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April 26, 1990
Ted had a lot of information for us to go through this evening. He says he believes the Rising Sun could be born from the Weem line and that we needed to try to find someone young among his cousins that could possibly bear the child. Then our business would be to prepare that person as best we could. But I've been spending a lot of time with Ted, and I have an idea. It's crazy and weird, and I'm afraid to even bring it up to him, because I'm not sure what he'll think about it. But if we go the route that Ted's suggesting, it could take years to really get things rolling. And he says that we're running out of time, because the Rising Son is a key player in 2012.
Jason met us at the entrance to the dorm. He grabbed me by the arm and started to drag me away with him. "Come with me," he said.
I had my dress in a bag draped over my arm, so I shook it in front of his face. "I have a dress I need to put away," I told him.
He took the dress bag from me and shoved it at Palomino. "Take that upstairs for her," he said.
Mina took the dress and stared after us as Jason pulled me along. "Where are you guys going?" she asked.
"Don't worry about it!" Jason called over his shoulder. Once we were out of earshot, he said, "We've got a problem."
"Problem?" I said.
"I'll show you," he said.
We went to the assembly hall. It was open and there was a guard at the door. Inside, the drama club was on the stage up front, practicing the spring play.
"Someone's gonna see us," I hissed at Jason as he pulled me towards the basement door.
"No, they won't. They're not paying attention." He thrust open the door to the basement and pushed me inside first. I went down the steps. "Is Jude gone or something?" I asked.
But when I emerged in the basement, Jude was still in the place we'd left him. His head was slumped over, and he wasn't moving. I turned back to Jason. "What?" I asked.
Jason strode over to Jude and lifted his face up by the hair. Jude's eyes were open. They stared dully out at the dark basement. There was a large bloody wound in his forehead. A gunshot, most likely. Jason dropped Jude's head. It thudded back against Jude's body. "He's dead," Jason said.
"I see that," I said.
"You were the last person to see him," said Jason.
"After all that stuff last night about not killing him, then you just come in here after breakfast and shoot him?"
"I didn't do it!" I said. "You must have." Although it didn't make sense for Jason to accuse me of killing Jude if he'd actually done it. He wouldn't lie to me, would he?
"You wouldn't lie to me?" Jason said, echoing my thoughts.
"Of course not."
"I didn't do it either," said Jason.
I let this sink in. If neither Jason nor I had killed Jude, then someone else must have. Someone else knew about Jude.
"Are you sure?" said Jason. "Because you've been drinking a lot, and maybe you blacked out or something—"
"No, I haven't had a drink since before we found him," I said. I paused. "Maybe he did it to himself?"
"Then where's the gun?"
"This is not good," said Jason.
"No," I said. "It's not."
We didn't have any idea who would kill Jude. Could it be someone with a grudge against Jude already? Someone who'd followed him here? Someone who didn't care about us at all?
That seemed too good to be true. We were concerned that the body of Jude was less about him and more about us. Maybe it was a message, letting us know that someone knew who we were and where we were. Whoever that someone was, he wasn't afraid of putting bullets in people's heads.
Jason and I didn't know what to do. We couldn't leave Jude's body here. It would start . . . smelling at some point, and so we were going to have to try to get it out of here. We agreed to meet back at the old church after lights out that night. With trash bags.
At dinner that night, Jason seemed tense. He moved his food around on his plate with his fork, but didn't actually eat much of it. I squeezed his hand under the table, and tried to tell him with a look that everything was going to be okay. I didn't know if everything was going to be okay or not. But I wished someone would tell me that right now.
Palomino and Chance didn't notice that the two of us weren't our usual selves, due to the fact that Mina chattered constantly, relaying our adventures in Milan, including how awed I'd been with the Duomo, which Palomino found hysterically funny. Chance defended me, saying that he thought it was pretty amazing too.
Then Palomino launched into detailed descriptions of our dresses.
"Wait," said Chance, "aren't we guys not supposed to know about these dresses until prom?"
"You're thinking of bride's dresses," said Palomino. "Grooms aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding."
"Oh," said Chance.
"Azazel's dress is really pretty," said Palomino.
"So is yours," I said.
"Mine is slimming," said Palomino.
I rolled my eyes. "You're one of the slimmest people I know," I said. "You don't need to be slimmed."
Mina patted her still-flat stomach as if she was actually showing her pregnancy already.
