Page 35 of The Masks We Wear

Bulldog:Tomorrow, 3:20. There’s a small door next to the service elevator by the upstairs art room. Don’t be late.

A soft smile snakes across my face

Oh, I’ll be late, and he’ll wait.

I’ll make sure of that.

FIFTEEN

It’s 3:47.

Of course, she’s fucking late. I mean, why wouldn’t she be?

Annoyance licks my spine, making my nerves dance and my legs shake. I stroke a finger on the side of my phone, debating the best course of action.

There’s always the option to leave and just ask Remy to help, or I could text Lily and ask where the fuck she is.

It’s hard to admit—brutal if I’m being honest, but a piece of me didn’t want to ask Remy in the first place because I actuallywantedto work with Lily. I think some small, insane part thought that maybe I could get her alone and see what happened to my friend. My oncebestfriend.

Closure. It’s a hell of a thing. Without it, you keep it in on your back, letting it weigh you down, making moving on to new things near impossible. And I want to move on. So, I’ll wait. But only for three more minutes. After that, I’ll bow out and just ask Remy.

Leaning back, my eyes drift around the small room. I couldn’t have picked a better space. It used to be a room to keep irate students who needed to blow off some steam or as a holding cell until cops or parents showed up, but they haven’t needed it in years. What’s left is a six by six room, with one desk and two chairs. The walls were already white, so when I hooked up the LED rope lights, it lit the room with ease.

Today’s color is blue.

It’s meant to bring feelings of tranquility, peace, and productivity, but depending on the person’s state, it can also invoke sadness or loneliness.

I’m tempted to turn it on now, see if it actually calms me down, but I want to stay true to the experiment. An experiment that looks like it’s not even happening today.

3:50

Fuck her.

Giving up, I grab my backpack and swing it over my shoulder. But when I reach for the door handle, it turns, opening to Lily on the other side.

My heart jolts—fucking jolts, slamming into my chest. Her blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun, leaving her neck exposed, and my thoughts go the wrong damn way. Her black long sleeve dress has a little hole at the top, where a tiny button keeps everything together.

“Where are you going?” she bites. “I’m only a couple of minutes late.”

“Thirty minutes late, Lily. I have shit to do.” Rolling my eyes, I back up and let her walk in.

She sits down where I was, hanging her bag on the back of the chair, and props her elbows on the desk. “Okay, well, I also thought about locking you in here but decided to spare the custodian having to clean up the piss you’d leave in the corner.”

A metallic taste hits my tongue before I realize I’ve bitten through my cheek. “While I’m happy you decided against it, I have places to go, so—”

“Ugh, I’m kidding. I got held up. Since you didn’t see me today in class, that means I’m holding up my end of the deal. You need to do the same.”

Mr. Jones is a strange man, who always seems to have his head glued to his computer, not to mention he’s easy to get one over on, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t show. Lucky for her, when he takes attendance, he just asks if anyone is missing.

Lily tilts her head to the side, examining her nails like she always does when she won’t make eye contact with me.

“Fine.” I toss a piece of paper across the table and yank my chair out as far away from the desk as possible–which isn’t enough in this small ass room.

She peers down at the table over her hands but doesn’t move to touch it. Her eyes scan over the lines, and finally, she looks up. “A script? For what?”

It’s hard to stop my eyes from rolling or the irritation that flutters through me, making my hands twitch. Of course, she doesn’t know shit about the project. She’s never even asked.

“I’m going to start the timer, and we sit in silence for three minutes, then we read. That’s all you really need to know.”

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