Page 19 of The Hate We Breathe
What they want is information. I wonder if they think stopping me to talk about something else will get me to slip up. It doesn’t.
I didn’t kill Morpheus—no matter how much I wish it had been me.
By the end of the last class, there’s a steady throb behind my temples, like a rubber band has been wrapped around my skull and is tightening every second. I’m tired, thirsty, hungry, and all around cranky. Still, I’m grateful to be back at Silverwood. Never thought I’d say that, but it beats being locked up in Morpheus’ mansion.
I walk towards my locker, ignoring the gazes spearing into me as well as the whispers that have picked up in volume. I was right—the second the Scorpion Kings are gone, they get brave.
“Murderer…”
The hissed word doesn’t piss me off. In fact, I’m only surprised I haven’t heard it more. Why not? I’ve been their whipping girl for months now anyway. Daughter of a criminal, why not a murderer too?
Exchanging my books for what I’ll need to do my homework, I snap my locker shut and head towards the end of the hall. The guys will be getting ready for practice now. Their last game is coming up—a fact I didn’t know until I saw one of the hand-painted banners hanging up in the front hall.
The normalcy of it all is foreign to me now. Even though I’ve craved it, wanted it, demanded it—nothing is going to be normal anymore. It fucking hurts to realize that. No matter what I do, nomatter what I say—Silverwood is always going to see me as the villain.
“Juliet?”
I’m so focused on getting out of the building that I don’t recognize my name until I nearly push through the double glass doors that lead into the student parking lot. It isn’t spoken in a whisper and there’s no venom in the tone. That’s what has me pausing and turning back.
Wide, pale blue eyes meet mine. Mads. She’s halfway down the hallway, holding a couple of textbooks against a gray sweater with the collar of a white shirt peeking out underneath. She blinks as if she’s surprised to see me here. Then, before I can open my mouth or lift my hand in a wave, she’s moving.
Walking towards me at a fast clip, people dodge her and shuffle out of her way when it becomes clear she’s not going to stop to go around them. Then, she’s running. Mads draws nearer, dropping her textbooks when she’s only a few feet away and throwing out her arms. I let out a low “oomph”as she slams into me, gripping me tight.
“Oh my god,” she says against me. “You’re back.”
“I… am?” The statement comes out as an unintentional question, but I clear my throat and repeat. “I mean, yeah, I am.”
She squeezes me tighter. I hesitate in hugging her back. The few students left in the hall watch us, some with scowls of disapproval. One brave girl—a freshman by the look of her—lifts her cell as if to take a picture of the two of us. I glare the bitch down and raise one hand behind Mads’ back and flip her off. The girl pales and quickly puts her phone down before dashing off.
“Fucking vultures,” I mutter to myself as I wrap my arms around my friend, returning her affection.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Mads says, her words sounding watery.
Okay?I struggle not to chuckle at that. I’ve got anger issues, three boyfriends, and am probably suffering from an undiagnosed disorder of some kind. But if she wants to think I’m okay because I’m standing here in front of her, who am I to tell her otherwise?
Pulling away in the next instant, Mads reaches up and quickly wipes beneath her eyes.Is she… crying?No, I decide, but her gaze is a bit glassy as she turns away and picks up the books she dropped when she threw herself at me.
I bend and help, handing her some of the pages that had fallen out of the covers. Through the glass doors, there’s already a line of cars waiting to leave the lot. More people hang around the tailgates of various cars, some chatting and oblivious, but others have their gazes turned towards the glass doors I know we can be seen from.Vultureswas too kind a description.
“So…” Lifting the last textbook, I hand it over and she thanks me in her usual quiet voice. “What’ve you been up to?”
Mads laughs again as we head outside. Thankfully, when she looks at me this time, her eyes are clear of any tears. “Seriously?” She scoffs and shakes her head. “No, we’re not doing that. We’re not those kind of girls.”
“What kind of girls?”
“The kind that don’t actually care about the shit show of their friends’ lives.” My eyes widen as she reaches out and wraps a firm hand around my wrist. “Come on, let’s go out to the football field. We can talk there.”
“Madison Torres,” I murmur as she pulls me along and I stumble after her. She’s stronger than she looks, but I don’t attempt to break her hold. “Are you skipping your extracurricular activities for me?”
Mads shoots a dark look at me over her shoulder, but otherwise doesn’t reply. My lips twitch. It’s a nice feeling having a friend care about you, knowing they worried when you weren’taround. And yeah, she’s right—maybe in the past I would’ve been one of those girls that faked her way through friendships, not actually giving a shit about the other person.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I never will be again.
8
JULIET