"Is this seat taken?"
We all looked up to see who was talking to us. It was Fairie Weem. We exchanged a look. Why would Fairie Weem want to talk to us? No one said anything. Fairie seemed to take this as an invitation. She sat down.
"Hey," she said brightly.
No one said anything.
"So how are you guys?" she asked.
I looked around. "Where's the rest of them?" I said. "How does this turn into a big joke on us?"
Fairie sighed, chewing on a celery stick. I noticed she only had low calorie foods on her plate. Celery sticks. Lettuce. Cucumbers. Maybe she was anorexic. "Look, I know we gave you guys a hard time at first, but honestly, it was all in good fun."
"You said that I was on heroin and that I had AIDs," said Palomino. "How was that in good fun?"
"I'm sorry," said Fairie, sounding defensive. "Geez. But, you know, I never said anything like about you two. Amy and Jeremy." She beamed at us.
"Did George tell you something?" Jason asked.
Fairie looked completely confused. "What's George got to do with this? Okay, Faruza's only banging him because he's got a really big dick. She might dump him anyway, if you guys—" she gestured at Jason and me "—think he's stupid."
What the hell?
"Look," she said, "a bunch of us are having a get-together tonight. Outside by the rec center. Starts around nine. Don't worry about curfew. It's totally taken care of. It'd be really cool if you showed." She smiled and got up. "Oh, Amy," she said. "You should totally wear that little black tank top you were wearing the other day. It's super cute."
And she swept off.
I felt like I'd just been hit by a bus. "That was weird," I said.
"It is a cute tank top," said Palomino.
"They hate us, though," I said.
Palomino shrugged. "Well, I think we should go."
"Are you kidding?" I said. "They'll dump pig's blood or something on us."
Chance chuckled darkly. "I think they'll wait until the prom for that."
"Okay," said Jason. "We'll go."
I turned to look at him, astonished. "What?" I said. "But—" We have a body to dispose of tonight.
He gave me a look.
I shrugged. "Guess we're going."
"Cool," said Palomino. "Party." She grinned, then frowned. "Damn it. I can't drink!"
I made a sympathetic face. "I'm totally not wearing that tank top, though," I muttered.
Jason explained to me that he thought it would be easier for us to sneak out of the party to take care of Jude's body than it would be to sneak out of the dorm. Plus, being at the party meant that we could use the rich kids' curfew pass to our advantage. It made sense, but I was kind of frustrated with him because the clothes I wanted to wear to move a body were not the clothes I wanted to wear to a party. I tried to find a happy medium. Clothes that looked kind of nice but could get messed up, and I wouldn't care. This was really next to impossible, so I ended up in an outfit that I figured I was just going to have to sacrifice.
We showed up at the party around nine, even though Mina protested that it was totally uncool to be on time. Jason and I wanted to get there early enough that we could make an appearance and then sneak off without anyone realizing we weren’t still there. We figured this would be easy, since we weren’t very popular at the Sol Solis School. We didn’t know very many people, anyway. We were wrong.
When we got to the rec center, about ten of the richest kids in the school were already there. They had set up a snack on the picnic tables under the pavilion. The picnic tables were covered in crimson tablecloths and set with real silverware and plates. It looked very elegant and innocent. Faruza and Fairie were there already, fussing over flower arrangements. When they saw us, their identical faces lit up, and they rushed over.
"Hey!" said Faruza.
"Hi!" said Fairie. "You came! I wasn’t sure if you would."
Faruza shoved Fairie playfully. "I told you they’d come," she said. She linked arms with me and started to walk me over towards the picnic tables. I shot a terrified glance over my shoulder at Jason, but he was following, being led in a similar way by Fairie. Behind us, Chance and Mina trailed, looking confused.
I felt confused too. This had to be a set up of some kind. People who hated you didn’t suddenly just get nice for no reason.
" . . . so don’t worry," Faruza was saying to me.
"Huh?" I said, trying to concentrate on what she was saying.
"I was saying that all this stuff is just a show for the heads," she said. She meant the headmasters and mistresses of the school. "They usually show up to these things when we throw them and stay for about an hour or two. Once they leave, we break out the booze."
I nodded. "And you don’t get in trouble for throwing parties on campus?"
Fairie pulled close with Jason in tow. "Our parents donate a significant amount of money to the school," she said, smiling and winking.
