"Don't read so much into every little thing, Reed. I was just talking," Noelle said in that patronizing tone that always made me feel like I was five. "You'll see Josh at dinner and everything will be fine."
I sighed. She was rushing and I knew I wasn't going to get anything else out of her. "I hope so."
"I have to go," Noelle said. "Later."
Then the line went dead.
My books sat on my desk, ready and waiting, but suddenly the very idea of getting up from my bed exhausted me. I hunkered down and decided to wait there until Lattimer sprang me for my next meal. Wait there and obsess.
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* * *
Noelle was right about one thing: I did see Josh at dinner. He walked in half an hour later than everyone else, with Mr. Cross, and he looked like roadkill. His skin was waxy, his face was drawn, and his curls were in desperate need of a hot-oil treatment.
Yes, that was the first thing I thought when I saw him. Apparently, pilfering things from Kiran's room was causing her worldview to rub off on me.
But in the next second, I felt an overwhelming, almost suffocating anger. That this was happening. That they were keeping us away from each other. That Josh was being put through hell. That nothing could just be normal.
I sat up straight and Josh glanced at me from the corner of his eye. In that one look, there was more anger and fear than I could even comprehend. He said a few words to Cross, they argued, and then Cross finally sighed and pressed his lips together in a disapproving manner. Then he nodded. Josh walked away from him so fast it was like he'd been pushed.
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"Hey," I said, standing up as he approached.
I felt extremely conspicuous. My face was red. I could feel it trying to burn itself free. All I wanted to do was hug him, but every pair of eyes in the room was on us. Like we were suddenly the black sheep of the student body.
"Hey."
Dean Marcus glared at us as Mr. Cross came over and leaned toward his ear. My heart pounded with anger and trepidation. I focused on the anger and stared back at the dean.
Just try me.
He looked away.
Josh slumped into the chair across from mine and put his head in his hands. I deflated from my own exertion and sat down.
"Are you all right?" I whispered.
"No. Not really," Josh said. He dropped his arm down on the tabl
e and his watch smacked against the surface, making me jump. Up close, his eyes looked bloodshot and his pupils were huge. "They've been on my ass all day. They just keep making me go over that night over and over and over again, like they're waiting for me to crack or something."
"They don't think you had anything to do with it, do they?" I asked.
My heart was beating behind my eyes. They couldn't think that. It wasn't possible. Josh was the nicest, kindest, most decent person in this pit of egotistical, overprivileged psychosis they called Easton. If Hauer and Sheridan thought he had anything to do with
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Thomas's death, they should seriously consider a change in profession, to something that required no intuition or insight into the human mind.
"No. I don't think so. I don't know." Josh pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. I'd never seen him like this. "It's like they think that since I didn't tell them Thomas was dealing, there must be something else I didn't tell them. They just keep pressing and pressing and pressing." He said the last word through his teeth, gnashing them together so hard I thought they would shatter. He put his hands down again and I reached for one, holding his fingers in mine.
"That doesn't make any sense. Everyone in the student body knew Thomas was dealing and no one told on him," I said. Perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but it was close to true. And I tend to exaggerate when I'm seething. "They should suspect every last one of us of lying now."
Josh blew out a sigh. "True. But they don't. They just suspect me."
I wanted to do something, but I had no idea what. I wanted to say something, but I had no clue what would help. I felt like I was being torn apart.