Page 71 of Riot House
I promised back in the gazebo that I’d always give her my truths. I just don’t know how to tell her this, though. That I wanted to face her when I was inside her. That I wanted to kiss her. That I wanted to hold her. That I wanted toseeher.
I don’t even know how to admit it to myself.
24
ELODIE
A secret isa terrible and wonderful thing. It’s a flickering candle flame in your chest, warming you from the inside. It can have you grinning into the crook of your elbow, face hidden in your shirt, while you wish away the hours until ‘later’ arrives, when you get to see the object of your infatuation again. But a secret can also make you feelsooooshit.
“I’m so glad you transferred. Honestly, I was so miserable before you showed up. Senior year at Wolf Hall was going to be so fucking horrible thanks to Dash. But even those Riot House pieces of shit can’t ruin the last few months here now. My grandmama always said a good friend can fix anything. God, your hair is beautiful,” Carina says, her fingers quickly working over my head. Sitting on the floor in between her legs, I stay still as she works her magic, taming my unruly hair into a complicated braid. “Have you ever thought about dyeing it back to your natural color?” she asks.
She’s no idea that I feel incredibly guilty over what she just said to me. I’m not a good friend. I’m anawfulfriend. I can’t fix anything. I’ve gotten myself mixed up with a guy Carina hates, who’s best friends with the guy who broke her fucking heart, and I can’t see myself getting out of the situation any time soon. Selfishly…god, I can’t even believe that I’m letting myself think this…I don’twantto extricate myself from the situation, even though I know how hurt and upset she’d be if she knew what I was up to. What kind of friend does that make me?
And now she’s talking about dyeing my hair back to my natural color?
The knife twists in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I pick at my fingernails, suddenly very interested in the floorboards. “Uhh…yeah. Actually, I have. I’ve been meaning to, but…”
“But you don’t like being a brunette?”
“No, it’s just, my Mom. She and I have the exact hair color. It made my dad so angry when she died, having to look at me every day, reminding him of how similar we are. Wewere,” I say, correcting myself. “He’ll be furious if I change it back.”
“Wow.” Carina stops braiding and peers down over my shoulder, looking at me incredulously. “Your father’s five and a half thousand miles away, Elle. You’re nearly eighteen. You can do whatever you want. And besides…why the fuck should you need to dye your hair just to please him? He sounds like a fucking prick. Sorry if that’s rude, but I’m calling it how I see it. I’ve heard nothing good about the man.”
This is where I should leap to Colonel Stillwater’s defense. That’s what any other person might do, if someone had called their father out on his actions. But honestly, I have nothing nice to tell her. How sad is that? Every bright and shiny memory from my childhood was because of my mother. With her lopsided, warm smile, and the silly voices she’d put on for me when we’d have tea parties with my stuffed horses, and the way she’d hug me so tight whenever she sent me to bed that I thought my lungs might pop…she was the only light in an otherwise very dark storm.
“Yeah, he’s kind of a law unto himself,” I tell her. “The man barely even answers to Uncle Sam. He’s not used to people questioning his edicts. He sure as hell isn’t used to people disobeying direct orders.”
“He ordered you not to dye your hair?”
“In no uncertain terms.”
“All right. That’s it. I’m driving to the pharmacy at some point and I’m buying a box of hair dye. I’ll leave it for you outside your door. If you have any objections, air them now or forever hold your pe—”
“Ohhh, hair dyeing party. Sounds like fun.” Carina and I both look up at the same time. It takes a second to process the fact that Mercy Jacobi’s hovering on the precipice of my bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb while she inspects her flawless French manicure. She looks so much like Wren that my stomach promptly ties itself into a double knot.
“What do you want, Merce?” Carina asks. She doesn’t sound surprised that the girl’s showed up here. Not that she sounds happy about it, either.
“Lovely to see you, too, Carrie. Of all the people here at Wolf Hall, I was excited to seeyouthe most.” The cold, calculating smile that spreads across her face is unconvincing. It sets my teeth on edge. “Remember how much time we all used to spend here together,” she says, entering my room and casually looking around. She pretends to be interested in the little knick knacks I have dotted around the place, but I can tell she’s bored by everything she touches. Nothing’s expensive enough, or rare enough, or valuable enough to capture her attention. I don’t know this for a fact, but it’s not hard to imagine what kind of person Mercy is from the way she sneers down her nose at the little music box in her hand.
“This is Elodie’s room now,” Carina says. “Maybe you should wait for an invitation before you saunter in here like you own the fucking place.”
Mercy holds a hand to her chest, her mouth pulling down into a phony looking mask of horror. “Shit, you’re right.” Her green eyes, not quite as stunning as Wren’s, flit down to me where I’m sitting on the floor. “Elodie, right? Sorry for invading your girl time with our delightful Carina, here. It’s just I was walking past and saw you guys in here, and it brought back so many fond memories of my time here before I left Wolf Hall. Me, you, Pres and Mara. Right Carrie?”
Carina’s eyes darken. Her whole mood darkens. Her expression’s all storm and restless sea. “Don’t you have anything better to be doing right now? I heard they’re planning another Riot House party. Why don’t you go and mess with your brother or something? I’m sure you’ve concocted plenty of evil trials and tribulations for the residents of Wolf Hall while you’ve been away.”
Mercy shrugs at me, pulling a face. “She never used to be this boring, y’know.” Then, to Carina, “As you well know, Wren’s still pissy at me for what happened with Mara. I haven’t been invited to the party, so I won’t be participating in the planning this time. I’ll still go, though. Dash still has a sweet spot for me, even if Wren is acting like a little bitch. Does Dash still have a sweet spot foryou, Carrie? I have a feeling that he does.” She grins, an unpleasant slash across her pretty face.
Carina glares at the girl as she wanders over to the largest window and looks out over the maze. “I don’t give a shit about Dash,” Carina growls. “He can go to hell for all I care.”
“Hewouldbe perfectly at home there,” Mercy says thoughtfully. “I take it that means thatyouwon’t be coming to the party, then?”
“Of course not.”
Mercy pivots, turning sharply from the window. “And you, pretty little Elodie? I hear my brother’s quite taken with you. Will you be going to the party?”
Fuck. What the hell am I supposed to say here? Pax and Dash said they were planning a party last night when I went to Riot House, but I wasn’t extended an invitation. Wren never mentioned it to me. I have absolutely no idea, now, if he’ll be expect—
“Don’t be stupid,” Carina mutters. “Your brother’s fucking damaged, Mercy. Like, mentally unhinged. Elodie’s not dumb enough to go anywhere near him. She’s not going to the party, either, now please will you just go already? We’re trying to enjoy what’s left of our Sunday, and you’re ruining it with your snark.”