So I guessed that was what it was like to be a really rich kid. And the Weem twins were very rich kids who went to a school full of rich kids. They were the richest of the rich.
Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, the heads of the school showed up. They got snacks and chatted with the students while sitting at the fancy picnic tables. Jason and I didn’t have a minute to ourselves. Faruza and Fairie yanked us around, introducing us to people who didn’t know us and asking our opinions about all kinds of ridiculous things. Faruza seemed very concerned over my thoughts on the pattern of the china which we were using. "Next time," she said, "you should totally help me pick it out or something, because I want to make sure you guys like it."
Why did she care if we liked it?
It got worse. "I told George not to come," Faruza told me as we munched on smoked salmon and crackers. "I know that you guys aren’t really very fond of him."
"Um, I really thought it was the other way around. I thought you guys didn’t like us."
"That’s just not true," said Faruza. "I mean, I think at first, I was caving to a lot of peer pressure and stuff, and I really want to apologize for that, because it seriously wasn’t cool. We think you and Jeremy are pretty much the most awesome thing that’s ever happened to this school."
"Yeah?" I said. "Since when?"
Faruza looked a little troubled for a second, as if she was thinking really hard. "Well," she said, "I want to say since always, but that doesn’t make sense, does it? Because I remember that I was, like, really mean to you. I remember that Fairie and I had the idea to invite you to the party last night. We couldn’t believe we’d left you out."
"To invite Jeremy and me," I said.
"But not Chance and Mina?"
"Oh, of course, it’s fine if your friends want to come. It’s one of the things I admire about you the most. That you’re just so nice to everyone, even people like that."
"Chance is my—" I stopped talking. I'd been about to tell her that Chance was my brother, but I couldn’t say that out loud.
"No, no!" said Faruza. "I know that you four are all really close. That's awesome. And they should stay, because it's awesome. Seriously." She smiled at me, as if she were afraid we all might just bolt.
Which was annoying, because that was exactly what Jason and I wanted to do.
I searched the crowd for Jason. I could see that he was with Fairie on the other side of the pavilion. He was holding a plate filled with hors d'oeuvres and stuffing them into his mouth as several people chattered at him. How were we going to get out of here?
The night wore on. The heads left. The alcohol came out. This wasn't like a keg party back in Bramford, however, or even a party on the beach in Bradenton. There were fancy cocktails served in crystal martini glasses with glass stirrers. More of the Weem twins' friends started to show up and swarm me. They told me how much they liked my outfit. They complimented my hairstyle (a ponytail—nothing fancy). They wanted to know what stylist was doing my hair and makeup for the prom.
"Um," I said, "I was going to do it myself."
"Wow," they all said, "what a cool idea."
"Yeah. It's so simple."
"Amy, you're an inspiration."
I felt like I was going to choke. I managed a half-smile. "I need to find my boyfriend," I said.
"Oh!" said Faruza. "We've been hogging you all night, haven't we? I'm so sorry! Let's go find Jeremy." She took my arm and dragged me over to where Jason was standing. He was surrounded by a group of girls and guys. As I approached, I could hear their conversation.
"So, where did you get that shirt?" one of the girls was asking.
"I don't know," said Jason, sounding just as weirded out as I felt.
"God," said one of the guys. "That's so cool. He doesn't even know where his clothes came from."
"Yeah, dude, that's awesome," said another.
Jason spotted me approaching. He reached out for my hand and pulled me close.
"Hi," I said.
"I am so happy to see you," he whispered in my ear.
I nodded. "Me too," I mouthed. Then, more loudly. "Oh God, Jeremy, I left something in my dorm room. Can you come with me to get it?"
"Of course," he said. "Good idea," he whispered. To the crowd of onlookers who had gathered around us, "Excuse us."
The crowd parted to let us out. Jason clasped my hand, and we walked away as fast as we could. It was all I could do not to run.
The rec center was on the opposite side of campus than the assembly hall. We started walking back in that direction. Within several minutes, we were out of sight of the rec center.
"Okay," said Jason, "that was weird."
"Yeah," I said. "What was that?"
"If it's a prank, they're really putting a lot of effort into it."
They were. And they all seemed so genuine. Why would they waste so much time being nice to us if they just wanted to make fun of us? "Do you think maybe it's not a prank?" I asked.
