Dead Girls Never Talk

Journey

I thoughtI was through with this part. I thought that the first time I stepped foot in St. Mary’s Boarding School my freshman year, it would be the last time I would ever have to face the uncertainties of being that girl, but here I was, once again, standing in the middle of the dining hall with a mask full of feigned confidence. Their eyes were following me, every single one of them. Voices were being shushed; whispers were being shared. The faculty was looking at me funny, too. My bare knees wobbled as I took a step forward, bypassing old groups of friends to get to the breakfast line. I grabbed a tray quickly, keeping my chin level as the blood drained from my face. Random food items were placed on my tray, and I was too blinded by my ability to stay focused on not running out of here to deny any of it. When I slowly turned around and realized that I had to find somewhere to sit, my stomach twisted.

The only good part about my day so far was the fact that the Rebels weren’t in the dining hall yet. But everyone else was, and I didn’t trust a single one of them.

“Journ!” Sloane waved at me from across the dining hall. She was sitting at our–my–old table, and my eyes dropped to the open seat in between her and Mercedes. I recognized every face that stared back at me. It was like there was a giant spotlight above my head, and everyone was waiting for me to make a move with their breath trapped behind their lips. I knew time wasn’t on my side. I shifted my gaze to the large, curved, dining-hall doors, expecting to see Cade walk through them any second now with a punch straight to my chest.

When I stared back at Sloane, my legs grew even more unsteady. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the frustrating amount of emotion on lockdown that was clogging my senses at seeing my old roommate again.

Sloane was such a good friend to me, and it didn’t feel fair to cut her out now that I was back, but I peered down at my covered arms, knowing there were long, pink scars running up and down each one, so instead of stepping toward her, I turned around.

I don’t trust you anymore, and I’m sorry.

My chin raised again, and my shoulders straightened. My plaid skirt, that felt all too familiar to me, swayed as I made my way to the far-left table that housed not a single person. St. Mary’s was usually a cluster of students sitting at each long, dining-hall table, the longest and middle table for the Rebels and most of the lacrosse team, along with some girls. Of course, Gemma was sitting there, and that was for obvious reasons.

I grew cold as I placed my tray down on the polished top. My fingers shook with nerves as I reached for my spoon, as if I were actually going to be able to eat, and that was when I felt a presence behind me. Sloane’s perfume grew stronger the longer she stood there, and my mouth dried out with each passing second.

“Journey?”

I tipped my head back, just slightly, and caught her shiny dark hair resting over her shoulders. Her tone was soft and hesitant, as if she were approaching a timid hare, and I couldn’t blame her for that.

“Hi, Sloane,” I said as she sat down beside me. She straddled the long bench, facing me head on, but I kept my gaze locked onto my spoon.

“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning in so her voice was more of a whisper than anything.

Am I okay? No, not really.

“Yes, I’m okay. How are you?”

She laughed, and that was when I turned my gaze over to her. The hazel color of her eyes was muddied with something I couldn’t pinpoint, and there was a crack right down the center of me that hurt. I was glued to my seat, completely unmoving.

The laugh disappeared from her lips quickly. “I know what you’re doing.” Her head shook, her glossy strands swaying softly back and forth. “It’s not going to work.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling the nerves duplicate in my stomach.

“You’re protecting yourself.”

I stayed silent because she was right, and it was no surprise that she could see right through me. She always was observant when she needed to be. When her hand landed on mine, I fought the urge to jerk away and allowed the fleeting thought of hugging my old best friend to vanish right from my head. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me. I would never judge you, Journ.”

The nerves in my stomach turned to hardened stone, weighing me down with each breath I held. I wanted to turn toward her and blurt out the truth right there in the dining hall, but after a few more seconds, Sloane stood up and shot me a soft smile. “I won’t give up on you even if you are pushing everyone away. I’m here for you.”

Tears stung the backs of my eyes as she slowly walked away, leaving me at my empty table with nothing but too many feelings surrounding me. If there was anyone left at this school to trust, it would be Sloane, but she was right, I was protecting myself. The only problem was that I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to be protecting myself from.

My hands were still shaking as I reached for my spoon again. My back was to everyone, just the way I wanted it, and I was so far away from the dining-hall doors I was surprised I heard them open. Round two, here we go. Even if I hadn’t heard the faint creak of the door, I would have known that he had walked in. A wave of awareness went through the dining hall like a tsunami. I felt his stare before I turned my head. He always could find me in a crowded room. My long, wavy hair brushed against the wooden table with the tip of my chin, and when we locked eyes, it was an arrow to my heart. I sucked in a breath even though all the air in my lungs had whooshed out.

Last night, I saw him from a distance. A lingering, dark shadow impeding the hallway like a vivid nightmare, probably sneaking into the room of some girl that would drop to her knees within seconds of him stepping foot inside, because he was a Rebel. When I saw him on the street at the orphanage, it was always a fleeting glance so he wouldn’t see me staring back at him. I wanted to pretend so badly that I didn’t notice him, or that his presence didn’t affect me, but it did in the worst way. I felt pain when I saw him. Tangible, ground-shattering pain. His honey eyes were what kept me from closing mine at the psychiatric hospital, but the comfort that I felt with Cade from before was no longer as I stood in a place that I once called home, not sure if it would ever feel that way again.

The whispers in the dining hall grew more frequent as Cade remained unmoving just barely inside the archway. I could almost read the things being hushed on the tips of my classmates' tongues.

Cade and I were never exclusive, and I was too afraid to ask for more. It wasn’t like I wanted the attention of being mixed up with someone like him—a ruler of the halls, a bad boy by default, a sinner amongst a school with many rules. Some knew that Cade and I had something going on, but it was never of confident certainty.

Now, though, I thought they may have guessed because he and I were at an impasse, and the longer we kept ahold of each other, the more my heart raced like a bull toward a red flag. His sandy hair was messier than ever, a little longer on top and cut short on the sides. His jaw was angled in stern determination, and the arches of his cheeks were slightly flushed. My stomach tightened at the sight because I’d seen his cheeks flushed on more than one occasion. Only now, they weren’t because of me. Is he with someone? Is that why he was late? I swallowed the frustration at the one thought that came through, knowing it was the last thing I should have been thinking about, especially given the fact that I wasn’t sure if he had something to do with the fact that I had almost died. Cade’s chin raised, and it looked even sharper. His eyes bounced back and forth between mine for a split second, pinning me right there as I leaned over the desolate dining-hall table, until he shifted his gaze down to my arms that were covered by my maroon uniform.

Disgust was the first thing that came to mind, but what I saw when he looked back up at me was a visceral guilt, which sent me into complete fight-or-flight mode. Fear shocked me to stand up straight, and my arms crossed as my fingers dug into the soft fabric of my uniform.

Was it a mistake to come back here? It was surely better than the alternative, but at least at the psych hospital, I knew who the foes were.

My nervous gaze moved from Cade, and it traveled around the dining hall as heat rained down over my head, seeing just about every single person staring at me. All except one. Bain. I hadn’t forgotten about him, not even for a single second. Bain was a mystery to me, but then again, everyone was a mystery to me now. He was cryptic, always watching me from afar but never getting too close. All I knew was that Bain and the Rebels didn’t get along and that he had an interest in me, but never one that he had acted on. Cade despised Bain, but looking back, I wondered if maybe Cade was just afraid I’d slip through his fingers and Bain would be the one to catch me.