over the electronic lock and enter Slumping back against the door, I squeeze my eyes shut. I bite back the lump in my throat, urging me to scream--or maybe cry.
This entire day unravels around me in a whirl ... The sentencing in court. Being forced to pack and leave everyone behind. Only to arrive here. A place so foreign, I may as well be in a different country.
It's not that I'd prefer juvie, but it's familiar. I know how to get by. Here, nothing's real. No one is who they truly are. Not the girl who tries too hard to be perfect. Or the one who acts like nothing bothers her. Forget about the Queen of lies who oversees us all. This is not where I belong.
I chose to remain silent to protect my friends. But it was a choice I should never have been forced to make. This is not what I wanted. I'm not supposed to be here. And the only reason I am is because Vic is still out there.
I clench my jaw so tight, my teeth feel like they might crack.
Just thinking about Vic intensifies the inferno in my gut. I inhale deeply, trying to squelch the flames. He'd better hope I never see him again. I breathe in a calming breath and blow him away, then slowly open my eyes.
The room's ... white. And I mean, everything's white--the walls; the pedestal sink and the ornate oval mirror hung above it; the counter and cabinets next to it; the fur covered beanbag on the plush throw rug; the long, narrow desk next to the bookcase; the chiffon scarf draped along the top of the windows; and the ruched duvet covering the full-sized bed in the corner. It's all pure white. Except ...
I walk over to the bed and shove my bags aside. Sitting on a pillow is a zebra. An adorable stuffed zebra with huge sparkly, blue eyes. I find a note tied to its neck when I lift it from the pillow.
"Please forgive me."
That's it. Just three words. But I guess that's all he needed to write. When did this get here? With Niall? And why does Joey care if I forgive him? I'm not planning on seeing him again.
I toss the animal in the trash beneath the desk. Yes, the trashcan's white too. Unbelievable.
I flop down on the bed among the sea of throw pillows and stare at the ceiling. Rolling on my side, I can't avoid the huge blue eyes peering up at me from within the trashcan. I groan and shift my gaze to the bookshelf instead. A square glass vase of fresh cut white roses sits next to framed pictures. I sit up so I can get a better look. One of the pictures is of me and my mom. She's resting her head on my shoulder while sitting on a blanket at the park she loves down the street from our house. And there's another of me with Tori and Nina, laughing hysterically so our eyes are squeezed shut and our mouths open wide. I've never seen these pictures in print before.
The more I look, the more details I notice.
I push off the bed and examine every surface. Little touches of personalization are everywhere. Tucked in the corner under the desk is a fridge. I open it to discover it's filled with bottled waters and blue raspberry Mt. Dew, which is my favorite. On the desk, next to the white lamp with the feather shade is a small, square framed picture of me and my grandmother when I was little. I'm sitting on her lap while she's reading me a story. She used to read to me a lot--mostly fairytales. The real, gruesome ones. Not the Disney versions.
But I've never seen this picture before. Ever.
Inside the desk drawer are all of my favorite snacks--gummy bears, Twizzlers, Lindt chocolates, and popcorn chips. Someone went to a lot of trouble to personalize this room. To make it feel welcoming, although it's not exactly my style. I know there's no way Niall decorated it himself. And it wasn't the guys or my mother. But someone did. And whoever it is found out a lot about me.
Glassy, heart-crushing eyes peer up at me from within the canister.
"Fine," I huff, picking the zebra up. Before I place him back on the bed, I untie the ribbon and drop the note back in the trash. "I don't forgive you."
I heft my bags onto the bed and unpack. In the far corner, near the door, is a Narnia-sized armoire. I can barely reach the empty hangers lining a wooden bar. There are already a few items suspended from it, wrapped in white plastic. Must be the uniform I'm expected to wear during the regular school year.
I look up at the shelves at the top. I'm never going to be able to reach them. So I stuff everything I can in the drawers stacked in the bottom half.
When I'm done, I roll up the duffle bags and toss them on the top shelves of the armoire, since I can't use them for anything else. I'm jumping in the air, trying to shove the last one in, when someone knocks on the door. The bag falls on my head. I growl in frustration as the knocker persists. Simultaneously tossing the bag on the shelf and shutting the closet doors, I hope it doesn't fall back on me again when I open them back up. They knock again. Seriously?
Yanking the door, I snap, "What?" Still irritated by, well ... everything.
No one's there.
I step into the hall and look right. About a dozen rooms line this side, all with their doors closed. I turn around. The hall extends past the common room and grand stairs, to the end of the building. But I don't see anyone, although the lighting is pretty sketchy and every shadow could easily be a person hidden within a doorway or alcove. Remaining perfectly still, I listen. Not a single sound. The silence makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.
I wouldn't be surprised if someone were locked away in a tower. Or a dungeon. If I hear screaming at night, I'll know why.
A beep screeches from within my room. I spin, clutching my chest.
When I walk in, I notice the phone screen is flashing red. That can't be good.
"
Shit." I rush to pick it up.
