Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,6

slink away and never come back, but doing so would only draw attention to the fact Mother’s reprimand seems to be not only for Callum, but for everyone in the room.

My brother’s glare burns the side of my face. He hates Beck and I have no idea why. The State paired us because we’re perfect for each other. Like Annalise must be for Callum. Everyone knows State doesn’t make mistakes.

“Beck,” Mother calls out. “Can you come here, please?”

Even though he looks calm, I can tell he’s upset from the way he rolls his shoulders and holds his head at a slight angle. When he passes through the crowd, people step back, out of his way, as if he were toxic.

It breaks my heart to see him treated so poorly.

“Enough!” Mother exclaims. Fear rolls through the crowd. I’ve never seen Mother act anything but refined or polished. And I’ve never heard of her losing her temper like this.

When Beck reaches my side, he juts out his arm as if to wrap it around me, but at the last minute, shoves his hand in his pocket. A chill runs through me.

“Good word, Mother! Are you going to let them behave like that? It’s disgraceful.” My brother’s words cut through the silence.

“Like what?” I ask, moving closer to Beck so that our elbows touch. Anger builds in my chest and pushes against my ribcage. The lights in the room flicker and a collection of hushed whispers whips through the room. “We’re just standing here. I’m sorry if you don’t like us.”

“Him, Lark. I don’t like him.”

My blood boils and I narrow my eyes. How dare he. I wiggle my fingers against my thigh and, without thinking, raise them to my lips, but stop when my hand is at chest level. My fingers are splayed wide, and I’m not sure what to do, so I grab my bow.

Callum jumps back, his eyes wide with fear. His reaction is so unexpected, I grin. “You don’t like Beck?” I say, my voice louder than I expected. Right now, I don’t care who hears me.

“Why? Because everyone else does?”

As the words leave my mouth, I realize how silly I sound. No one here seems to like him, or at the very least, they’re merely tolerating him. But why? What has he done besides not get along with Callum?

My smile fades and I clench my jaw. Did my brother spread lies about Beck? That must be it. No one has ever not liked Beck.

“You…you…” I stutter as my thoughts form in my head.

Beck reaches out and grabs my hand. My racing heartbeat slows. “It’s okay. I know he doesn’t like me.”

I nod and glance toward the door. “Can we leave?” I mutter.

Mother sighs and offers me her hand. “Walk with me, Love?” When she sees me look to Beck, she adds, “Will you be okay on your own?”

Before he can answer, Mother guides me toward the door. My stomach sinks and I instinctively turn my head back to where Beck stands, looking confused and lost. Like earlier, he’s surrounded by a void that no one wants to cross. Only this time, he looks torn between doing what she asks and following us. I’d rather not leave him, but I can’t stay in that room.

“Don’t worry about him, Love. He’ll be fine. I promise.” Mother pats my hand and leads me out of the ballroom and into a long hallway. “No one would dare hurt him.”

My eyes grow large. “Hurt him? Why would anyone want to hurt Beck?”

A soft laugh tumbles out of Mother. “They don’t. I simply meant…” She waves her hand dismissively. “Callum. I know how he’s treated the two of you in the past.”

We step into a pristine white hallway. The pale wooden floors bleed into the soft white walls which in turn become a series of arches soaring above us. The only color comes from an occasional swish of pale blue accenting a molding or curve.

At the end of the hallway, Mother gestures to an open doorway. “The Library,” she says.

In my school books, I’ve read how libraries were once filled with dusty tomes of paper. Dark places where people toiled for hours at small desks and under bad lighting. Mother’s library couldn’t be more different. The blank walls indicate the presence of dozens of wall screens and even though night has fallen, the entire room is swathed in warm light.

“Please, sit,” she says as she arranges herself in an armchair.

My heart hammers hard and