Page 24 of The Venom We Bleed

“Her pity is none of my business and I don’t need it.”

“Aren’t you curious, though?” Roquel presses. “I mean why would anyone in this school feel bad for you after everything that’s happened?”

She’s right. It doesn’t make sense, but I guess even rotten trees can produce a few good apples. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Is there a point to you annoying the shit out of me or are you just here for shits and giggles?” I demand.

Roquel’s laugh is like wind chimes, light and pleasant. “Just curious how your semester is going,” she replies casually.

“Like shit,” I admit. There’s no point in lying.

“Oh? Just school or is there more?” She leans forward, her eyes alight with interest and I know I shouldn’t confide in her. I shouldn’t trust anyone in this school.

I bite my lip and open my eyes as more students filter into the classroom. “I can’t find a job,” I mutter.

The money I’d gotten from selling my BMW isn’t going to last me forever. I’ve got a roof over my head for the next six months, but what about utilities? Groceries? The weight of reality is settling heavy on my shoulders. This is what it means to be on my own, to have no one to rely on but myself.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been looking,” Roquel comments. “I’m not surprised you haven’t found anything in Silverwood.”

Even though her words annoy me, I can’t deny that they’re true. “What have you heard?” I ask, already hating that I can’t help myself.

Roquel winces. “Dollar Mart turned you down?” The answer sounds more like a question coming from her.

“I didn’t even turn in the application,” I admit. “I knew what the answer would be.”

She nods. “Have you thought about asking any of your old friends if their parents would let you take a part-time job? North side has better places than?—”

“No.” I shake my head, cutting her off. I’m desperate but not that desperate. Not yet. The longer I stay away from the north side of Silverwood, the more it feels like my old life was all just a dream. A beautiful lie.

South side is real. No one smiles at your face and pretends to like you when really they’re just waiting to stab you in the back. No. At least here at Silverwood Public, they’ll stab me in the face.

I can practically see my futile attempts to get a job to last me through senior year crash and burn. No one is coming to save me from being homeless in a few months if I can’t make it work. For a brief moment, I think of my dad’s best friend, Morpheus Calloway.

You can always come to me, Juliet. Whatever you need. You know that I think of you as my own.

Guilt eats away at my heart. He’d been so well-meaning, but I’d inevitably left him behind too. I’m not his daughter. I’m not his problem. How long would it have been before he, too, urged me to find my own place? To get out? If the last three months had taught me anything it’s that it’s better to leave someone before they can leave you.

I slump against my desk. Well, the businesses of Silverwood beat me to that punch. I’d bet all the money left in my savings account that the owners and managers where I’ve put in applications have collectively decided not to have anything to do with me.

Likely watching the play of emotions across my face, Roquel leans towards me once more. “If you still need a job, you’re gonna have to look out of town,” she advises.

“Yeah.” I know that, but with no car, getting to and from work is going to be a pain in my ass. The idea of spending hours at a time riding to and from different towns that surround Silverwood in public transport makes me nauseous. How much time will I actually have to work if I spend half of the day just trying to get somewhere?

Roquel’s attention doesn’t leave my face, not even when the teacher closes the door and announces the start of class. I try to ignore her and dip my head as we pull out our textbooks and open it to the first choice of literature.Hamlet. The irony of the story of betrayal and revenge is not lost on me.

The hour passes in droning boredom as the teacher passes on the duty of reading aloud from student to student—thankfully bypassing me. When the bell rings to announce the end of the period and the start of lunch, I slam my book closed and stuff it back into my bag before grabbing it and heading for the exit. Roquel’s shorter form trails behind me in silence.

I get halfway to the cafeteria when I decide against it and turn in the opposite direction. “Where are you going?” Roquel calls after me.

“Library,” I say.

“I’ll join you!” The sound of her footsteps squeak on the linoleum floor behind me.

I stop and turn back. “Why?”

She halts in front of me, the low-cut flowing black top she’s wearing gaping open just enough that I can see the black lace bra she’s got on underneath. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why are you coming with me?” I demand, my brows lowering. “We’re not friends.”

Roquel tilts her head to the side, the choppy strands of her hair fluttering above her shoulders as she does. “Maybe I want to offer my assistance.”

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