"Right. But I was the only one there. She can identify me. Then I'll either be forced to tell or ..." It'll be the convenience store all over again. "I don't have any proof."
"Who--"
"Don't ask me. I won't tell you."
"Why? Because you don't trust me?"
"Because it won't make a difference if you know," I say, using his words against him. "I'll figure something out. I just want Allie to be okay." I blink back the tears that have invaded my vision. "She didn't deserve what happened to her. She was trying to help me ..."
"Hey," Parker soothes, unbuckling his seatbelt and mine to pull me against his chest. I don't resist. "I want you to be okay. Please let me help you. I really do want to, and not for selfish reasons, I swear."
"You can't," I murmur, my face pressed against his shoulder.
"Tell me this and we can drop it, for now." Parker tilts my head up to look into his delving blue eyes. "I heard what Allie said at the hospital. Whoever he is, are you afraid he's going to hurt you?"
The concern in his eyes is authentic, and I feel like a bitch for believing he was that selfish. His question is too complicated for a simple truth. Because honestly, Vic might try to hurt me. He's capable of anything, I'm aware of that.
My eyes are unwavering; I want to be sure he can see my conviction. "I'm not afraid."
"I've decided to sing for you," he told Thaylina once they entered her home.
Thaylina squealed delightedly, wishing for nothing more.
"But first, you must do something for me." He unfastened his satin cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was heavy on her delicate frame.
"What is it you want?" Thaylina asked, more curious than frightened.
It's strange walking into the Great Hall and finding people sitting at the tables for dinner. I'd somehow gotten used to the stillness on campus the past couple of days. Although I can't say the same for its eeriness.
I find Lance seated with Ashton and Brendan at the table in the corner that I always gravitate to.
"How was The Grille?" Ashton asks when I sit.
"Messy," I answer, making her laugh. "What did you do today?"
"Went shopping ... online. I was granted internet privileges so I could try to find something to wear for the Ever After Ball."
"Right. The Ball," I say with a pained expression. "It feels weird saying that. Can't I just call it a dance?"
"If you want. But you might offend the social committee."
"I don't know who they are, so I won't be saying it to them. When is the first dance?"
"August nineteenth." Ashton scoops up a mound of chocolate mousse and then turns the spoon upside down to stick in her mouth, savoring it like a lollipop.
"Are you going as a princess?" Brendan taunts, leaning back in his chair with an ankle propped on his knee. He looks so smug; I want to kick the chair out from under him ju
st to watch him fall on his ass. I return his smartass remark with a flip of my finger. He shouldn't be surprised by my hostility every time he calls me by that nickname. I'm pretty sure he says it just to piss me off.
"Maybe you should go as the angry pixie," Lance chuckles. "You kinda already have that down."
"You might want to start searching soon," Ashton adds.
"We have two months," I gape, not comprehending the importance of finding the right costume for a stupid dance.
"It'll be here before you know it."
"Not eating?" Brendan asks with a smirk. I never know what he knows, or what he pretends he doesn't, for whatever twisted reason. It drives me crazy. I'm convinced he's determined to press every single button I have until I'm forced to murder him.