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22
Another few days pass where we hear nothing. We go to class, train in the gym and avoid any further confrontation with Bram and his goons. It isn’t easy remaining level-headed and calm. I still get moments where I oscillate between worrying over Pink and Camden’s mum and needing to beat the shit out of Bram or anyone who looks at me wrong, frankly.
Today’s no different.
It’s Wednesday morning and I’m sitting in Art class trying to concentrate on my project when Mr Burnside walks into the room. I’ve barely spoken to him these past couple of weeks, attending my therapy sessions but not really partaking. What’s the point? There are bigger things going on in my life than how my mother’s death has affected me. I’m done talking about her. I’m done with trying to analyse why I’m feeling the way I am.
It’s fucking obvious. Mr Burnside knows about everything that’s going on, with my faith in the ‘adults’ sorting out this mess waning.
Nothing is getting done.
We know where they are. Grim has at least kept her side of the bargain and has sent some dude named Malakai to scope out the King’s hideaway, and whilst neither Pink nor Camden’s mum have been spotted, the King has, and we all know where he is, so are they.
I’m itching to just break out of Oceanside and go there myself, but I promised Louisa and the Freed bothers that I would let them handle this. Besides, getting out of this prison isn’t something we’ll be able to do successfully, given the place is rigged to the hilt. I’m positive that’s why we’ve not had any more trouble from Bram and his crew. Well, that and the fact I beat the shit out of him, even if it was in a controlled environment.
I miss the days of sneaking out to the Tower to settle scores the street way. I would’ve loved to break his fucking nose.
“What does he want?” Camden asks under his breath as we both watch Mr Burnside talking quietly with our art teacher. He keeps flicking his gaze over to us.
“No idea,” I shrug, feigning nonchalance when I feel anything but.
“Looks like we’re about to find out,” Sonny remarks, throwing his pencil on the table and giving up trying to work as Miss Moore strides towards us. All of us are losing the will to do anything, even the things we love. It’s hard to carry on as usual when there’s a goddamn guillotine hanging over our heads. The fucking King is ruling us, no matter what we try to do.
“You three, Mr Burnside would like to speak with you. Pack up your stuff and head out. I’ll see you next lesson,” Miss Moore says, a smile covering the annoyance in her eyes.
“Why?” Camden asks, looking between her and Mr Burnside who is waiting by the door. The rest of the class is watching closely. Dagger, seems very interested all of a sudden.
“Something about an impromptu group therapy session that can’t wait, apparently,” Miss Moore explains, her smile dropping. “Why Mr Burnside feels the need to interrupt my class and your learning is beyond me,” she adds under her breath.
“Fucking perfect. Just what we need, more goddamn therapy,” I say loudly, making sure Dagger can hear, because I can tell by Mr Burnside’s face that this has nothing to do with therapy and more to do with our predicament. They must have more news.
Grabbing our stuff we head out of the classroom and follow Mr Burnside.
“Wanna tell us what this is about, Doc?” Sonny asks, as he flashes a concerned look at me.
“As soon as we get to somewhere more private, yes,” Mr Burnside responds, shutting down any further discussion.
Instead of taking us to his office, Mr Burnside leads us outside and across the sports field towards the outhouse that Ford, Sonny and I trained in last term. When he pushes open the door, Eastern and Ford are waiting inside with Mr Carmichael and Cal.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Camden asks, cutting the tension with a knife.
Ford and Eastern look troubled. Eastern moves towards me, taking my hand in his and squeezing it gently. I know that look he gives me. I’ve seen it before. Something’s wrong, something’s really, really wrong.
“Eastern?” I question.
Mr Burnside shuts the door behind us and walks over to Mr Carmichael, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the arm and a gentle kiss on the lips. I’ve never seen them be affectionate towards each other in public before and it makes me nervous. What the fuck is Mr Carmichael going to say?
“Well?” Camden presses. He’s strung tight, so tight that the muscles in his jaw are bouncing with agitation.
“Half an hour ago, Cal received a call from Hudson. We’ve got some bad news…” his voice trails off as my heart thunders inside my chest. But when Mr Carmichael looks directly at Camden with a sadness that’s unbearable, my heart turns to stone.
Please no, not his mum.
“What bad news?” Camden bites out, his voice laced with danger.
Eastern grips my hand tighter.
“I’m sorry, Camden. I’m really, really sorry.”
