“I’m fine, but you’re too skinny,” I say, sucking in a relieved breath as she lunges into me, hugs me tight, and proves she doesn’t think I’m a monster. “I’m going to buy you a big stack of pancakes as soon as we get checked into the hostel.”
“We should probably get cleaned up somewhere first,” she says, pulling back to look up at me, eyes still wide. “Your knuckles are split and I…I think I have blood in my mouth.”
I capture her face in my hands, running my thumb over her full bottom lip. “No, you don’t. You’re fine. No blood.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, bringing her fingers to her mouth and wiping too hard at the edges. “I swear, I taste blood. It’s like my mouth is full of it.”
“I can’t see anything, but that was dangerous, Sam.” I bend, scooping up our packs, ready to get away from the scene of our near mugging. “If anything like that ever happens again, just give the guy the money. It isn’t worth risking your life.”
“I know.” She crosses her arms at her chest as we make quick time down the street, toward the green hostel sign glowing at the end of the block. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was scared, and the next I was so angry I couldn’t think straight. I don’t even remember deciding to fight back. I just…did it.”
Her fingers drift to her lips. “I bit him so hard, Danny. I think I felt something…snap. A tendon or something?”
“It’s okay.” I study her face in the glow of the streetlights, not liking how pale she looks. “Don’t worry about him.”
“I’m not, I just…” She brushes her sleeve across her lips hard enough for the fabric of her fleece hoodie to rasp as it drags across her skin. “It’s nothing. I just need to get the taste out of my mouth. I’ll brush my teeth as soon as we get there. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”
I want to believe her, but my gut tells me nothing is fine and maybe the fates are still against us, after all.
Chapter Eight
Samantha
One Week Earlier
* * *
“We are all the fools of time and terror: Days
Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live,
Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.”
-Lord Byron
* * *
“So you think I can finish in one more semester?” I pluck at the pilling fabric on the upholstered chair in my advisor’s cramped office, where stacks of hardcover books on mathematical theory war for space with his wide collection of antique beer steins.
The first time I’d met with Mr. Thompson freshman year, I’d thought his office was depressing, but now I can appreciate the cozy safeness of his tiny room on the third floor of the business school building.
It might not be much, but it was all his, and it had a door he could close and lock tight when he wanted to shut out the world. It sounded like a slice of paradise and was all I wanted for the rest of my college career—a space of my own, and to spend as little time with the rest of the student body as possible.
“You could, but you’d have to carry twenty credits,” Mr. Thompson says, squinting at his computer screen before dipping his chin to make a note on the printouts in front of him. “And two of the classes you need aren’t available online until the spring semester.”
My fingers dig into the seat, my nails scratching along the rough fabric. “But if I spread my classes out over two semesters I can do everything online?”
“I think so,” he says. “Just let me check a couple of things to be sure.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, knee jogging as I wait for him to finish mapping out my educational plan for the next twelve months.
Behind his bowed, bald head, I have a sliver-sized view of the campus quad through his narrow window.
Outside, the rest of the student body is celebrating the end of finals with picnics, sunbathing, and an impromptu game of ultimate Frisbee. Everyone is smiling, laughing, and looking so relaxed and happy you’d think the semester had been nothing but smooth sailing and we hadn’t spent the last five months weathering the worst scandal Sterling University has ever known.
You would think no one had posted nightmarish videos on the campus website on New Year’s Eve, no one had started dangerous rumors, and no one had hung themselves from the ceiling in their dorm room two days before Spring Break.
You would think we were one big happy family, but I know better.
There are monsters on this campus, and I can’t get away from SU, or out of L.A. fast enough. As soon as I have my schedule in hand, I’m gone and I’m never coming back. I’ll finish the rest of my classes online from the safety of my own apartment somewhere far, far away. Somewhere where no one knows me, and nothing reminds me of all the mistakes I’ve made.
“All right, Miss Sammy, here is what I’ve got for you.” Mr. Thompson pushes two sheets of paper across the desk and proceeds to walk me through the classes I’ll need to complete my degree in business management consulting. “You’ll just have to talk to Professor Graham about the mid-term and final for Advanced Management Practicum. I know he prefers to have students come into the classroom to take those, but he’s a flexible guy. If you swing by his office to explain why you won’t be able to make it back to campus, I’m sure he’ll be happy to work with you.”
“Thank you so much.” My breath rushes out as a wave of relief spreads through my chest. “I really appreciate this Mr. Thompson.”
“Glad I could help.” His wide smile makes his graying moustache look bushier than usual. “I’m sorry to see you go, but it’s good to see people taking care of family. I’m sure your grandmother will appreciate the help.”
I nod, but keep my eyes on my schedule as I fold the small stack of papers and tuck them into my purse. I shake Mr. Thompson’s hand goodbye, and head out of the office, heart racing.
I’m almost home free, so close to making the escape I’ve been craving for months I can taste it on my tongue, sweet and bright like the lemon-flavored shave ice I couldn’t get enough of as a kid.
I know I should feel bad about lying to my advisor and creating a fake sick grandma who needs help running her chain of restaurants, but I don’t. The fib is going to buy my freedom, and it’s not the kind of lie that could lead to someone getting hurt. It’s a victimless falsehood, not like the other one. By the time I leave L.A. tonight, that other lie will have cost me everything that matters.
But that’s only right. A life for a life.
Only I’ll have a chance to start over, to rise from the ashes, instead of having what’s left of me scattered on a beach in Malibu.
There’s just one thing left to do before I can make my escape…
As I step out into the sun and start across the grass to the parking lot on the far side of the quad, I tug my phone from my purse, scrolling through my contacts until Danny’s name pops up.
Just looking at it is enough to make me feel like I’ve swallowed an egg whole.