leaves around the yard. Knowing damn well no one cares about anything I do, I turn in my seat to see what has caught their attention.
Large, warm hands settle on my shoulders, holding me in place. I look at Delaney. Her eyes widen as she stares behind me.
Byron drones on, but his words don’t register. I’m too consumed with the hands on me.
Delaney leans in to me. “All of their masks match yours,” she whispers.
“What?” I lean my head back, and sure enough, their masks are identical to Byron’s, the male counterpart of my own. Reed’s.
“Step in line. Announce your word and declaration,” Byron declares, raising his hands in the air like some sort of emperor to his people.
“You first, Palmer.” Marek’s hands skim up the sides of my neck before they leave my body.
I hate admitting how much safer I feel with them there, and yet, when I turn, I know my reality is quite the opposite. I’m not safe under his watch, and he hates it.
Delaney walks in front of me, her steps uncertain. “They’re seriously psychopaths.”
Maybe so, but there’s something in each of them, a collective reaction when any of the four look my way. There’s no way to explain it, my response or theirs, but it’s there for us to try to unwind and figure out.
Fear and understanding. Honesty and hatred. Everything we experience feels natural for us. They consume me. I’m not anything special, though.
I walk down the path to the bonfire. On the opposite side of where we stand, a couple of steps lead to a short platform. One by one, those in front of us make the trip to the top, holding tight to their heart. Their words don’t reach us, muffled and hidden by the crackling fire.
Delaney moves up, accepting Byron’s hand. He helps her up the steps. She yanks her hand away when he doesn’t immediately drop hers.
She faces the flames, her gaze searching the crowd, dancing from face-to-face, until they catch Breaker’s. His mouth turns up in a devious smile, his tongue popping his cheek out as he watches her take the marker from Byron and scribble something on the heart.
“Trust,” she says out loud. “Because I’ve learned it can’t be given freely. Thanks for that, Breaker.” Boldly, and with a confidence none of us should possess, Delaney holds up the glass heart, the contents on the front in her delicate handwriting shining in the flames.
She tosses it into the pit, carelessly, much like Breaker has handled her own. Embers flutter towards the heavens from the impact. The crowd stands stunned, some snickering at Breaker’s expense. Surprising, since the student body tends to keep a strong back for these boys.
Breaker pushes through the crowd, shoving his way to Delaney at the bottom of the steps. He presses his lips to her ear, gripping her right above her elbow. Over her shoulder, his eyes pierce into my soul. I suck in a breath when his tongue peeks out to run the length of her ear. There’s no need to see her face to know the satisfaction Delaney is getting from being possessed by Breaker.
I’ve been captivated by his kind, his mirror image in Marek, and right now, she’ll believe any words he dares to whisper. Lost souls get swept up by the rip current of other lost souls.
“What’s it going to be, Miss Weston?” Byron taps the red marker against his open palm, challenging me, daring me to overstep like Delaney has.
I yank the pen from him and rip the lid off, tossing it against Byron’s chest. My hand trembles as I write my word.
“Patience.” I hold up my heart, speaking directly to Marek. “Because I’m officially done waiting around for someone to come along to save me, to put my heart at ease. I’ll do it all on my own”—I turn to the crowd and find Marek’s ice blue eyes watching me— “even if it kills me.”
I purposefully scan the crowd for each of the boys. Dixon swallows harshly, his neck bobbing from the pressure. Breaker settles in next to Marek, and at the same time, they take off their masks, watching me, curious at what I’m getting at.
My glass heart flies into the flames, and I turn to escape this night. It was a bad idea to come here, to face them outside of the classroom. At least there, I feel safe. Here, I’m exposed to them.
Byron wraps his hand around my bicep, discreetly enough not to bring attention