Page 101 of Riot Rules
Stella: NOW.
I’m such a pathetic piece of shit. This proves it right here; I’ve finally started seeing things. I twist to the right, holding the phone over the side of the sofa, where Pax can’t see what I’m looking at. The words swim all over the screen, not making any sense. I’m lit up like a signal flare, hands trembling, heartbeat suddenly racing away from me. NowayCarrie just messaged me. Nowaythis is real.
“Dash!!!! What the fuck, man! I’m getting my ass handed to me over here. Quit fucking around.”
I check the TV screen, hissing through my teeth when I see how much shit we’re in. Not a good time to be hitting the pause button; I know exactly how Pax is going to react.
“ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE!”
Shit. I hate to be right. He looks like he’s about to kill me. I jump up from the couch, holding my phone up. “Sorry. This is important. Family shit,” I tell him.
“It’s, like, barely even dawn in the UK!” he cries.
“Exactly. It’s important.” I hurry out of his bedroom before he can chuck a shoe at my head or something. I haven’t even hit my bedroom and closed the door before very loud, very angry grind-core metal explodes from his speakers, making the walls rattle. Man, he ispissed. I’m gonna get a royal chewing out for this later.
I don’t give a shit, though.
The phone.
The message on the phone.
I half expect the mirage message to be gone when I look at the screen again. But nope. Not only is it still there, but two more messages have joined it.
Stella: I’m serious, Dash.
Stella: I’m not fucking around. Text me back!
My fingers tap at the screen of their own accord, but I stop myself. Take a breath. Regroup. I delete the gibberish I was about to send to her and write something more concise instead.
Me: When? Where?
Stella: Now. Dining hall.
Me: It’s late. Harcourt will murder us both if she catches us there.
Stella: Suggest somewhere. I can’t drive down the mountain now. They’ll hear the car.
I can’t drive up there without alerting security, either. Hugh’s been extra vigilant ever since Pax and I trashed Fitz’s den. I used to walk or run up when I spent all of those nights with Carrie, and I’m going to have to do the same now.
Me: The gazebo.
Stella: No way. I can’t complete the maze.
Fuck. I forgot how much she hates the maze.
Me: Wait for me by the entrance. We’ll go in together.
Stella: Fine. Thirty minutes. Don’t make me wait.
* * *
Some images are destined to burn within a mind for a lifetime. I round the northern wall of Wolf Hall, alive from the run up the fire road, skin prickling with sweat, and there Carrie stands, painted in moonlight, the loops of the beautiful curls spilling over her shoulders highlighted brilliant silver. Her skin is pale and radiant, her full lips a slash of perfect pink. Hard, distant eyes turn on me as I approach, and even though the dark depths of them hold no warmth, a thrill of anticipation races through me. Even with her hate so plainly on display, my soul rejoices when this girl looks at me.
She shifts uncomfortably when I reach her. “Get us to the gazebo. We can talk there.”
God, every part of me aches. I’d happily trade a year of my life for every second I get to hold her in my arms. I hide the pitiful yearning in my soul, setting my jaw. “Follow me, then.”
I’m glad I brought a flashlight. The moon’s bright enough, the sky open and clear, but the close walls of the maze are high and cast deep shadows that make it difficult to see. I lead the way through the maze, walking quickly, keen to make it to our destination, my mind reeling. What does she want to talk about? What was so urgent that she had to message me so late? What was so urgent that she had to message me,period?She’d rather bite off her own tongue than have to talk to me. Whatever this is, it must be important.