Jason shot a glance at me. "You mean like they all suddenly think we're really awesome?"
I swallowed. "Why would they think that?"
Jason's jaw twitched. "I think George told them something. When he ran away from me, it seemed like he knew something, didn't he? Like he knew who we were."
"But Faruza said she told George not to come tonight," I said. "And besides, would that make them like us?"
"It might make them afraid of us," said Jason.
Maybe. I considered. "So, then, wouldn't they run from us instead of being all sweet and nice?"
Jason shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know. Maybe it's a prank."
"Maybe," I said. It was strange that thinking it was a prank was a comforting thought. "But if it's a prank, then we just left Chance and Palomino to deal with the brunt of it."
"We'll go back," Jason said.
"But we'll be . . . messy," I said, shuddering a little. I didn't want to think about what we were getting ready to do. Not one bit.
Jason had left the garbage bags inside the old church, at the top of the basement steps. It took a little doing to get the door unlocked. Jason had to pick it. We went in through the side like always, while I stood watch and looked for guards. No one seemed to be out tonight. At least not near the old church. I could see the back of the guards who stood at the entrance to the library. Apparently, those guys never left.
The garbage bags were still there. But Jude's body wasn't.
There wasn't a trace of him. No clothes, no blood, no marks from dragging a body on the floor. Nothing.
Jason and I stood inside the small enclave of the basement, the light bulb swinging back and forth crazily, making the shadows dance on the wall, and we didn't move.
"This isn't good," I finally whispered.
"No," said Jason. "It's not."
Maybe Jude hadn't really been dead, I wondered. But Jason assured me that he had been. He hadn't had a pulse. He'd been fatally wounded. Jude had definitely been dead.
Jude had been killed. We didn't know who had done that. Whoever had done it had known where Jude was, and no one except us knew where Jude was. Then someone had come in and moved his body. It was probably the same someone who had killed him, but we couldn't even be sure of that. It was unnerving. We were worried. Was it the Sons? Had they killed Jude to silence him? Was it Edgar Weem? Had he had Jude killed to silence him?
Who could have done it and why?
And part of me, no matter how much I told myself it was crazy, couldn't shake the worry that Jason had killed Jude and moved the body and that he was just lying to me about it, because he knew I didn't want him to kill Jude.
I didn't want to go back to the party, but Jason said we had to or it might look suspicious. The only bright side the evening was that my clothes hadn't actually been ruined. We walked back across campus to the rec center, where the pavilion was lit up with Christmas lights and filled with people laughing and drinking. Almost immediately, we were jumped by the Weem twins and their entourage, but Jason and I stayed close this time.
I wanted to find Chance and Palomino, so we wound through the bodies looking for them for nearly a half hour. Finally, we found them on the fringes of everything. Chance was drinking an expensive bottled beer, and Mina was drinking coke. They were sitting alone, just talking to each other.
Jason and I sat down with them. I motioned the crowd who had followed us to go away. Reluctantly, they did.
"You guys okay?" I asked.
Chance and Mina both smiled at us brightly.
"We're great," said Chance.
"Yeah," said Mina. "We're having an awesome time."
"Sorry that we got sidetracked by all those people," said Jason.
"No problem," said Chance. "I can see why they'd want to talk to you."
"We get to talk to you guys all the time," said Mina. "It would be selfish of us to hog you."
"Um . . ." I said, "well, we hang out with you guys because we like you, you know. We want to hang out with you."
Mina beamed. "That's sweet. It's so cool that you said that."
"Yeah," said Chance. "But the two of you have people to see. Don't worry about it, okay?"
Jason and I exchanged a look over their heads. Was it just me, or was everyone suddenly starting to act really, really weird?
The week continued with increasing weirdness. On Monday, Professor Moretti read my paper on Things Fall Apart to the entire class, praising it as the most insightful and comprehensive treatment of the novel he'd ever read. When he was done, the entire class applauded.
At lunch that day, Jason and I were barraged with people who wanted to sit with us. Fifteen people gushed over my outfit. The rest of the week continued the trend. Jason and I were excused from two tests because the teachers thought we'd "already proven our capabilities adequately." The head of the school invited us to a private lunch with him on Wednesday, where he told us how happy he was that we'd chosen his school and how the Sol Solis family was honored to count us as part of their ranks. Confused and a little fed up with this treatment, I'd asked him why. Did everyone know who we were, suddenly? Was that why everyone was behaving differently towards us?
