Broken Pretty Things by Amber Faye
Chapter 8
I feel a little better,even a few shades closer to human again, by lunch. I even decide to brave the cafeteria when I notice how hungry I am.
I look around for the sort-of nice girl from the bathroom, who I only know as ‘Zero’, but I don’t see her. I feel hypervigilant, my heart skittering like a prey animal, always searching for my former friends in any crowd. But it’s almost impossible to sneak surreptitious glances, because the chatter dies down to almost nothing once I have my tray and I head towards the line.
Every pair of eyes in here is on me. Some of them are staring at the hints of fake gore still covering my skin and hair, sure, but there are plenty of people in this room that think everything is true. That I drove the kindest boy in the world to suicide. That I didn’t even care.
“It’s not true,” I find myself actually saying out loud. “For the love of God, none of it is true.” I set down my tray with a crash and power walk back to the door. Kids whistle and cheer.
“Yeah, Killer Bitch!”
It’s not the first rumor that came for me in this school, but it is the worst.
Because even my favorite people didn’t believe me this time.
Someone steps out from the crowd to stop me from getting through the doors, and I do a double take when I realize it isn’t Gunnar. His younger brother Ransom has done a hell of a lot of growing up in the last six months. He was a scrawny pale thing, his raven-dark hair the only thing like his tall, amber-eyed brother. Now Ransom is tall and filled in, with sharp cheekbones and intense eyes, just like Gunnar. In a rush, I remember the same thing happened to Gunnar the summer before his junior year, too, and I almost smile.
“My brother wants to talk to you,” he says, his voice too low for anyone around to hear him.
“Better not let JJ hear you’re talking to Killer, dude,” some kid says, nudging Ransom’s side. The younger Rayne nods.
“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Listen, just meet him after school by the old baseball field.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Seriously, Andie.”
I nod at him, feeling a little weird about taking orders from him. He used to be twelve. He’d copy everything Gunnar did while pretending to hate him. “OK,” I say. I’m not sure yet if I’m telling the truth. What are the chances Gunnar really wants an innocent heart to heart after the day I’ve had? But if I don’t go, maybe things will get worse for me. I have to come back tomorrow, after all. And the day after that.
I let out a heavy breath and shove my way through the cafeteria double doors. There must be somewhere in this school I can find some quiet.