Page 8 of Oliver

I’m surrounded by assholes and resigned to the fact that these people, if they're lucky, will never know the horrors that wait outside these walls. They’re still babbling about fucking prom. Prom!

Who cares about fucking prom? People are dead. My sister is dead.

This is why I march past the assholes who forced me out almost two years ago. Nothing they say or do compares to the gaping hole in my chest. Nothing.

Around the next corner, I see Diem and Maeve. Judging by her expression, they’re having a heated discussion. Not my business so I turn the other way.

Where the hell is Oren? I tried messaging the jerk, but he never responded. If he thinks I’m going to give up that easily, he’s lost his damn mind.

If I remember correctly, I have ten minutes before the first bell rings, and with a sigh, I pass down the next hall searching the masses.

Oren stopped by the house the night before Dixie died. They were close. I’m hoping she shared something with him that he will pass along to me. Although it’s possible no one knew about Dixie’s extracurricular activities.

I’m blindsided when I walk down an intersecting hall and pass Mr. Goodlow, standing before his desk at the front of the room.

Pausing, I stare at his bowed head, a trickle of awareness sliding down my spine. As if he can sense my stare, he looks up and our eyes lock.

There’s nothing remarkable about him beyond his resemblance to Oliver. He doesn’t have Oliver’s magnetism, that something which draws you to him unless you count his position of authority.

For me, he still pales in comparison and it’s not just Oliver’s good looks that I’m referring to, although he is fucking hot. When Oliver focuses on you, really focuses, there’s an intensity that creates all kinds of havoc in your system.

I should know, I fell for the damn trap once and regretted it ever since.

Pushing away my nonsensical thoughts, I stand frozen while Kenny searches my gaze. When his brow furrows, I wonder what he’s thinking. Was he surprised to find me at Maeve’s house not too long ago? Afraid?

“What brings you here?”

My skin itches and my soul burns as I grab the door frame to hold myself upright. This fucker ruined my world and he’s standing before me with a casual smile and his hands in his damn pockets.

“Dixie…” I rasp before clearing my throat.

“Dixie,” he says, and I raise my chin and widen my eyes hoping to portray an innocence long since dead while he studies me with an inscrutable expression.

Unfortunately, nothing screams I’m-a-psycho-killer, but I’d be stupid to assume he’d announce it. Is he sweating a little bit, wondering if I know something about his sordid affair? He doesn’t appear to be but I fucking hope so.

“I’m so sorry about her death. Good student. Very smart,” he says, pulling up a disarming smile.

How can he be so calm? Unfettered, when he knows what he’s done?

It wasn’t my plan to confront him but now that I’m here, I can’t resist because the words tremble on my tongue.

After glancing behind me, I step farther into the room and ball my hands into fists. His calm demeanor only ratchets my rage and it’s taking everything in me not to scream and rail at him.

Instead, I say quietly, “You can tell me the truth.”

“Come again?”

Gritting my teeth, I open my mouth and this time I suspect I am going to let loose, except I’m forestalled when a student appears behind me.

Her eyes meet mine and they widen before a flush suffuses her cheeks. When I glance back at Mr. G, I find a forbidding frown on his face.

Please tell me the fucker isn’t grooming another girlfriend from the student body. Does he have no shame?

Although he doesn’t spare me a glance, I know to my bones that he’s annoyed by my presence when he says, “Katie? How can I help you?”

She shuffles on her feet before darting a quick glance in my direction. The sick twisted part of my brain that I can’t turn off is enraged that he could move on so quickly while disgust roils in my belly.

Dixie is irreplaceable even if the skeevy fucker should never have touched her in the first place.

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