The head had replied that we were special. He knew that we weren't just normal students. And then he'd winked.
Jason had looked positively sick when he saw the wink. He'd leaned forward across the table we shared with the head and asked, "How did you find out who we are?'
The head had looked confused. "I think I always knew," he said. "But I had this idea to have you for a special lunch on Friday of last week, I think. It was late."
Friday again. Faruza had mentioned that same night to me.
It wasn’t conclusive evidence that the head knew Jason was the Rising Sun. He never used those words. But we were definitely getting special treatment. And we were getting it from everyone.
Thursday we were back to our crowded lunch table. Faruza and Fairie flanked us on either side, both with plates full of salads.
As Faruza shook red wine vinegar on her salad, she looked at me. I had a plate with pasta salad and a hamburger. "Wow," said Faruza. "Amy, how do you stay so thin eating all of that?"
I looked down at myself. "I'm not that thin," I said. I was kind of average looking. Not really skinny, but not fat either. Faruza and Fairie were both thin enough to be models or Hollywood actresses.
Faruza speared a piece of lettuce with her fork. "You're totally thin," she said. "I really wish I looked like you."
"Aren't you going to put some oil on that salad?" I said. "I thought it was supposed to be oil and vinegar, not just vinegar."
"Oil is fat," spoke up Fairie.
I looked around Jason at Fairie, who looked so earnest. Then I looked back at Faruza, also very serious. If being that thin meant I couldn't have olive oil, I didn't think I cared that much. Also, it was pretty clear that Faruza and Fairie had kind of unhealthy eating habits. Maybe I could use my newfound (and totally weird) celebrity for some kind of good. "If you want to look like me, Faruza," I said, "you should eat a hamburger."
"White bread buns?!" exclaimed Fairie.
"Red meat? Saturated fat?!" said Faruza.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Hamburgers are good," said Faruza.
"I'll go get some," said Fairie, running off to the lunch line.
Jason laughed quietly to himself. I grinned at him.
When Faruza took a bite of her hamburger, she made a small moaning sound. A satisfied sound. It was thanks enough.
But not for Faruza, apparently. "Gosh, thank you so much for telling me to eat this," she said.
"No problem," I said.
"No, seriously," said Fairie, "you two seem to give so much, and you never get anything back."
Jason arched an eyebrow. "What exactly do we give?"
"So, so much," said Faruza. "Don't be modest."
This whole situation was really, really weird, but it wasn't exactly all bad. I mean, it was kind of nice having people complimenting us all the time.
"There's gotta be something we could do for you," said Fairie.
"We're fine," I said. "Lots of people have been doing lots of nice things for us lately."
Faruza sighed at Fairie. "This is why they're so great," she said. "They recognize the smallest kindnesses."
The two of them looked at us with huge, admiring eyes.
"Please," said Jason. "It's not that big of a deal."
"What is it you guys want?" asked Faruza. "I mean, what is it you really want?"
I want the Sons to stop chasing us, I thought. I want Jason and me to be normal kids. I want all of this to be over.
"We have been trying to get into the library," said Jason. "But we haven't had any luck. Can't get around the guards."
"You guys?" said Fairie. "I bet the guards would just let you in if you asked."
"I bet they would," said Faruza. "Let's try this evening. After dinner? You want to?"
I looked at Jason. It couldn't be that easy, could it?
It was a warm spring evening, still light as Jason, the Weem twins, and I crossed the lawn towards the library. The library loomed ahead of us in its somber glory. It was an old building, with ornate stone architecture decorating its corners. In front, as always, were the guards. They glared out at us. Overall, the library looked just as impenetrable as it always did. I didn't think this was going to work. But the Weem twins were sure that no one could deny us anything we wanted. And for the past week, it had seemed to be true. Even at dinner earlier, one of the cooks had asked Jason and me what we thought about the food. She'd offered to prepare something especially for us if we didn't like what was offered. We'd assured her that everything was fine.
What was going on? I didn't know. It was creepy, but part of me didn't exactly want it to stop. Was that wrong? I didn't know that either.
As we approached, one of the guards called out to us. "What are you kids doing here?"
Great. See, I'd known this wasn't going to work. We should just go back to our dorms. Really.
