for her to enter.
But how was she supposed to do this? Face them? It wasn’t the first time she’d been two-sleeves short of a straight-jacket.
If her mom had any say, they’d have lost the key to her room.
Sucking in a deep breath, she repeated her personal mantra. “I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”
Myles reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “No one thinks that.”
He overestimated the kids in their nowhere town. The people of Grafton, Ohio loved gossip. It entertained their small minds.
He squeezed her hand tighter as if sensing she didn’t believe him. She looked down at their joined hands. “You know, this is why everyone has thought we’re a thing since like the fifth grade.”
“And since when do we care what they think?” He never had, but as she walked down that hall, Brea couldn’t think of anything else.
Maybe her mom was right. She did belong at Clarkson permanently, somewhere that could help her rid herself of the hallucinations and surges of anger and fear she couldn’t control.
“If you didn’t spend all your time with me, maybe you’d have more friends.” She pulled her hand free, pretending to adjust the strap of her backpack.
“Why do I need other friends?” He stopped at her locker and leaned against the pale metal. “Who else is going to dissect every scene of The Witcher with me? Have you finished season one yet? I’m dying to tell you all the parts you missed by not reading the books.”
“Myles.” She shook her head in exasperation as she turned the rusted dial. It stuck on the last number—like it always did—and Myles hammered it with his fist until it popped open. She slid her coat off and shoved it in. Opening her bag, she stuffed the books for her first classes inside. “We’ve been over this. I’m not a reader.” But she was a watcher. She watched every single fantasy movie and television show multiple times and discussed them with Myles. “I don’t need to read when I have my very own walking-talking Encyclopedia of fantasy to tell me all the parts that didn’t show up in the movies.”
“You’re missing out.” Myles shook his head.
“Speaking of missing out, what did you do while I was in prison?”
“You weren’t in prison.”
She rolled her eyes. With how closely the staff watched her, she may as well have been. That’s what happens when you shove your mom across the room and into the Christmas tree. She still couldn’t explain why or how she did it, but that didn’t matter.
“Okay, fine. While I was in the hospital spending all my time in therapy, did you hang out with anyone else?”
He only shrugged and propped one Converse-clad foot against the locker. Guilt gnawed at her, but that wasn’t a new feeling. She appreciated how loyal Myles was to her. Throughout her life, he was the only person she’d ever been able to count on. But he deserved more than a messed-up girl who saw inhuman freaks everywhere she went.
She met Myles in fifth grade when his family moved into the farm next door to hers. It was a love-at-first-sight kind of thing. Another lie. Love. But not with Myles. It was never romantic between them, but they’d bonded over their love of horses and desire to be anywhere but on their respective farms.
He was an attractive boy, and she knew for a fact the girls in the school liked him. It was one of the reasons they hated her so much. He could have been popular. All he’d have to do was make that short walk across the cafeteria at lunch and slide onto the bench with the rest of his football teammates.
Yep, that was right. Brea Robinson’s best friend was a football player.
They walked to his locker so he could grab his books.
“Are you ever going to answer my question?” She tried to ignore the students hurrying down the hall, trying to get to class like it was any normal day. For them, she supposed, it was.
They didn’t have to try and re-integrate into a place of whispers and accusing glares. She hadn’t missed those.
Myles slammed his locker shut, and the sound reverberated down the emptying hall. The tardy bell rang, and he grinned. “Ooh saved by the bell.”
She hurried after him. “We have the same first period, doofus.”
They entered English Lit and walked to their usual seats near the back.
“Hi, Myles. You can sit by me.” Ellen, a senior cheerleader, sent him a wave.
Brea had never