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“No,” I answer honestly. I’d been studying fascism the week before, jotting down notes and relating to it more than anything else in my damned political textbooks. Finlay had helped me craft a presentation on prejudice, so what had poured out my mouth as I stood in front of the class had been nothing more than the truth.
My truth.
Arabella looks at me jealously. “You shouldn’t lie, Jessa. We all know how that turned out for you.”
But despite her threat, I’m smiling. I got an A in politics.
I got anA!
* * *
If there’s anything I’ve learned from my time at Lochkelvin, it’s that my happiness is fleeting and that other people are in charge of it.
I stare at Danny as he lies motionless in bed, the scars on his face the same as mine.
“Why?” It’s the only question I can think of, and even that seems far toosmallfor the tragic sight in front of my eyes. Tears prickle the longer I gaze at Danny. It’s sounfair. “Why would she do this to you?”
He tilts his bandaged head in my direction, groaning even at this tiny movement. “Why do you think? She wants to get back atyou.” He sighs heavily. “It’s in all the comic books. The lovable sidekick gets taken away and tortured as payback, as revenge against the main character’s misdeeds.” Danny adds, as if to make it more obvious, “You’rethe main character.”
I want to laugh. As if I’m the main character in anything. Maybe some tragic memoir, at a push.
I stay by Danny’s side all afternoon, doing my homework as I watch him drift asleep into a better world.
“For fuck’s sake.” I glance up, startled to see Finlay swerving into the medical wing. He comes to an abrupt halt in front of Danny’s bed. “Whit the hell’s this?”
“Hi,” I say, baffled by his existence.
“Great presentation, by the way. Very heartfelt. Blisterin’, ye could say.”
“Thanks.” I try to ignore the butterflies tickling my stomach.
Finlay stares down at Danny with a frown. “Li was braggin’ about her work earlier. I had tae check tae make sure she wasnae talkin’ crap.” There’s so much strength and conviction in his Scottish accent that I’m thankful I’m sitting down. Right now, he’s a force to be reckoned with, a full-on warrior. He turns to me, green eyes flashing. “That lassie’s on a mission tae destroy you.” There’s a twist to his lips when he adds, “Maybe life would have been easier if ye’d just telt the truth, sassenach.”
“I told the truth when it mattered,” I point out meaningfully. I stare at Finlay until he realizes I’m talking about the visions I’d shared with him in that empty classroom. When he’d held me as I spoke, when his arms wrapped around me tightly.
“I’d hoped ye were makin’ it up…”
I glare at him. “Why would I make up something like that?”
“I didnaewantye tae have seen that,” he explains hastily. “So I hoped it was false.”
“It wasn’t.”
But maybe it’s a miracle that Finlay believes me, anyway. The line between saint and sinner is vanishing, and maybe I’ve crossed it already with the number of lies I’ve told.
I’m the girl who cried wolf and now no one will believe me.
“You didn’t tell anyone about what I saw.”
“No.” He’s so intense about this that my nerves begin to thrum.
Finlay grabs a chair and sits in front of me, his green gaze piercing me. He sits on it backward, his arms surrounding the headrest. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, his skin vibrant with ink.
The sight alone is enough to make my heart stutter.
I shoot a worried glance at the door. “Don’t you care if someone comes in and sees us together?”
His green eyes are bright as they rest on me. “How come? I dae what I want in this school. Always have.” He pauses and then adds in a softer voice, “And if I want tae talk tae the smart American girl who refuses tae leave my mind, then I’ll dae exactly that.”
