Dead Silence
Page 6
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
And then he shoved his way through the door at the back of the stage, before they had the chance to reconsider and beg him to stay.
Because he wouldn’t give them a fourth chance.
CHAPTER 2
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL HAD THAT TYPICAL chaotic, first-day feel. Like the inmates were running the asylum.
Keeping her headphones on, Violet bobbed and weaved her way through the pandemonium as best she could. She watched—rather than listened—as girls checked out what other girls were wearing, as boys checked out the incoming freshman girls, and as everyone compared their class schedules with everyone else’s.
She managed to slip through the swarms of students relatively easily, avoiding fashion appraisals and obnoxious, overzealous greetings by kids who’d been going to school together since kindergarten but were now acting as if they hadn’t seen each other in decades.
It was only school, Violet thought, feeling more irritable than she should on the first day of her senior year. But she just didn’t get what all the fuss was about. She was probably just tired, she told herself. The pills might make her groggy, but without them the imprint made it nearly impossible to find deep sleep, leaving her with an ache in her head and a sting behind her eyes.
And, still, there was that tinkling echo that followed her everywhere.
Some of her irritability lifted when she saw Jay, waiting for her outside the door of her first-period class.
“Hey,” he said, shoving away from the wall to meet her in the hallway.
She tugged one of the earbuds from her ear and let it dangle free. “Hey yourself.” She smiled up at him, ignoring the headache—and the music-box chiming. “How’d you know what my first class was?”
The corner of his lip lifted. “I have my ways.”
Violet shook her head. “It was Mrs. Jeffries, wasn’t it?” she prompted, but didn’t wait for his response. She knew Jay could get whatever he wanted out of the ladies in the front office. “You know she has a crush on you, don’t you?”
“Gross, Vi. She’s like my grandma’s age.”
Violet leaned in closer and nudged him with her elbow. “Doesn’t stop her from flirting with you. And the sickest part is, I think you kinda like it. I think you encourage her so you can find out things like . . .” She pursed her lips, watching him through appraising eyes. “Things like my class schedule. Any of this ringing a bell?”
He threw his arm around her shoulder, and everything inside her unwound as she leaned into him, letting him share a burden he didn’t even realize was weighing on her.
She saw Chelsea then, shoving her way through a cluster of students who had gathered in the hallway, passing their schedules around to one another. One of the girls flashed Chelsea a dirty look as Chelsea elbowed past her, bumping the girl with her backpack. But Chelsea was oblivious to the girl’s glare, and Violet wondered if she’d even realized the other kids were standing there at all.
“Oh my god, Vi! I’ve been texting you all morning. Don’t you ever check your phone? What the eff?”
Despite her worries about being back in school, Violet couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s bulging eyes and breathless frustration. Some things never changed.
Violet reached into her pocket, digging for her phone, but Chelsea stopped her. “It’s too late now. I just wanna know why you didn’t tell me sooner,” Chelsea reprimanded, her eyes level with Violet’s as she gripped her arm. She leaned in close, ignoring the fact that Jay was right there. “How come you didn’t say anything about your hottie friend comin’ to White River.”
Violet frowned at her friend. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chels.” She pulled her arm away and glanced up to see if Jay knew what Chelsea was rambling on about. But he looked as perplexed as she was.
“Dude, whatever . . .” Chelsea’s voice trailed off as her gaze shifted past Violet, to the hallway beyond. Her mouth curved, a sly, knowing smile parting her lips. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t know he was transferring here?” she muttered, and Violet realized Chelsea had spotted whoever it was she’d been talking about. Violet turned to look behind her. “You know, the brother of that lady who works with your uncle. The one you never want to introduce me to.” She grinned knowingly. “I can totally see why, though. Yum.”
Violet was about to say that Chelsea was wrong, that she didn’t know anything about a new kid in school, when her breath caught in her throat. She saw, then, who Chelsea was talking about. The “hottie” in question stood out like a sore thumb in his worn blue jeans and black leather jacket, especially amid the sea of freshly purchased mall clothes, some of which probably still had the tags on them, tucked conveniently inside the collars and waistbands.
“Jesus,” Violet heard Jay breathe beside her, and she felt his arm stiffen around her neck as they watched Rafe approach. “You’re kidding me, right? What the hell is he doing here? Tell me you didn’t know about this.”
“I—I didn’t know about this,” Violet tried to say, but she was sure that no sound had actually escaped her lips, that her words had gotten stuck, lodged against the stone blocking her throat. Because that was when she recognized who Rafe was with, the flawless blonde girl walking beside him.
It was Gemma—looking as out of place as Rafe did, but in an entirely different way. Even from the front, Violet knew the other girl’s jeans were designer, and cost more than Violet’s entire wardrobe. The heels on her boots were at least five inches tall, yet she walked as if she were wearing flats. Effortlessly. Gracefully. Her trendy bag was too big to be a purse, and Violet’s throat tightened even more when she realized it was meant to carry books.
