was told to check to make sure she was really sick when she called out of work.”
“Oh.” I focus on my food, not knowing what to add now that I know she was basically asked to snitch on Ashton.
“It’s not like that,” she defends, reading my thoughts. “They trust me here. And I don’t want to ruin that. It makes things easier for me. I didn’t tell them that you guys snuck out. I wouldn’t do that.”
“You knew?” I ask in surprise.
“I saw you leave. I even distracted Mrs. Seyer when she started walking toward the kitchen. You weren’t very quiet, climbing out the window.”
I grimace. “Well … thank you … for covering for us.”
“You don’t believe Brendan’s your friend, do you?” She can’t meet my eyes when she says this, but I note the angry quiver of her chin.
“Yeah. I’ve figured that out,” I tell her, inspecting her closely.
There’s more to this girl who seems to go unnoticed most of the time. I guess that’s the advantage of being overlooked—the ability to observe undetected.
I’m about to ask what he’s done for her to distrust him when she sets down her fork and smooths her skirt nervously. “I hate how he treats her.”
“Who? Ashton?” I clarify, struck by her vehemence. “Why?”
“He thinks he can do whatever he wants because he saved her. Like she owes him something.”
“Saved her?” Now I’m really confused. And Brendan may be a lot of things, but he’s not one to coerce loyalty. Especially from Ashton. He has too much pride for that. “What are you talking about?”
Sophia looks stunned, like she’s staring into oncoming headlights. “Forget it. I gotta go.”
Before I can stop her, she’s scurrying across the dining hall, abandoning her tray of untouched food. Her escape catches the attention of a few eyes, but most of the students are too absorbed in their own drama to notice.
The idea of Brendan saving anyone is unsettling. But what’s more so is that Ashton needed to be saved. Now who’s going to save her from him?
Ashton is still absent from the dining hall the next morning, and she continues to ignore my messages. I’m seriously about to demand Mrs. Seyer check that she’s still alive when she finally makes an appearance at dinner. And she looks … fine. Like, better than fine.
Her hair is styled in gorgeous beach waves, and her previously pallid complexion is concealed behind makeup. She looks like she spent the weekend at the spa retreat with Dr. Kendall.
She sits at her usual seat across from me with a mountain of food on her plate.
I gawk at her.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” She picks up her phone to look at her reflection.
“Where have you been? How are you feeling? Why didn’t you answer any of my million texts?” I demand without taking a breath.
“Oh, sorry,” she says but doesn’t really mean it. “I needed some quiet time. But I’m good.” Her tone is chipper. I actually hate that word, but I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like she’s hiding behind the mask of a self-absorbed twit.
Who is this girl sitting across from me?! Because it sure in hell isn’t Ashton. I mean, she is. But there’s not a single authentic thing about her, and it’s pissing me off. I continue to stare at her, waiting for my friend to split this plastic veneer open and crawl out.
I barely notice when Sophia and Lance join us.
“What’s up, cuz?” Lance asks, sitting next to me. I shoot daggers at him. He’s oblivious. “You look great, Ashton.”
“Thank you.” She smiles brightly. “Nice that someone noticed.” I think she’s talking about me, but her attention is focused behind me.
The chair beside me scrapes on the linoleum, and Brendan sits, setting a plate of grilled salmon and Brussels sprouts in front of him. I grimace in disgust.
“You can’t sit next to me and eat that,” I tell him, scooting my chair away.
I await the arrogant rebuttal, but nothing happens. That’s when I realize the entire table is silent. I look from Brendan to Ashton. She isn’t eating. She’s posed with her arms crossed, waiting for Brendan to acknowledge her. But he’s obsessively cutting his salmon into the tiniest pieces, like he’s about to feed them to a squirrel.
Sophia concentrates on stabbing her peas like it’s an Olympic sport, and Lance ping-pongs his eyeballs between Ashton and Brendan, anticipating who will break first.
And … it’s Ashton.
She throws her entire plate across the table