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I want to see if Ashton’s sister will show up with news about his brother. See Emrys’ and Jason’s families. To make sure that Sindri doesn’t do anything stupid after his desk somehow put me in charge of looking out for him.
If only I knew how.
And yes, I’m mostly concerned about them, and yes, I’d love to see them run into the arms of loving parents like the other students… when I should be confronting them about the articles, about the accusations. Facing what might be a gruesome truth.
When Ophelia might be the one doing the right thing, robbing them of their magic, their strength.Oh God…I don’t know what to think.
Time passes—more squealing, more happy families.
It’s boring. Annoying. But mostly it’s painful. Who needs a reminder that they don’t have a family to go back to, let alone visit them? I mean, by now, Father and Mother must know where I am. Ophelia must have told them.
Right?
And it’s not like I want to confront them—and yet of course I do. They could try and haul me back to the Church. But also I could press them to tell me who I really am.
Oh God. Why torture myself with this? Of course they won’t come. As if Ophelia would call them to remind them of family visit day.
Ludicrous.
But the boys don’t seem to be getting a visit, either. The sky has begun to darken, and they are still standing there, in various positions radiating indolence and boredom: Ashton lounging against a wall, arms folded over his chest, Jason chewing on a stalk of grass, tapping his foot to a rhythm only he can hear, Emrys sitting on a bench, legs stretched out, one arm on the backrest—and Sindri actually sitting on said backrest, one of his favorite places to sit as it turns out, flipping a coin over his knuckles.
They are the very picture of insouciance and arrogance.
You have to know them to see the cracks, the way Ashton’s eyes keep sliding toward the gathering of families at the center of the yard, Jason’s nervousness, Emrys’ white-knuckled grip on the backrest of the bench, Sindri’s fake grin.
Damn. Nobody came for them. And though I’ve figured out by now that their families are the real assholes in this story, it still makes me sad for them. You don’t choose your family.
And here I am, feeling sorry for guys who might or might not be monsters. This can’t go on. I have to get to the bottom of it. It’s driving me insane.
I wish I could go to them. To tell the truth, Ash and Sin did approach me earlier, but I made up a bathroom trip excuse and fled, only to hide from them ever since. Hide and watch.
Just like I accused Vanessa of doing.
Crap.
I see Brianna standing with a group of Zoey’s girls and on impulse, I walk over to her. What will the bitches do, call me names?Pft. They won’t dare attack me physically with so many people about.
“Hey.” I slip into a gap between her and a redhead and bump her with my hip. “Seen your family?”
“Oh, sure. They brought me clothes from a new designer my mom likes. Again. I told them a thousand times I don’t like that crap. We just don’t have the same taste. And my sister, the little shit, she wanted me to tell her a billion stories from my life here. As if I don’t spend my entirelifeon the phone every Sunday talking to her.”
I blink at her, then blink again when the girl on my other side shoves me. I ignore her. “Aren’t you glad you saw them?”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. They always come, every month. Can’t skip it even once.”
“Others would kill to have their parents visit,” I whisper.
“I know, all right?” She follows my gaze that has unerringly returned to the boys. Funny how they’ve banded together despite everything today. As if it’s a ritual they go through every time, perhaps every month, to get through the experience. “But trust me, some are more scared that their families will come than the other way round.”
A chill goes through me. “You can be both,” I whisper. “Both afraid of them and afraid that they don’t give a damn.”
“Speaking from experience?”
I shrug. Being afraid to see my adoptive parents has more to do with getting dragged back home, but I don’t say that. The girl next to me shoves me again—and I shove right back.
“Lily, leave off, will you?” Brianna snaps and the girl glares at both of us.
“Are you her friend now?” she mutters. “Shall I tell Zoey?”
