Gemma
I kept glancingat the art room door, wondering when I’d see his face. It had been a few days since everything seemed to come together only to fall apart again in the basement underneath St. Mary’s, and things between Isaiah and me were still just as unsteady. He went right back to keeping his distance from me. His eyes stayed to himself; they never wandered in my direction. His hands were almost always clutching a pencil or book during each tutoring session, as if the object itself was grounding him to the chair. He never left to follow Bain or to go back to the psychiatric hospital. Nothing. We just sat there, in that quiet library, festering in our unwanted thoughts, holding back things that neither of us wanted to say.
No one from the SMC had come to check on us again since Mr. Cunningham, and although Bain’s stare had locked onto me every time I stepped in the same room as him, he hadn't interfered either. Everything was at a standstill, and it put me on edge because there was always a calm before the storm.
It was often like that with Richard. We’d have weeks of normalcy before he would get antsy and say I was disrespectful or he’d make up some scenario in his head that wasn’t true, and then he’d punish me.
I was thankful I was able to skip last Monday’s phone call with him, though Headmaster Ellison still had me come to his office to chat. My shields were up, preparing to lie through my teeth to Richard as I pushed away the memory of him throwing my mother into that padded room. I needed a level head when it came to him so I could keep things civil. I didn’t want to tip him off, especially since my birthday was soon approaching, and things were about to change drastically. I was too stubborn to ask Isaiah when he’d be off probation and when he’d get me the necessary things I needed to run, but I knew it was soon.
If Richard suspected anything before I graduated from St. Mary’s, he’d jump the gun and rip me away even with the social worker breathing down his neck, which was what Headmaster Ellison wanted to talk to me about Monday evening. Apparently, Ann, the social worker, had called and wanted to check on me. I had a hunch the headmaster was hiding something, though, because he’d suspiciously brought my birthday up, and I knew that was likely something he and the social worker had discussed. Once I was technically eighteen, I would no longer be an interest to her. Therefore, no one would be watching out for me, or checking on me, or poking holes in Judge Stallard’s story full of lies. The social worker would no longer have an obligation, and Richard would make sure she left us alone.
Part of me was half glad that Headmaster Ellison had mentioned that the social worker had called. I was glad to know she was still alive. Though, I was sure there was a reason for that. After learning more about my dearest uncle, I had a feeling that I was wrong about a lot of things. I was pretty sure Richard was following her cues and allowing her to insert herself in our life for a reason. Just like there was a reason Bain hadn’t told Richard everything I’d done since coming to St. Mary’s.
Anxiety was creeping down my arms and into my fingertips as I swiped the last bit of charcoal on the canvas. I quickly took the thick paper down and rushed over to the supply closet, adding it to my hidden collection of drawings. This was one I didn’t want anyone to see—especially Isaiah.
Just as I opened the door to the closet, I saw a shadow outside of the art room. My heart skipped, and a tiny smile crept itself onto my face. Isaiah had mostly been ignoring me, which hurt more than I’d like to admit, especially after our minor lapse in judgment Saturday night, but each morning, I’d see him sit outside the art room door, waiting for me to gather my things and head to breakfast.
He was good at ignoring me and even better at acting like I didn’t matter, especially when there were eyes on us, but he still showed up and made sure that I was okay in here. It made me feel protected, even if I told him that his protection was unneeded the first day he’d shown up.
It was our new normal.
He watched from afar, hardly ever looking me in the eye, and I pretended that nothing mattered except my future outside of this school. Which was exactly how it should have been.
I straightened my skirt on my hips and grabbed my bag before looking up at the small clock above Mrs. Fitz’s desk. I halted with my hand on the strap, realizing that it wasn’t time to go to breakfast yet. I turned slowly to the door again, and my heart ricocheted off the walls of my chest. I swallowed the trepidation as I turned the knob.
I had a gut feeling.
Something instinctual, that likely came from all the years of fear and terror that someone was about to catch me doing something I shouldn't have, blossomed in my core, but it suddenly wilted when I saw Cade standing against the far wall with his phone in his hand.
“What are you doing here?” I breathed out in relief, stepping into the open hallway and shutting out the smell of acrylic paints and charcoal dust.
Cade kept his phone in his hand and barely spared me a glance. “Are you planning to go to art college, Gemma? I heard Mrs. Fitz ask you yesterday after class.”
The disappointment was there with the fleeting thought of college. But it was the last thing on my mind. “That’s not in the cards for me. But you already knew that.”
Cade pushed off the wall and slipped his phone in the pocket of his school blazer. His blond hair was pushed away from his face, so I could see the wariness on his handsome features. “How would I know that?”
I rolled my eyes, glancing down the dark hall. “Are you really going to stand there and act like Isaiah hasn’t told you that I’m leaving before I even graduate?”
Cade paused in front of me, but I didn’t look up at him. I wasn’t sure what Cade knew about me. Or the rest of Isaiah’s friends. Each Rebel was evasive. They didn’t wear their emotions on their sleeves, and they excelled at keeping their faces unreadable, replacing any truth or lie with an even glare, which was why I was having such a hard time knowing what Isaiah was thinking each night in that stuffy library as we pretended to study.
“Why don’t you play against me anymore?”
I finally peeked up at Cade’s warm, brown eyes. He blinked once, waiting for my answer. “You mean the game you downloaded for me a while back?”
He nodded, looking sincere, but who knew if that was what he was really feeling. I shrugged. “I don’t carry the phone around with me anymore.” It felt wrong to use a phone that Isaiah had given me. I brought it with me to tutoring, in case Isaiah needed to leave randomly and I needed a way to let him know that someone had come to check on us, but that was it. I didn’t want to hold the stupid thing in my hand, waiting for him to text me, only to be disappointed in the end.
Cade sighed agitatedly. “And what if it were Bain in this hallway instead of me? What if he cornered you and threatened you, or hell, what if Isaiah’s father showed up randomly and dragged you into some filthy corner inside this school to shove his dick inside you? What would you do, Gemma? Who would come save you?”
Anger rushed to my skin, and I felt the burn on my cheeks. “That seems a little over the top, Cade. Do you really think Isaiah’s father is going to come here at six in the morning, pull me out of the art room, and have his way with me?” Never mind about Bain. He wouldn’t touch me if he was involved with Richard. He had something else up his sleeve.
He laughed sarcastically. “I’m honestly concerned that you don’t seem fearful of that thought at all.”
I rocked on my heels. “Cade, you don’t know half of the things I’ve been through. Or what I’ve witnessed. I know men like Isaiah’s father. He wouldn’t step foot in this school because there are eyes here. Men like Isaiah’s father use other men to do his dirty work.” I huffed out a laugh. “Like Isaiah. And you and Brantley.”
I nearly choked on the sick feeling I had, remembering how Isaiah’s father had shoved me to my knees in front of the Rebels, telling them to have a go at me. He allowed them to chase me through the forest to prove something to Bain, and although that wasn’t what happened, or what was planned, he didn’t know that.