Page 12 of Soul So Dark
She jerks her head up. “Why not?”
I lean down until my forehead is only inches from hers. “Because nobody who gets through Sen’s Fortress in 10 minutes and survives the boss does it by being nice.”
This time, when I lock eyes with her, she doesn’t look away. Instead, the corners of her mouth stretch into the widest grin I’ve ever seen, revealing two rows of bright white teeth. Her cheeks are back to their normal hue and her eyes practically glow blue after being washed in tears.
I grab a lock of her onyx hair between two fingers and toss it across her neck. “Better get to class, Dallas.”
Straightening up, I turn on my heel and head back to English, wondering if anyone will have died of boredom by the time I arrive.Fucking Shakespeare…
I’ve been in and out of her house over the course of seven years, but I only had to spend 15 minutes with Dallas Lutz in an empty stairwell to know that she isn’t mean. She couldn’t be a prick if she tried. She just wants to be left alone and safe with the things that make her happy. I know that feeling more than anyone.
I also know how it feels to go back to school after a piece of your heart dies and have people ask questions you’re not prepared to answer. I can be a prick like Colson, but Dallas can’t. She still has something bright behind her eyes. Her light hasn’t gone out yet despite the horror and utter injustice of losing Evie.
I can’t let her lose who she was before Evie died. I won’t. Which is why now it’s myjob to put that bitch, Jamie Gallt, in her place along with anyone else who makes her feel otherwise.
CHAPTER SIX
Dallas
SHELBY (12:52PM): Where were you at lunch?? I thought you said you were back??
ME (12:58PM): I needed a break. Too many people all at once.
It’s not a lie. There’s no way I was going back into that cafeteria after what happened. I couldn’t even keep it together enough to get food in the lunch line. I miss my friends, but what will they say when I finally face them? I need to quit being such a wimp.
SHELBY (1:04PM): I was worried I thought something happened to you
ME (1:05PM): Like what?
There’s a long pause and a few minutes pass before Shelby responds.
SHELBY (1:10PM): Have you heard anything from the police yet?
I can read between the lines. She thought I was next—hunted down and murdered, just like Evie. And why shouldn’t she? No one’s heard from the police. No one knows who did this to Evie or why. And because of that, I just have to put my phone down.
Scott and my mom speak in hushed tones to one another, sometimes on their phones and other times to Colson. I kind of wish Colson would start going out more like he used to. I’m not used to him being here all the time. He skulks around the house, stopping in my doorway and lingering for an awkward amount of time, staring off into space and then making small talk like he wants to hang out but doesn’t know what to say.
At least my TV isn’t cracked anymore. I came home from school today and there was a new TV mounted on my wall. My doorknob and lock were replaced immediately, the day after Scott kicked it in, but until now the TV’s still been a smashed sheet of black glass on the wall. That’s also about the time I realize my headphones are missing. I can’t remember if they were in my backpack or if I was wearing them when I came home.
I let out a groan, heading downstairs. They probably fell out in Colson’s car. On my way past the kitchen, I stop to ask my mom where the new TV came from.
“Scott went out and got it today,” she replies softly, like she doesn’t want anyone to hear.
I glance over my shoulder, spying Scott unplugging his phone from the port on the table lamp. If he’s not on it, then it’s plugged in. I turn and make my way across the living room. Arriving at his side, I wrap my arms around his torso like I always have. Even now that I’m fully grown, my head still barely comes up to his chest.
“Thank you,” I say into his t-shirt that smells like shaving cream and coffee, “for the TV.”
He hesitates for a moment, like I caught him off-guard, and then wraps one arm around my shoulders, holding my head against his chest with the other. He doesn’t say anything, but presses his nose into the top of my hair and stays like that for longer than usual. And I don’t let go because I don’t know what else to do.
Scott’s always been my second dad. I love my real dad, of course, but he still lives in Colorado and I’ve lived with Scott since elementary school. He’s always done things with us that dads are supposed to do, but suddenly I don’t know how to act because it’s always been him who comforts us when we’re upset, not the other way around.
Finally, he gives my shoulder blades a quick rub with his palms and pulls away. He turns quickly, but I hear him sniff as he heads toward the garage, not daring to look at me before shutting the door behind him. Back at the kitchen island, my mom is pouring boiling water from the electric kettle into her mug. She tosses a tea bag inside and presses the top on as I approach.
“How are you holding up, love?” she exhales with a weak smile.
“Alright.”
I don’t want to talk about feelings. I’ve had enough of them for now. I think I gushed them all out into my pillow over the past few days and then into Alex’s shirt today at lunch.
