Page 91 of Vicious Saint
It’s been over two weeks since Saint barged into Lance’s suite like an animal and nearly killed him in front of me.
Now nobody has seen the psycho since.
In fact, Vic barely talks about him.
At least when I’m around.
I’ve had my theories…mostly including padded rooms and nasty blood suckers…but every time I try to pry an ounce of information out of Theory, she shuts me down or lies and tells me he’s off visiting family.
I should be relieved, content with the peace and the drama free parties, but I can’t help this nagging feeling that wants to know where he’s been.
If the guy’s still alive or evenhuman.
If it’s true there’s a version of Saint that he, and the kids at school, actually believe exists inside of him like an evil entity.
Sounds crazy, I know. But I’ve seen Saint shift enough times to at least consider the possibility heisthat mad.
And I saw enough of “Vicious” the night of our parents’ wedding to know if he does exist in Saint’s mind, then he must’ve been somewhere with us in the closet during orientation.
Chills wreak havoc along my body just thinking about it.
“And I meant that promise. But things happen. Plans change.”
Plopping down next to her, I let out a disgruntled, “Oh, trust me. I’m well aware.”
“Hendrix…” Mom sighs. “Will there ever be a day you forgive me?”
My shoulders sag as I lean my head on her shoulder. “Mom, c’mon. There’s nothing to be forgiven. I just…I can’t. I need more time, okay? But I promise I’m happy you’re happy.”
“Okay, baby. But I’m hoping one day you will be too.”
“Oh, I will.” I chuckle, straightening back up. “Because I already have a solution.”
“A solution?”
“Asoluzione.”
“Look at you!” She playfully punches my arm. “Speaking the way of your ancestors.”
“Halfmy ancestors.”
She snickers. “Yeah, well, I doubt Riverside will be offering Gaelic.”
“No. Just smoke inhalation.”
We share a laugh, but it dies miserably when Mom’s sip of espresso turns into a shot. “So, tell me about this solution.”
“I’ll stay at a hotel for the next week. Or until whenever they clear us to return.”
“Like hell you will,” she blurts, shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Seriously? I’ve been living on my own for months now.”
“At a school, Hendrix. Not a hotel with no supervision.”
“I’ll have Archer stay with me,” I argue, smiling at Darla as she places Mom’s bacon and eggs in front of her.
“Like I said…” Mom deadpans. “No supervision.”
