Page 22 of Soul of a Psycho

She stops and slowly turns towards me. “How do you know his name?”

I don’t like the suspicious tone in her voice, the insinuation in it, and I lie before I can stop myself.

“Lana said it… I think.”

She squints at me and plants a hand on her hip, as if she knows I’m full of crap. Which I am. I just don’t know why. There’s no strategic reason for me to act like I don’t know Cade. It’s not like I don’t want to be associated with him. I’m not that low. I just… I feel like… How am I supposed to say Iletthe satanist give me stitches?

“Where’d you get that jumper, then?”

“Lost and found.” I don’t miss a beat. “I had blood on my shirt. Dorothy gave it to me.”

The lie comes too easy. I’m an expert at them, considering everything out of my mouth to my father had to be. But I don’t particularly like lying. It’s a bad habit I picked up to protectmyself. And to sometimes elevate encounters… I don’t want to be this person, but I fear it might be too late.

“Huh,” Ruby huffs and begins to walk away.

Damn it.She knows I’m lying to her. Because I didn’t know why I was lying in the first place. I frown, realizing I’m not winning any roommate points here, and let her go.

Chapter Fifteen

Cade

And I regret it. I regret it with every fiber of my being. I had a nice plan of grabbing my sack of rolls that Ms. Lunds sets aside for me every day and spending my free period in the woods, but Bobby pulled my card, and here I am, stuck on the side of Wakeman while he eats my rolls.

“It’s just French,” he says between bites. “When am I ever going to need French, right? And aDis passing.”

“Tu n’en auras pas besoin quand je te tuerai pour avoir mangé tous mes petits pains,” I grumble.

His eyes bug out of his head. “Holy shit, dude. That was really good. What did you say?”

“Nothing,” I sigh and throw my head back against the stone building.

I’m behind on everything. I don’t like missing classes. That draws attention to myself, and has the potential to drop my GPA and let Arnold Calhoun get Valedictorian. Not to mention the crate isn’t going to fill itself. I haven’t skipped a night since… Well, since I started. Nothing has ever seemed more important. But now I have Sky Lyons dominating every single neural pathway in my skull, and my world feels off kilter.

It took me the better part of lunch to even decide to go get food. I didn’t think I would have the restraint to stay away fromher if I saw her, further causing me to deviate from my routine. But I couldn’t let her get under my skin. So I kept my head down and tapped on some of my discipline reserves. God knows that these last few years have been nothing but a test of restraint, and yet this girl comes out of nowhere, sinks her teeth into me, and suddenly I can’t rely on myself. It took everything I had not to pull my hood down and look for her in the food hall.

As if a gift from the gods, the bells overhead start to toll. Their sounds always remind me of a funeral—an omen to come—and a much needed peace falls over me. I kick my feet out to cross my ankles and enjoy their chime. I need to wait until Bobby leaves, anyway. I can’t start my trek to the shack just yet, otherwise he’ll ask me where I’m going and if he can come.

“Thanks for having lunch with me,” Bobby says.

I flick my eyes to him and groan, my peace vanishing. “You know, shit like that is the reason you don’t have friends.”

It’s a cruel truth, and it might suck to hear, but it’s real, and the reality is that he doesn’t suffer from the same affliction as me. He has a chance. He can make it out of this fishbowl unscathed.

He frowns, but doesn’t say anything. And that’s just as bad.

“You’re just going to let me talk to you like that? Why don’t you tell me to go fuck myself?”

He shakes his head. “Why would I do that? You’re my only friend.”

Jesus fucking christ. My bleeding heart flinches in my chest, and I have to close my eyes to block it out. “Bobby, we aren’t friends.”

“But we’re eating lunch together and—”

“Stop. Just stop.” I cut him off. I can’t be this kid’s friend. I’m not going to be around after graduation. He’ll still have two years after I’m gone, and while I’m resigned to bear the stains on mysoul from graduation, I don’t want him to live in the shadow of consequences that my actions will soon create.

“Listen to me and get it through your dense fucking head.” I stand up, suddenly unable to be soothed by the bells, and filling with anger. “We aren’t friends. We can never befriends,” I quickly start seething. “I don’t want any. And even if I did, you would be the last person I’d pick. So, get your shit together, stop being such a fucking pussy, and find someone else to annoy because I’m not it.” I take a breath. and then add a critical piece of advice, feeling generous despite my agitation. “And make sure whoever you find isn’t a senior.”

I don’t explain why, and he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t even wince at my words, and instead looks down at the half-eaten roll in his hands, picking off crumbs that litter his pants. What the fuck is wrong with this kid?

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