Page 60 of Theirs to Ruin

Camille

After I’d buried the dead rat in the little grassy knoll outside my dorm, I’d climbed back into bed soaking wet. Shivering, I hadn’t been able to sleep until two in the morning, and didn’t wake again until after noon the next day.

I knew the exact moment when students started leaving for Ava’s funeral because I heard groups of people gathering in the halls then walking away together. Their words were muffled but I imagined their confusion and grief, as well as their disdain for me.

When it was one p.m., the time Ava’s funeral started, I took a deep breath, said a silent prayer for Kage’s sister and my former friend, then flipped on the TV and crawled into bed again. The only time I moved was when I got up for water or a granola bar. At some point, I heard people coming back in groups again, then the muted sounds of music and laughter as people passed through the hall. It was after midnight by the time I fell into another restless sleep.

The next morning, I woke early. I told myself I’d be perfectly within my rights to stay in again, but I felt gross. I needed ashower and I needed fresh air. Most importantly, I still had to live my life, which meant getting back on track, making Tier Two and proving to my dad he’d done the right thing by letting me continue here.

Once I was dressed, I headed out. I was bleary-eyed and borderline catatonic. I was also paranoid, sure anyone who got near me was a potential enemy.

I wasn’t too far off the mark.

My father had been right—there were plenty of people who believed I’d had something to do with Ava’s death. Before I’d been a nobody, a wallflower, someone bullied pretty much only by Ava. Now, I was a prime target. Initially, it was only whispers and looks. Occasionally it was someone saying something outright. Then it escalated.

First, Mark Jefferson, who came from a family notorious for rigging casino games, "accidentally" spilled a cup of water over my head during chemistry. He’d smiled nastily and said, "Oops! Hope you can swim better than Ava could.”

After that, Jenji stuck a foot out and tripped me as I left the Student Union. I had fallen to my knees, spilling my pumpkin spiced latte all over my favorite Calvin Klein shirt. Jenji and her friends had laughed, then literally stepped over me as they walked away.

Later, between Poly Sci and Literature 201, I opened my locker and was greeted by a wave of soot and ash. I’d coughed and sputtered, breathing in the blackened remnants of my textbooks that lay scattered among the debris. Two lockers over, Olivia Thompson, whose family had ties to arson cases spanning three decades, smiled sweetly and waved at me.

None of the harassment happened in Bianca’s presence, and I wasn’t going to tell her. I also didn’t tell her about the rat. I didn’t want to drag her into my drama.

Between my classes, I kept watch for another sighting of Ty but so far it hadn’t happened. Simone had texted me earlier asking to have lunch with me. She’d visited me at the hospital before I’d been released, and she’d been steadfast in her friendship. I planned to ask her if she knew anything about CU’s mysterious new student.

By the time I slipped into my seat in the lecture hall for my Women’s History class, I was exhausted from trying to ignore every glance and whisper. Since I no longer had my textbook, I pulled out my phone and downloaded the e-book, then glanced to the front. On the chalkboard was a skilled portrait of Marie Antoinette, her soft curls cascading around her face, her eyes holding an almost dreamy expression.

Professor Halliday, a woman in her early sixties with a passion for debunking historical myths, began the class by addressing the misconceptions surrounding the French queen. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s dive into the true history of Marie Antoinette. Forget the cake; let’s talk about the girl.”

Halliday discussed the intricacies of the French Revolution, highlighting the societal and political factors that placed the young queen in such a perilous position. She was not the aloof, uncaring figurehead many believed her to be, but a scared young girl trying her best in a world that seemed determined to see her fail.

“The narratives we’ve been fed about Marie Antoinette,” Professor Halliday said with a pointed look, “often strip her of her humanity, reducing her to a caricature of excess and ignorance. But she was just a girl caught up in events much larger than herself.”

Her words struck a chord with me. Here was a girl who had been vilified for centuries, her story twisted and manipulated by those in power. And yet in many ways, she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Like me.

Like Ava.

I suddenly remembered the flash of guilt and longing in Ava’s eyes before she’d left for the lake party. She’d told me I couldn’t trust anyone, and by doing so, I now wondered if she was giving me a clue. Did she feel I’d betrayed her somehow? I should have dug harder for answers about why she’d turned on me. Now I would never know.

After class, it was time for lunch. I headed to the Mexican place on campus where I’d agreed to meet Simone. I again caught people’s eyes on me. This time, some were filled with compassion or downright pity, and seeing that bugged me just as much as the cold, suspicious glares. I kept my head down, focusing on the path before me, allowing my hair to cascade forward, shielding me like a curtain from their prying eyes.

The moment I stepped onto the restaurant’s patio, I wish I’d picked someplace else to meet Simone. Seated at an outside table were Ava’s friends, Jenji, Sasha and Crystal, along with Sasha and Crystal’s boyfriends, Lucas and Kellan. They all glared at me. I walked past them, only for Crystal to call out in a snarky tone, “Going for a swim later, Camille? We better sound off the alarm. Give everyone warning.”

Before I knew it, someone was hovering over me. Lucas leaned in so close I could feel his warm breath on my ear. "You’d better watch out, bitch. We know you killed her.”

Suddenly, a powerful figure shielded me from Lucas. Dante towered over the younger guy, his strong, muscular shoulders threatening to break apart the simple charcoal grey cashmere sweater he was wearing. Dante murmured something too low for me to hear. Lucas paled, his bravado deflating like a popped balloon. Without a word, he rejoined the others at the table.

Shaking, I turned and ran, not stopping until I reached the Chem building. I was alone—at least, IthoughtI was alone, until I turned around to find Dante watching me.

"You can't keep helping me,” I said. “I can handle things myself."

“I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to."

"Why do you care so much?”

"You know why."

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