“OKAY, THAT’S IT,” TATUM ANNOUNCES, trying to tear into her packet of crackers. “I want to know 100 percent of what is going on. It’s not fair!” she whines.
“Don’t do that.” I rub my temples, still tired after the shit for sleep I got on Saturday night. “I seriously have so much going on right now.”
“I know,” Tatum whispers, giving up on trying to tear open her pack of carbs. “Remember? I was there.”
“There’s more. God.” I sit back. “There’s so much more, but I don’t even know where to start and what to tell you because I already know you’re going to have more questions. Questions I don’t know the answers to.” I exhale and open my mouth, just about to continue, when I see the Kings walk into the cafeteria out the corner of my eye. Tatum picks up her unopened crackers again when she sees them all walk in. “Now I need carbs.”
Bishop takes a seat beside me, and Nate goes on the other side as the rest of the boys squeeze in next to Tatum and Bishop.
“I don’t remember calling you over,” I snark.
“No need.” Nate grins, biting into his apple.
Rolling my eyes, I look back at Tatum to see her staring at something over my shoulder. Her mouth is agape, cracker in the midair.
I inch my head over my shoulder to see what she’s looking at when my mouth slams closed. “Excuse me,” I murmur, getting off my seat and making my way toward Damon. He’s standing there in some of Nate’s clothes—loose jeans, black tee, and white high-top sneakers. It’s all Nate, since I still haven’t found time to get Damon his own.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, watching as everyone stares at him.
What on earth are they staring at? I know he’s funny-looking, but now people are just being rude. Or maybe I just think he’s funny-looking because he’s my brother. I wouldn’t know.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Talk.”
He takes my arm and pulls me back through the girls hallway. Waiting for a couple of people to walk past, his voice drops. “Katsia wants to meet with me.”
“What? How do you know?” I whisper back, smiling to a girl who is in my English class as she passes by, looking at us suspiciously.
“Obviously because I’ve left. Have you read any more of the book?” he asks urgently.
“No, I haven’t found time, and why does she want to meet with you?”
“Find time to read. Because she need me.” He pushes off the wall and walks back down the hallway then out the front doors.
“Well goodbye to you too!” I yell toward him as the doors slam shut.
Walking back into the cafeteria, I head to my chair, pulling it out and taking a seat.
“What’d he want?” Bishop inquires beside me.
I ignore him.
“Who is he?” Tatum asks, her eyes searching him out.
“My brother and he’s gone.”
Her attention snaps to me. “What? How?” She lowers her voice. “Madison…?”
“As I said earlier,” I reply, tossing my salad around with my fork, “I have a lot to tell you.”
“You’re not telling her shit,” Bishop snaps, looking at me.
I finally acknowledge him. He’s so close—too close to me—that I can almost feel his breath fall over my lips. “And I said you can’t tell me what the fuck to do, Bishop.”
He chuckles, tossing a carrot in his mouth—my carrot. “Oh, Madison. You have no idea the kind of things that tone does to me.”
I’m just about to open my mouth to say something else, when Nate interrupts, “Anyway!” He looks between both of us, his eyes wide like he’s scolding a couple of toddlers. “Tatum is fine, B. She knows almost everything else that has happened.”
“Not everything,” I mutter under my breath.
Tatum cuts her glare to me. “Oh? What else don’t I know? Hmm?”
Pushing my chair back, I get to my feet, picking up my tray. “I’m done. I’ll see you later.” Walking out the atrium doors, I make my way toward PE. I’m halfway down the corridor when I decide I don’t want to even be at school right now. Turning around, I start heading to the elevator that leads down to the student parking lot when a thought pops into my head. I haven’t seen Miss Winters since I’ve been back.
Turning back around again, I jog toward the library, pushing open the large wooden doors. The smell of dusty old books hits me, and I inhale, relishing in the familiar scent. It has to be my favorite aroma, aside from whatever Bishop wears. Usually. Not right now, because right now I hate him. Bypassing the two quiet students who are studying, I make my way to the front desk.
“Hey!” I smile down at the blonde.
The girl raises her face, and my smile falls. “You’re not Miss Winters.” I look around. “Where is she?”