Page 73 of Riot House
Her pupils almost double in size. I can see them dilate from four fucking feet away. “Urgh, Elle. Just give me the journal. I swear to God, you’ll be happier for not knowing what’s inside it.”
What the fuck? Am I supposed to just hand it over? Hold it over my head and play keep away with it? Carina’s a foot and a half taller than me, so that shit ain’t gonna work. It’ll cause so much contention between us if I don’t give her what she wants. I’ll lose my only real friend at Wolf Hall. And for what? Because I’m suspicious as fuck that something untoward happened here? Yes. That’s a good reason to make a stand, but if the police are already dealing with the matter…
Reluctantly, I hold out the journal to her. I don’t want to lose Carina. And this Mara girl might be a ghost, wandering these halls and lurking in the shadows of my bedroom at night, but maybe Carina’s right. Maybe that situation has nothing to do with me, and I should leave it well alone.
Carina sags with relief when her hand closes around the journal and I let go. Guilt hides in her eyes, though. She feels bad that she’s strong-armed me into doing this now that she’s got her way. “Thank you, Elle. Really. I mean it. I’m grateful that you’re trusting me. I know…I know how it must look…”
“You do?” I’m sharper than the point of a blade. “Really?”
She sighs, hugging the journal tightly to her chest, like I might make a grab for it and run out of the room. “Mara was really troubled, Elodie. She was so much fun, and it was hard not to love her, but she was allergic to the truth a lot of the time. Just didn’t want to hear it. Occasionally, reality and the way she wanted things to be sometimes got a little blurred around the edges. I’m sure this journal’s full of things she half-fantasized about. Daydreams that could do a lot of damage if the wrong person read them.” She huffs, exasperation on her face. “Can we just forget about it and move on with the day please? I just want things to be normal again.”
Her last statement seems so loaded now. I suspect that she’s not just talking about the chilled out, relaxing afternoon we had planned for ourselves; I think she’s talking about life at Wolf Hall in general, and the fact that nothing will ever be normal again here if people keep on bringing up Mara’s mysterious vanishing act. I suck in a deep breath through my nose, trying to release the tension that’s built up inside of me. “Okay. Fine. I won’t bring it up again. But you need to answer one question first.”
She chews on her lip, anxious, but nods. “What do you want to know?”
“Did Wren or any of the other Riot House boys have something to do with Mara’s disappearance?”
She stiffens. Shakes her head. “No. I’d love to be able to pin something on them, but they were inside the house all night. The three of them. I saw them with my own eyes. Dashiell…” she winces. “Dashiell was with me. All of us were in the kitchen, playing drinking games. We were all so fucked, none of us left the house until the next morning. Wren passed out in front of the fireplace and slept there ‘til dawn. Pax was making cocktails all night. Whatever happened to Mara…it had nothing to do with them.”
I parse this inside my head, letting it take root. Wren wasn’t involved in the girl’s mysterious vanishing act. He’s innocent of any possible crime that took place that night. “Okay. Well. Fine. I suppose that’s an end to it, then.”
Carina gives me a relieved smile. “Great. You’re the best, Elle. Anyone ever told you that?”
“All the time.” I smile tightly, but no matter how hard I force it, I know it doesn’t reach my eyes. I watch as she puts the journal into the backpack full of beauty products she brought with her to my room, zipping the bag up tight once the book’s hidden out of sight.
“I’m done with the braids,” she says. “You want me to give you a manicure? I have a gel light. I can do a proper job.”
I register the stiffness in her voice; she’s trying hard to wipe away the memory of what just happened, but it’s going to take more than a gel manicure to erase this awkwardness. If she was one of my friends back in Tel Aviv, I’d call her out on her shit immediately and demand to know what the fuck was going on. That kind of pushing isn’t appropriate here, though. Best just to forget about the journal, and Mercy’s obvious meddling. Best just to forget about Mara, and the dark cloud that I can now feel hanging over the academy.
I replace the piece of wood, forming the windowsill again, and I amp up the wattage on my smile, trying to make it look real this time. “Sure thing. But only if you promise not to paint my nails bright yellow.”
In The Dark…
I am nameless.
Lost.
Forgotten.
The air feels like shards of glass, bristling inside my lungs.
My throat’s raw from screaming.
When the straw appears through the hole this time, I have no option but to drink.
I’m prolonging this torture by gulping down the tepid, foul water that flows through the plastic and into my mouth, but I’m not as strong as I thought I was.
If I die, it’ll be because I was trapped here, and no one thought to come looking.
But I’m too weak to give up yet.
25
WREN
“I don’t give a shit,fuck face. I bought a bowler hat and I need to wear it. End of story.” Pax throws back the remains of his beer and tosses the bottle so that it spins in the air, spraying amber liquid from its mouth as it flies end over end toward the trash can. Dashiell visually reprimands him with a trademarked Lovett family frown of disapproval. Pax ignores the look, smirking like a bastard when the bottle finds it mark and clatters loudly into the receptacle on the other side of the kitchen.
“Alex hashairin A Clockwork Orange. You’re gonna look nothing like him.” Holding his own beer bottle to his lips, Dashiell drinks, his throat working. I sit on the stool by the breakfast bar, saying nothing, brooding, glowering at each of them in turn to make it perfectly clear how little I’m enjoying this.
