Fractured Things - Samantha Lovelock Page 0,58

something like fear sitting heavily on her features.

“About that druggie comment,” she starts haltingly. “I don’t want you to think—" I put both my hands up and stop her before she can say anything else.

“Sun, I don’t think anything, and you don’t need to explain, not right now. We can sit down and talk in private later, away from this place, okay?” With a grateful nod, she takes a breath and closes her eyes for a few seconds. When she opens them again, she seems calmer and more like her usual self. There’s silence between us, the two of us just standing there staring at each other until we both start laughing. I sag against the row of sinks and bury my face in my hands, my laughter taking on notes of both hilarity and panic.

“Did you see her face?” Sunday gasps when she stops howling long enough to catch her breath, her worries about Hali’s comment put aside for another time. The restroom door flies open, making me jump, and Aylie is standing there, flushed and grinning like a fool.

“Aha!” She leans back into the hallway and loudly calls to Roxy. “They’re in here!” A flurry of footsteps later, they both barrel into the room with us, this time Roxy standing guard with her back to the door. I assume they’re well aware of whatever Hali was referring to in the comments she made to Sunday, and that assumption seems to be confirmed when they both look at Sunday questioningly, and she gives a slight nod back.

Right then, moving on.

“Is it true? Did you find out Callum Torsten is your biological father?” Roxy asks, always the blunt one.

“The paternity test results aren’t back yet, but I couldn’t resist.” I shrug. “She’s gotten worse since that night, hasn’t she?”

Aylie grimaces and nods affirmatively.

“I’m so sorry she said all that crap about your mom, Stell. That was totally uncalled for,” the small redhead says.

“It was, but I get the impression even if she knew what happened to my mom, she still would’ve said what she did. She’s well on her way to becoming just like her father.”

“Shit, that’s a scary thought, isn’t it?” Sunday gives a little shudder.

“You should have seen Poe’s reaction,” Roxy says.

“I don’t really care what he thought, Rox,” I say in the most convincing tone I can muster.

Lie.

“Poe Halliday can drop off the face of the earth. He and his opinions mean nothing to me anymore.”

Another lie.

“Let’s just go to class. I’m sure our teachers can’t wait to load us up with assignments for all the work we missed when we were gone,” Sunday says, effectively changing the direction of the conversation. I give my face a brief once over in the mirror and nudge my best friend gratefully as the four of us leave the restroom and head for class.

Sunday was right with her prediction. While our teachers did have a certain sympathy for my situation, they didn’t skimp on the make-up assignments. Cecily told the school I was dealing with a private family issue but refused to give them any further details. Sunday’s parents echoed her explanation. Either the teachers were pissed because they only got a half-assed reason for us not being in class for the last two weeks, or they were just being dicks because they could.

By the time lunch rolls around, I’m already loaded down with homework, and my stomach is growling. I completely forgot about the apple I shoved in my purse this morning, so I haven’t eaten since dinner last night. Sunday’s moaning about how it’s physically impossible the amount of homework assignments we have equals what we missed in class when I meet her and Roxy at my locker. Happy to dump my books and pretend they don’t exist for the next hour, I slam the metal door shut and grab my two friends, practically dragging them to the cafeteria.

“Wait, where’s Aylie?” I ask, coming to a sudden halt just outside the lunchroom doors.

“She said she had something to take care of and she’d meet us here,” Roxy says with a shrug.

“Good enough for me. I’m starving.” Walking into the cafeteria is a singularly weird experience. It looks like news of my confrontation with Hali the Horrible has spread, and I’m greeted with nods and smiles. The line at the pasta bar is suddenly non-existent and the three of us move to fill our plates quickly.

“Dude. I think that girl over there just curtsied at me,” I say to