Because he wouldn’t give them a fourth chance.
CHAPTER 2
THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL HAD THAT TYPICAL chaotic, first-day feel. Like the inmates were running the asylum.
Keeping her headphones on, Violet bobbed and weaved her way through the pandemonium as best she could. She watched—rather than listened—as girls checked out what other girls were wearing, as boys checked out the incoming freshman girls, and as everyone compared their class schedules with everyone else’s.
She managed to slip through the swarms of students relatively easily, avoiding fashion appraisals and obnoxious, overzealous greetings by kids who’d been going to school together since kindergarten but were now acting as if they hadn’t seen each other in decades.
It was only school, Violet thought, feeling more irritable than she should on the first day of her senior year. But she just didn’t get what all the fuss was about. She was probably just tired, she told herself. The pills might make her groggy, but without them the imprint made it nearly impossible to find deep sleep, leaving her with an ache in her head and a sting behind her eyes.
And, still, there was that tinkling echo that followed her everywhere.
Some of her irritability lifted when she saw Jay, waiting for her outside the door of her first-period class.
“Hey,” he said, shoving away from the wall to meet her in the hallway.
She tugged one of the earbuds from her ear and let it dangle free. “Hey yourself.” She smiled up at him, ignoring the headache—and the music-box chiming. “How’d you know what my first class was?”
The corner of his lip lifted. “I have my ways.”
Violet shook her head. “It was Mrs. Jeffries, wasn’t it?” she prompted, but didn’t wait for his response. She knew Jay could get whatever he wanted out of the ladies in the front office. “You know she has a crush on you, don’t you?”
“Gross, Vi. She’s like my grandma’s age.”
Violet leaned in closer and nudged him with her elbow. “Doesn’t stop her from flirting with you. And the sickest part is, I think you kinda like it. I think you encourage her so you can find out things like . . .” She pursed her lips, watching him through appraising eyes. “Things like my class schedule. Any of this ringing a bell?”
He threw his arm around her shoulder, and everything inside her unwound as she leaned into him, letting him share a burden he didn’t even realize was weighing on her.
She saw Chelsea then, shoving her way through a cluster of students who had gathered in the hallway, passing their schedules around to one another. One of the girls flashed Chelsea a dirty look as Chelsea elbowed past her, bumping the girl with her backpack. But Chelsea was oblivious to the girl’s glare, and Violet wondered if she’d even realized the other kids were standing there at all.
“Oh my god, Vi! I’ve been texting you all morning. Don’t you ever check your phone? What the eff?”
Despite her worries about being back in school, Violet couldn’t help smiling at her friend’s bulging eyes and breathless frustration. Some things never changed.
Violet reached into her pocket, digging for her phone, but Chelsea stopped her. “It’s too late now. I just wanna know why you didn’t tell me sooner,” Chelsea reprimanded, her eyes level with Violet’s as she gripped her arm. She leaned in close, ignoring the fact that Jay was right there. “How come you didn’t say anything about your hottie friend comin’ to White River.”
Violet frowned at her friend. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chels.” She pulled her arm away and glanced up to see if Jay knew what Chelsea was rambling on about. But he looked as perplexed as she was.
“Dude, whatever . . .” Chelsea’s voice trailed off as her gaze shifted past Violet, to the hallway beyond. Her mouth curved, a sly, knowing smile parting her lips. “Are you trying to tell me you didn’t know he was transferring here?” she muttered, and Violet realized Chelsea had spotted whoever it was she’d been talking about. Violet turned to look behind her. “You know, the brother of that lady who works with your uncle. The one you never want to introduce me to.” She grinned knowingly. “I can totally see why, though. Yum.”
Violet was about to say that Chelsea was wrong, that she didn’t know anything about a new kid in school, when her breath caught in her throat. She saw, then, who Chelsea was talking about. The “hottie” in question stood out like a sore thumb in his worn blue jeans and black leather jacket, especially amid the sea of freshly purchased mall clothes, some of which probably still had the tags on them, tucked conveniently inside the collars and waistbands.
“Jesus,” Violet heard Jay breathe beside her, and she felt his arm stiffen around her neck as they watched Rafe approach. “You’re kidding me, right? What the hell is he doing here? Tell me you didn’t know about this.”
“I—I didn’t know about this,” Violet tried to say, but she was sure that no sound had actually escaped her lips, that her words had gotten stuck, lodged against the stone blocking her throat. Because that was when she recognized who Rafe was with, the flawless blonde girl walking beside him.
It was Gemma—looking as out of place as Rafe did, but in an entirely different way. Even from the front, Violet knew the other girl’s jeans were designer, and cost more than Violet’s entire wardrobe. The heels on her boots were at least five inches tall, yet she walked as if she were wearing flats. Effortlessly. Gracefully. Her trendy bag was too big to be a purse, and Violet’s throat tightened even more when she realized it was meant to carry books.
