Page 16 of Reign

Callie

I join the swell of students heading to class, having no choice but to merge into the mass and become as inconspicuous as possible.

Anonymity turns out to be insanely difficult when all I can hear is talk of the email last night and the big reveal of secret societies on campus.

This psycho says Ivy’s dead, someone whispers.

If dead is going home and avoiding finals, then I guess she’s gone to fucking heaven, another says and laughs.

Do you think it’s true?

Nobles and Virtues? What the hell? Why wasn’t I chosen?

Piper and Addy’s mom? Are you serious? The asshole who wrote this ruined my MILF moment. I don’t want to have my cock slit while I bang her.

Fake news. Total bullshit.

No proof.

Gossip Girl wannabe.

Russian hacker for sure.

As we progress down the hallway and my exposé turns into fodder, my heart sinks to the deepest chamber in my chest. I was so convinced that all Briarcliff Academy needed was a rumor. It’s fueled so much before—Piper’s death, Addisyn’s arrest, Rose Briar’s mysterious disappearance…

Why shouldn’t more uncertainty taint student thoughts and cause faculty to second-guess their career choice?

They should be rewinding their memories, where sudden inconsistencies become obvious, now that I’ve given them context. Like the academy’s hidden rooms and hallways and the random disappearances of their roommate at night. The sudden propulsion of their average-grade friend being awarded all A’s in every single exam. The pairing of two people who are complete opposites, yet now call themselves soulmates.

Something.

… yet, nothing comes out of these mouths except ridicule.

Don’t they know what they’re treading over every day at this school? Can’t they feel the ghosts they pass or notice the dried blood under their feet when they go to the library to study?

I clamp down on the banshee that wants to wail its way out of my throat and into these ignorant, stupidly neglectful ears.

It’s clear words and accusations will never convince these people.

I need the blood on my hands.

My tongue feels like a swollen lump in my mouth, a useless muscle mass that’s done nothing to help. I’m at a loss on what to do, other than retrace my steps last night so I can personally witness what they’ve done to clean up the library and temple.

My best friend. My lost friend.

Tears well, but I sniff hard and order my eyes to stop getting so hot. As soon as I’m able, I’ll find Chase. As soon as I can talk to someone who saw what I did, things will be better.

I step into calculus in an anonymous wave of movement, taking my seat silently, yet staring hard at the vacant chair across from mine. My eyes don’t leave Ivy’s permanently empty seat until that special part of me that seems to conjure him when I need him the most flickers to life.

On a hitch of breath, I look up.

Chase meets my eyes and holds on, giving a single, imperceptible nod before he takes his seat.

Professor Dawson passes out the exams and calls for us to begin, but all I see are Ivy’s last words. All I hear are her wet gasps for breath as blood fills her lungs.

And the only picture on the backs of my eyelids is of my mother, interposed over Ivy in the same, helpless, dying state.

“Time!” Dawson announces. “Pencils down.”

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