When the Shadows Fall by Elise Noble
CHAPTER 26 - SKY
THE VIBRATIONS FROM the slam of the last door reverberated down the hallway, but as I paused outside the room, wondering whether to go inside or just say “fuck it” and head to bed, the echoing crash was replaced by the notes of a piano. I couldn’t name the tune, but I’d heard it before. Something low and dark and angry, emotions tangled with the music as it rose and fell.
Was Asher playing? He’d never once mentioned any musical abilities.
I cracked the door open and peered through the gap. Sure enough, he was sitting side-on at a grand piano, eyes shut, lost in the song.
“Asher?”
His eyes flew open. “What are you doing here?”
“You walked out on me. I came to check you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Do me a favour and close the door on your way out.”
“You can close it yourself when we leave.”
Rune came back. “Hold on a second. Dan’s here, and she wants a word.”
Oh, brilliant. More people sticking their oar in. Exactly what I needed. Didn’t they realise I had enough on my plate already this evening?
“I caught the end of your discussion, and Asher’s blow-up. The transposition of letters, the phonetic errors… I think he might have dyslexia. One of Caleb’s friends does, and he makes the same kind of mistakes. Just be careful what you say to Asher.”
Dyslexia? I didn’t know a whole lot about it, but it might explain a few things. Asher barely took notes in class. He palmed that off on me or Vanessa, and while he generally listened to the teacher, he didn’t pay much attention to anything written on the board. I’d assumed he had a lazy streak, but could I have got that badly wrong?
“I’m sorry if I upset you.”
He stopped playing.
“I didn’t want for you to think that I was mocking you or anything. If you want to stay here, I can finish the poster and bring your pens and stuff back tomorrow.”
Asher muttered something under his breath that was probably a curse. Aimed at me or the situation?
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Chem. It’s me who should be apologising.”
“Forget it.”
He got up and walked towards me. Changed his mind and switched direction, heading towards the darkened window instead.
“Have you always had trouble with words?” I asked softly.
That stopped him in his tracks, and he raked a hand through his already messy hair.
“I’m just tired.”
All or nothing. Either I’d be right, or I’d end up calling him a liar. Brock Keaton aside, I wasn’t bad at reading people, so I decided to take a gamble. Asher’s defensiveness reminded me of Lenny when he’d been doing something he didn’t want me to find out about, usually illegal substances.
“I don’t think so.”
“Think what you like.”
“Do the Rosenbergs know?”
I almost said “your family” instead, but that wouldn’t have gone down well.
“Will you drop this bullshit?” Asher growled.
“No, because I’m a tenacious little bitch. I’ve been told it’s one of my worst qualities.”
He began pacing in jerky steps. “No, they don’t know, okay? Nobody fucking knows. Now will you leave me alone?”
I took a seat on the piano stool. When I pressed the keys, it sounded as if the thing was being run over by a dump truck.
“Where I come from, we don’t abandon our friends.”
And I guessed Asher had sort of become a friend. I didn’t mind hanging out with him, and we’d spent enough time together for me to know he was no Brock Keaton. To start with, I’d felt slightly edgy in his presence, but I’d been secure in the knowledge that I could kick his ass thanks to Rafael and his gruelling gym sessions. But fast-forward to today? Today I felt safe enough to be alone with Asher in this music room without my chest going tight.
“Where I come from, we don’t have friends.”
That… That was super sad. Even in London, I’d had Lenny and the parkour crowd.
“People don’t have friends in San Diego?”
“In the circles I ran in, you were only worth what you could do for people.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m my grandma’s pity project. Don’t turn me into yours too. I see the same look in your eyes.”
“That’s not pity.” A little guilt, maybe, because I’d been working out how I could use him. “I just want to pass chemistry and biology, and since we’re working together… My motives are purely selfish.” When he didn’t say anything, I pivoted to a different subject. “Are your parents still in San Diego?”
“Side by side in Mount Hope Cemetery.”
Oh. Shit.
“I’m so sorry. You must miss them.”
“In some ways.”
“Ask if he wants to talk about it,” Rune whispered. “That’s what my therapist does.”
Shit, I’d almost forgotten she was there. This was one hell of a violation of trust. I wanted to turn off my comms system, but I could hardly stick my finger in my ear without Asher thinking I was a right weirdo.
“Uh, do you want to talk about it?”
The silence stretched for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally, he spoke.
“Do you know, you’re the first person who’s ever asked me that.”
My heart ached for him. I was beginning to understand that Asher Martinez wasn’t the man I’d thought. Most of the time, he wore a better mask than Emmy.
“What’s the answer?”
“I’m not sure where I’d start,” he admitted. “I guess… I once told my mom I had trouble reading and writing, but she said that it didn’t matter, that I had an artist’s soul.”
Asher sat down next to me, nudging me over so we each had half of the stool. Then he began to play again, this time a depressingly beautiful melody that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. He might have had trouble writing, but the music spoke for him. His pain was all too obvious. When he finished the piece, he let out the longest sigh.
