The Half-Class by Kayvion Lewis

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Iwas completely numb as I dragged myself into the barn. It was finally open again, swollen with patrons. It had never been so alive, but I’d never felt so dead.

I meandered through the floor. The laughter and clinking mugs were nothing more than a muffled buzz at my ears. Someone might have said something to me, but I didn’t hear. I only kept walking. The only thing I could hear was Gilow and Jace’s voices, repeating every word they’d said. And the only sight I could see was Cass, lifeless and bloody on the castle steps.

Somehow, I made it into the hallway, forcing my feet forward at an even slower pace. I passed the cellar, and finally, the buzz of the night started to fade behind me. But just when I thought I’d be embraced by the cold silence I deserved, a smaller, weaker sound tickled my ears.

Someone weeping.

For whatever reason, I followed the sound and found myself at the storage closet’s door. The very same one that Cass and I had had our first real conversation in. Pushing the memory back, I gently turned the doorknob and crept inside the tiny room.

Balled in the corner, lit only in moonlight, I found Sammy. She brought her head up as I shut the door behind me, quickly wiping her face. “Hi,” she whimpered.

I crouched beside her. “Hi.” It was the silliest thing to say at the moment, but the first thing I could think of. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s noth—" Her own sob cut her off. She pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m perfectly fine,” she insisted through muffled cries.

“Of course, you are. And so am I.” I wrapped my arms around her, letting her crumple into my arms. We held each other as she moaned into me. Her tears seeped through my dress and wet my shoulder.

“Archie is sick,” she wailed. “He’s going to die. I know he is.” I held her tight as she gripped my arms. “He’s going to get even more ill, and then one day he’ll leave and never come back. One day he’ll be dead, and I won’t even know it.”

She screamed into my arms, and I found myself tearing up for her. But why was she in so much pain? It was only Mister Archie. He was just a patron. She wasn’t even his proper mistress.

“Shh.” I ran my hand over her short curls.

“His wife—" She wheezed. “He wants to spend more time with his wife. He wants her. She’s never going to give him back to me—" She collapsed into cries yet again.

Despite all the pain swelling in me. I hoped just by holding her, I could take away some of hers. Its intensity was horrifying, and I couldn’t imagine carrying it all myself. Even if I didn’t understand it.

My poor Sammy’s cries softened for a few short moments. I thought she’d run out of air to wail with. But as she sniffled, she said one obvious sentence that made it all make sense.

“I love him, but he’s hers.”

I shut my eyes as the true sadness and reality of her situation fell over me. She did love Mister Archie. They were in love with each other. At the end of the day, and at the end of the night, he would always go home to his wife. Sammy could be his, but he would never be hers.

The real reason Sammy never became his official mistress was because it hurt too much. This eventuality was too painful. It would hurt too much to give your life—to give your heart—to someone who would never truly give you theirs.

So, I wept, too. We cried together as I fully realized that none of the doors in front of me were ever going to lead to happiness.

I tucked Sammy in on one of the sofas in our apartment. She curled into it immediately and shut her eyes as I tossed a quilt from Auntie’s bed over her. Whether she fell asleep instantly or simply resigned herself to closing her eyes to the world, I didn’t know. I was only grateful that the tears, both of ours, had finally stopped, and we were able to embrace the very different pain of silence.

I trudged up the stairs. I made not a sound, as if I were a ghost. Maybe I was. I’d already died a thousand times today.

I pushed open Kat and I’s door, dragging my eyes up.

I halted.

Kat straddled Luke’s hips. Her fair face, her lips, pressed against his. Her hands on his shoulders, pinning him back into the sofa. His hand on her neck, and the other gripping the flair of her skirt. To make it all worse, the ruby ring Luke had first given me glinted on her finger.

No, I was very alive. The fury shooting through me verified it.

Luke pushed Kat off him. She said nothing as she sunk back into the cushions, her face completely blank.

“Evelyn…” Luke locked eyes with me.

I slammed the door shut. The door frame cracked around it. Someone yelled behind me, but I was already pummeling down the steps. By the time I heard the door swish open, I was darting across the front room floor.

“Evie!” Luke called.

I yanked open the apartment door. If I’d trekked through these corridors like a ghost before, then I was flying through them like an animal now. The world around me was a blur. I tore my way through the floor and was outside at Butter’s side before I could even comprehend it. Before I knew it, I’d mounted her, and we were riding into the night.