But Fairie just waved and scampered up to him. "We want to go into the library," she said.
The guard looked us over. He gestured to Jason and me. "You two want to go in?" he asked.
Jason nodded. "Yeah, for weeks now."
"Why haven't you come by?" asked the guard, going to the door and unlocking it with one of his keys.
"You're letting us in?" I asked, shocked.
"Well, we don't just let anyone in," said the guard, "but you two and your friends, well, that's no problem."
Okay, if things hadn't been officially weird before, they most definitely were now. The guard opened the door, a large, heavy wooden thing, and we walked inside.
Inside the library, it was dark. There were a few hanging chandeliers, but they did little to shed light in the huge room. The library was exactly that—one enormous room. It was at least three stories high, and every wall was lined with books, all the way to the ceiling. In the center of the huge room were rows and rows of bookshelves, each groaning under the weight of their tomes. The ceiling was covered in an intricate mural painting of mythological creatures. Half-bulls, half-men, chimeras, Poseidon with his trident, mermaids, men carrying flaming swords, dead dragons. In certain places, the plaster was chipped and there were holes in the painting. We all stood inside the entrance for several minutes, simply taking the place in.
"Amy, Jeremy," said a friendly voice.
It was Professor Moretti. "Or," he continued, "should I say Azazel and Jason?"
The Weem sisters both made identically confused faces. "Who?" they asked.
Professor Moretti chuckled. "Don't worry about it, girls," he said. He nodded at a few computers along a desk near the entrance. They looked completely out of place in the ancient room. "You two want to check some email or something while I talk to them?'
"Sure," said Faruza, bouncing over to the computers with her sister in tow.
"You know who we are," said Jason to Moretti.
"The Rising Sun and his consort," said Moretti. "It's an honor." And he bowed to us. Deeply.
I took a step backwards, grabbing Jason's hand. Jason squeezed my fingers.
"Um," said Jason, "you don't have to do that. The bowing thing."
Moretti straightened, raising his eyebrows. "It's simply a token of respect," he said. "Respect which you both deserve."
He was our teacher. He wasn't supposed to bow to us. He was an authority figure.
"So," said Moretti. "What brings you two to the library?"
"We're looking for information about the Rising Sun," Jason said.
I shot Jason a sharp look. Should we be admitting this? We really should have talked strategy before getting into the library. But I hadn't really believed that we'd actually be able to get in. So it hadn't occurred to me to think about what we'd do after.
"Actually," said Jason, "we kind of think the whole thing's a crock."
Moretti raised his eyebrows even higher. "A crock?"
"Yeah," said Jason. "I don't want to be the Chosen One or whatever, all right? People are always chasing us and trying to kill us, so we have to keep running. It sucks. We thought if we could find some information in this library that proves that I'm not the Rising Sun, then maybe everyone would just leave us alone."
"You can't be serious," said Moretti. "There have been signs. You two experienced them. You can't honestly think that it isn't true."
Jason and I looked at each other. We shrugged.
Moretti sighed. "This is going to be harder than I thought," he muttered. "Come with me."
He started walking back through the stacks of books, without looking back to see if we were following.
"Guess we go after him," Jason said, leading me forward.
In the back of the room, there was a staircase. It was twisting and narrow, built entirely of stone. We followed Moretti down into the bowels of the building. As we descended, the air got mustier. The stone walls on either side of the staircase went from orderly rows of perfectly cut pieces to rougher stones, fit together at crazy angles. There were electric lights fastened to the walls, but their light seemed to get dimmer and dimmer as we made our way down the stairs.
Eventually we emerged into a room about the size of a living room. The ceiling was low, and everything—walls, ceilings, and floor—were all composed of interlocking stones. The room was empty except for a few desks, which had laptop computers on them (of all things). Moretti held up a hand and told us to wait there. He disappeared through a small dark doorway on the other side of the room, and we could hear him calling out something in Italian.
Suddenly, a group of men came rushing through the doorway. They were all dressed entirely in black, many of them carrying guns.
I didn't wait. I didn't think. I just took off back up the stairway as fast as I could. We'd seen them. The guy outside the church. And the figure I'd seen leaving the library. How could we have been so trusting?
As my feet pounded against stone, I thought about how many times Jason and I had trusted a teacher. They'd always betrayed us. Why had I thought this would be any different?
Copyright (c) 2009 Valerie Chambers