“Come on, Chem. Guess we should finish this poster. You’ll help with the words?”
I nodded, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak.
“Promise I won’t fly off the handle at you again. I just didn’t want you to think I was stupid.”
“So you’d rather I thought you were a prizewinning prick?”
“I didn’t say I’d thought it through.” His fingers brushed my arm, the lightest of touches. It felt as if he’d seared me with a Bunsen burner. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
“Hurry up and get back to work, Shortcut. I need some sleep tonight.”
“What the hell happened?”
Vanessa kicked the door to our room shut behind herself and leaned against it, her breath coming in pants. Blood ran down both of her knees, and when she raised a hand to swipe at her eyes, I saw grazes on her palm too.
“I fell.”
“Over Deandra’s hockey stick again?”
“This time it was her foot.”
Oh, that did it. Hadn’t the frog been enough? Or was Deandra stupid enough to believe it really had escaped from the lab as Asher suggested?
“She tripped you intentionally?” I asked, just to confirm.
“I walked around the corner, then someone pushed me from behind and I fell right over her.”
“Who pushed you?”
“I didn’t see.”
Three guesses. Literally three. Tiffany, Meaghan, or Carlie. Why couldn’t they act like the adults they were about to become? I might have worked for a group of assassins, but they were so much more civilised than these high school brats.
In my ear, Emmy sighed. “I know what you’re thinking, and I agree. Fucking playground bullies. Deal with the one you know and leave the other three. Separate her from the pack and go in hard, but don’t leave any marks.”
I nodded my agreement, then realised she couldn’t see me. Thankfully Vanessa didn’t notice either, probably because she was wiping her eyes with a blood-streaked tissue. Deandra could wait. First, I needed to take care of my roommate. My friend.
“We need to wash the grit out of these cuts and clean them.”
“I-I-I don’t have any antiseptic.”
“I do.”
Bradley had helped me to pack, so I practically had my own ambulance. Bathrooms in New Hall were shared—each floor had five individual toilet stalls and five individual showers—so I helped Vanessa along to the nearest shower and had her stand barefoot while I rinsed her hands and knees with the handheld sprayer. Ouch. Deandra had done a good job. The grazes criss-crossed Vanessa’s skin and the blood kept seeping out for a good ten minutes after I finished cleaning them, and with every drop that dripped into the damp shower tray and spread out to a pale pink, my anger grew until it ran hot in my veins. Vanessa winced when I finally dabbed antiseptic cream onto the broken skin.
“Any idea why Deandra did this?”
“The singing teacher said she wanted to put me forward for another contest. I should have stuck to art.”
“Never give up on your dreams, especially because of one spiteful little witch.”
“Easy for you to say. It’s not you that she hates.”
Give it a couple of hours. I’d soon change that.
“You should probably lie down for the rest of the evening. Any movement’s going to make your knees start bleeding again.”
I helped her back to our room, and she walked stiff-legged like a wooden doll. Even getting onto the bed was difficult for her. I had to haul her backwards by her armpits.
“Where are you going?” she asked when I went to leave.
“We’ve got a biology test on Saturday, and I promised Asher I’d study with him this evening. I’ll stop at the dining hall on the way back and sneak some food out for you. Any requests?”
“Chocolate. I need chocolate.”
“I’ll do my best.”
My best involved skulking around the school for almost an hour before I found the four Britneys holding court in an empty practice room in A-block. Tiffany and Meaghan were sitting on top of a grand piano, swinging their legs, while Deandra shared the stool with Carlie. A gaggle of adoring freshmen were clustered around them, hanging on their every word, and they’d brought drinks and snacks, which weren’t allowed in any of the classrooms. I was tempted to report them, but that would be letting those bitches off too easy.
Carve Deandra away from the pack, Emmy had said. How the hell did I do that? I didn’t have her phone number, so I couldn’t lure her out with a text, and if I set off the fire alarm, they’d all rush outside. I was puzzling over the conundrum when Deandra gave me the answer herself. She left the room, turning right into the hallway and heading for the nearest loo.
At Greenfields Comprehensive, a common punishment for lesser mortals was to have your head flushed down the toilet. How did I know? Because when I was twelve, it had happened to me after I bumped into a sixth-former and spilled her Fanta. My lips curved up in a smile as I fell into step behind Deandra. She was so self-absorbed that she didn’t even notice me following.
But she sure as hell noticed when I shoved her into the bathroom with one arm twisted up behind her back. I used a leg to sweep her feet out from underneath her, and she practically fell into the toilet bowl. Perfect. The glorious sound of her choking as I flushed was music to my ears.
“That was for Vanessa,” I hissed, just to make sure she got the message this time.
Then I was gone. No marks.
“Nice job,” Emmy said in my ear.
It was, wasn’t it? And since I’d kept Deandra’s back to me, she couldn’t even be certain who had done it, although I was sure she’d be able to make an educated guess.
Now, where was that chocolate?