Page 80 of Revenge At Raleigh High
“Oh, I am. It’s just…it’s nothing.” My mind is racing. Alex was released from prison hours ago, and he didn’t come to the hospital. He didn’t come to see me. If that doesn’t speak volumes, then I don’t know what does. Alex is angry with me. He hates me, and I don’t blame him either. He’s been trying so hard to stay out of trouble since he came to Raleigh, and yetImanaged to fuck things up for him. The past three weeks must have been hell for him, stuck behind bars. I don’t blame him for avoiding me like the plague.
How am I going to get through the rest of the school year if I have to see him every day…
Fuck, how am I going to live with myself if my inaction and stupidity leads to the family court deciding that Alex is an unfit guardian for Ben? He’s been vindicated of any blame in Jake’s shooting, but the fact that he was caught up in such a messy situation in the first place is definitely going to destroy any hopes he had of bringing Ben home with him soon.
“Shhh, oh—oh my god, sweetheart, are youcrying? It’s okay.” Mom pulls me into her, letting me fall against her as I softly sob into her silk blouse. This is the very best outcome we could have hoped for. It’s a miracle that Alex isn’t going to suffer any devastating consequences because of the fact that he protected me. This is wonderful news…but at the same time it feels like the world is fucking ending.
“I ruined it,” I whisper. “I ruined everything, Mom.”
“No! No, I’m not gonna let you sit here and come out with dumb shit like that. None of this is your fault, Silver. You hear me? None of it. Jacob Weaving’s a certified psycho, and he deserves everything he’s got coming to him. Alex has probably just gone home to shower or something. Get a change of clothes. If I were him, I’d need a moment to decompress, too. Just give him a little time, okay, sweetheart.”
There’s a light rap at the door. Dad’s standing there with a frown on his face, holding a bright pink, “It’s a Girl!” balloon in his hand. Next to him, Max is strangling a bouquet of flowers, radiating anxiety as he meets my gaze. “Everything okay?” Dad asks wearily.
“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.” I sniff, wiping at my nose with the back of my hand. “Ready to go home, that’s all.” Jerking my chin at the balloon, I arch an eyebrow at my father. “Seriously?It’s a girl?”
“Sorry. They didn’t have, ‘Hey! You survived a near death experience, and you’re finally getting the fuck out of here!’”
“I suppose it’ll have to do then.” I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I put on a valiant show as Mom and Dad chat amicably, packing up the rest of my things, but the entire time I’m pretending to be okay, pretending not to hurt, there three words echoing on repeat inside my head, over and over again.
Alex didn’t come.
Alex didn’t come.
Alex didn’t come.
Alex didn’t come.
Epilogue
SILVER
Theclick, click, clickandsnuffleoutside my bedroom door lets me know that I have a visitor. I’ve been hiding in my room, feeling desolate and lost, for the past ten hours, and the time has stretched out, each second a minute, each minute an hour, each hour a lifetime.
I can’t believe it.
I can’t believe it’s ending like this.
Alex—
Dum dum dum dum dum!
My visitor scratches at the door, rattling the wood in the frame, requesting to be let in. Groaning, I drag myself up off the bed and shuffle zombie-like over to the door. I don’t really hurt anymore. I get twinges in my ribs, since it’s harder for those bones to knit and heal, but apart from the occasional shitty headache when I watch too much T.V., I feel almost back to normal. My lethargy today is purely because of my mood.
When I open the door, Nipper is sitting neatly on the rug in the hall, ears pricked, gazing up at me expectantly. His black, wiry coat is tinged with grey on the ends, and his dark, soulful eyes seem to hold a lot of questions:Are you okay?Where did you go? What’s wrong with you now? Can I come in? When are we going to play?And most, important of all:Got any food?
I sigh, shaking my head, stepping to one side to let the small dog past me as he gets to his feet and hobbles into my bedroom.
The night Jake broke into the house and kidnapped me, he’d come across Nipper in the kitchen. From the mess, Dad thinks Nipper had been going through the trash at the time; he couldn’t conceive why Jake would have dumped out the trash can onto the kitchen floor, so Nipper had seemed like the likely culprit.
I’d heard Nipper barking ferociously from my hiding spot. I’d heard him growl, and then I’d heard him yelp and go quiet. While I was trembling, afraid and alone in that closet, Nipper had faced-off with Jake, and the evil monster had taken a steak knife to him. Three times: that’s how many times Jake stabbed Nipper with the knife. It’s also how many times the vet at the emergency animal clinic told Dad to put Nipper down in the days after I was admitted to hospital. Thankfully, Dad refused.
It was a close call. The scrappy little dude is always going to walk with a limp, but he seems to be getting better every day. He also seems to have decided we’re best friends. Dad says it’s because Nipper knows I’m a fighter, just like him, and fighters need to stick together.
The dog growls at the end of the bed, biting the corner of the duvet. He can’t jump up yet. He’ll probably never be able to, what with the damage that was done to his hind legs, so this is how he tells me that he wants me to pick him up.
I oblige him, allowing myself a small smile when the cheeky bastard scurries up the length of the bed and proceeds to make a nest for himself amongst my pillows. I curl up into a ball beside him, letting him nestle into the hollow created by my body, and after a while, he falls asleep.
I never knew a dog could snore so loud.
