“No.” I turn back to him and shake my head violently. “I already had one ‘fall’ this past month.” I shudder, my fingers curled around the edges of the sink. “I don’t want to have to explain this, and I don’t want Tess to have more reason to worry.”
“Dakota,” Parrish starts, but then he grits his teeth because he knows I’m right. He grabs a wad of paper towels from the dispenser, runs some warm water on them after removing the blazer from the other sink, and then goes about carefully and meticulously cleaning the blood off of me. His teeth are gritted as he goes about it, fighting back that surge of tempestuous emotion in him. “You might need stitches.”
“I’ll manage,” I whisper, and he lifts his eyes up to look at me, studying me, searching my face for trauma. “But we need a first aid kit and a new uniform.”
“You’re not going back to class after this,” he tells me, and I grab him by the face.
“Don’t start ordering me around the way the other two do,” I reply, sliding my fingers into his hair and dragging him closer for a kiss. He presses his mouth to me softly, almost tentatively, and then curses.
“Let me call Chasm,” he says, and my heart drops.
“Chas was supposed to pick me up after class; he always does. He comes and gets me and walks me from room to room …” I trail off as Parrish whips his phone out of his pocket, checks for messages, and then dials his friend’s number. When there’s no answer, he shoots a text off, and then makes another phone call. To Maxx, I’m guessing.
“Fuck,” he curses when again, there’s no response. Parrish looks me over and then grabs his blazer again, settling it over my shoulders. He takes me by my upper arms and leans down to look into my eyes. “I’m going to go find something to clean your wounds up with, and I’ll stop at the merch shop for clothes. Will you be okay here for a minute by yourself?”
I nod and he curses again.
“I hate leaving you here,” he adds, but I square my shoulders and sit up straight, as if I’m attempting to prove to him that I’ve got this.
“Go. Bring me clothes and then we can find Chasm; I’m worried about him.”
Parrish lingers for a moment but then nods, pausing with his hand on the doorknob.
“Lock this as soon as I leave and don’t open it unless you hear my voice, okay?”
“I can do that,” I agree, and he helps me find my feet when I slide off the edge of the sink, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders before taking off like a bat outta hell. I make sure the dead bolt slams shut behind him, and then I curl forward, putting my forehead against the inside of the door.
I can’t believe that just happened, I think, trying not to be sick. Now, at least, I understand what the utility knives were for.
“Goddamn it.” I shove back from the door and storm over to my book bag, yanking out my Maxine-phone to see if there are any messages from Chasm. Nothing. That’s when I start to panic, pacing back and forth across the tile floor as I place a call to his phone, wait, hang up, try again.
My anxiety rachets up, and I actually start to wonder if I’m having a PTSD reaction from when Parrish went missing. This is triggering as fuck, and I have no idea what to do about it. The minutes tick past, and lunch is more than half over before I hear a knock on the bathroom door.
“Dakota.”
It’s Parrish. I unlock the door and fling it open, eyes widening when I see Chasm just behind Parrish, his face bloodied up and his arm around Maxx’s shoulders.
“Found something for you,” Parrish murmurs, holding the door aside so that Chas can limp in. Maxx helps him while Parrish waits for them to pass, slams the door shut, and activates the lock.
“What happened to you?” I whisper as Chas’ eyes widen at the sight of me, naked and bloody under Parrish’s blazer.
“What happened to you?!” he chokes out, stumbling from Maxx’s grip to brush his thumb across one of the bloody wounds on the back of my hand. It’s shallow—they all are—but that doesn’t mean it isn’t aching and burning like a bitch. “Why are you naked?”
“Veronica and her friends cut her clothes off while livestreaming the entire mess.” Parrish sets a first aid kit down on the sink as Maxx’s green eyes flare with undisguised rage.
“You’re kidding me?” he asks as Parrish turns on the warm water and offers up a wad of paper towels so Chas can clean himself off. I snatch it from his hand and step forward, attempting to dab at Chas’ bloody lip. He grabs my wrist before I can even get started, frowning at me.
