Page 31 of The Demons We Hide

What am I doing?I wonder not for the first time. The longer I stand there, the less I’m jostled as the main hall empties of students and teachers wander to their classrooms to begin the day.

It isn’t until the second and final bell rings that I jolt back to myself and realize … I’m alone, and I’m late.

“Jules?” Blinking at my name, I turn in the direction of the softly feminine voice at my back to find Mads standing there, holding a stack of papers perched precariously in her arms. “What are you doing? First period already started.”

“I—” I don’t know how to tell her that I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here, but the main hall feels like it’s closing in on me. Just like the night that I found Bran fucking Avery, my chest squeezes tight and a riot of emotions clambers against my insides, each one vying for dominance. Only, none of them can seem to rise above the others this time, which leaves me with an odd hollowness in my gut and nausea swirling around my stomach.

Her eyebrows draw down and she stares at me for a moment more. When I don’t offer her any sort of explanation for my just standing here, she seems to understand. “Why don’t you help me deliver these?” she offers, nodding down to the pile in her hands, and almost as soon as she does, the upper half of the papers slides to the side.

With a gasp, she attempts to lean in the opposite direction to keep the top half from falling. Unfortunately, it has the wrong effect and the papers slide over the side, scattering across the tiled floor.

“Fuck!”

The sound of her curse echoing around the empty hall makes me jolt. Her big blue eyes lift to meet mine, widening, and I have the distinct impression that if she didn’t still have some of the papers in her hands, she would have clapped a palm over her mouth. A snort escapes me, and I bite down on my lower lip to stop it from turning into a laugh.

“I…” The two of us look down at the pile at her feet. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before.”

She groans and I move forward, kneeling as she ducks down, and together, we start to gather up the documents and papers. “I don’t usually,” she admits. “Once I start, it’s hard to stop, and if my parents heard me…”

With a hiss, I yank my hand back as one of the papers slides across the pad of one finger, slicing right through the outer layer of skin. There’s no blood, but the damn thinghurts.

“Are you okay?” Mads’ soft question tells me she isn’t talking about the cut, but I pretend she is as I hurry to reach for the next collection of documents.

“Yeah,” I say, hauling several packets on top of one another and stacking them on my knees. “It’s just a paper cut.”

The sensation of eyes boring into me burns into the side of my face, but I ignore it in favor of finishing up our task. Once all the papers have been collected and distributed evenly between our two piles, we rise.

“Where are you taking these?” I ask.

“Front office,” she says, nodding down the main hall. “Gonna help?”

I nod and together, the two of us head off in the direction.

There are many things I like about Mads. Between her and Roquel, I think I actually prefer her. It’s not that I’m not grateful to Roquel and the push she’s given me as well as a place to stay for as long as she has, but Mads’ personality just seems to mesh well with my own.

In my old life at Silverwood Prep, I suspect Roquel would’ve been someone I’d hang out with but never trust. Mads, though… Mads is quiet and observant. She’s dangerous like that, but at least she’s real. Roquel is shallow and easy to understand and right now, I need predictable. Still, though, Mads lets me remain quiet and doesn’t push the way Roquel might—that is, if Roquel ever looked up from her phone or her reflection long enough to notice that the people around her aren’t as obsessed with themselves as she is—and I appreciate it.

The old bat of a woman that mans the front office looks up as we enter, and her eyes narrow on me. I don’t say a word, choosing, instead, to let Mads take the lead as she approaches.

“Hey, we were asked to bring these documents from Mr. Rogers’ office,” she says, voice bubbly and innocent. “Is there somewhere you’d like us to put them?”

Eyeing me with an open hostility that I’ve grown far too accustomed to, the secretary nods over to a rickety-looking table sitting against the wall just before you enter the back hall that leads towards Principal Long’s office. “Set them there, please,” she directs.

Mads smiles sweetly. “Thanks!” I trail her, and as soon as she drops her load onto the table, I do the same.

“Do you need a return pass?” the secretary asks, and I notice that she doesn’t look at me as she makes the offer.

Mads is either unaware or is great at ignoring people’s animosity because she doesn’t even let on that the woman appears anything other than helpful. “No, that’s alright,” she says. “Homeroom is about to end anyway, so we’ll just be on our way.”

It is?I glance at the clock stationed on the wall behind the secretary’s desk. To my surprise, she’s right, and we’ve got a few minutes until the next bell rings. How long had I stood in the front hall before she’d found me?

Mads hurries past me, snagging my arm with hers and hooking us together as she waves goodbye to the grouchy secretary and leads us both back out into the hall. Once we’re out of the line of sight of the old bat, she sighs and releases me from her hold, brushing her blond hair back over her shoulders before grimacing and reaching for a hairband at her wrist to tie it up.

“Alright,” she says. “Let’s go grab shit for next period before the bell rings, and you can tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

All that stomach-churning, gut-clenching anxiety returns. “There’s nothing going on with me.”

The arched eyebrow she sends my way tells me that I’m not getting away from the bullshit, and I blow out a breath. “Okay, yeah, there is,” I admit a second later, “but I’m not really in a place to talk about it.”

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