At first, it seems like a closet, but then I realize we’re in a stairwell of some sort. It’s in the center of the parking garage; I don’t recognize it. It must not be open to students, like a maintenance corridor or something.
“Come with me,” X whispers, dragging me up the stairs. We’re moving so quickly that I stumble a few times. I might’ve gone rolling down the steps if it weren’t for his ironclad grip on my arm, his fingers burning me through my blazer. I’ve only been touched by Maxx Wright a handful of times, and now I see why.
We’re explosive.
Self-hate pours through me, but I push past it, focusing on the immediacy of the situation.
Maxx leads me up to the roof of the parking garage, and we emerge into the sunlight, blinking against the brightness as he tears his ski mask over his head and stuffs it in his pocket. He drags me across the parking lot over to the door.
Mr. Volli is waiting.
We both pause there as he smiles at me.
“Well done, Ms. Banks,” he says, nodding his head at me. “Come with me.”
Maxx and I exchange a look, both of us panting and shaking from the adrenaline rush.
“Do we trust him?” he asks me, but I’m already shaking my head.
“Not at all.” But I take off after my sixth period teacher anyway. I’m assuming he has a plan to keep me from getting into trouble. That doesn’t seem to be his or the Slayer’s aim here.
Once inside, I realize that we’re in an empty classroom, one that takes up the entire top floor of the building. It’s massive, and there are telescopes all along the far walls.
“This used to be the astronomy classroom,” Mr. Volli explains, leading us over to an elevator on the far side of the room. “But Whitehall hasn’t offered that class in years.”
I step into the elevator, but Mr. Volli puts his arm out, blocking Maxx before he can climb in beside us.
“What are you doing?” I choke out, but the teacher simply shakes his head.
“You are your father’s only concern. Maxx Wright is unimportant and inconsequential.”
My eyes lift up to meet Maxx’s green ones. He’s scowling but he nods at me.
“Go. I’ll figure my own way out.”
“I’m not leaving you,” I tell him, but as soon as I try to exit the elevator, he steps forward and puts the end of the bat against my arm.
“You need an excuse for why you’re not in class right now. I can get out the way I came in and nobody will even think to look for me.” He meets my eyes with his beautiful green ones, and I see that he’s telling me the truth. He really and truly believes he can get out of here. “Trust me.” He puts the bat on his shoulder and takes a step back.
The elevator doors close, cutting off my view of his beautiful emerald eyes.
With a groan of pain, I lean back against the wall of the elevator, feeling every bruise, every scrape, every broken bone.
Mr. Volli takes the walking stick from my hand while my eyes are still closed.
“I’ve already let your first period teacher know that you’ve been with me this whole time.” I open my eyes just in time to see him glance back at me with a smile. “If anyone asks, you were seeking counseling; you’re distraught over your brother’s disappearance.”
“I hate you,” I breathe, and Mr. Volli laughs at me.
“You won’t, once you understand,” he says, with as much confidence in his voice as X.
Unlike X, however, there is no doubt in my mind who the true villain is here.
I head to my second period class like nothing at all happened this morning.
Nothing … when in reality, it was everything.
Fucking everything.
Chasm finds me right after class, grabbing my arm in the hallway and pulling me into the handicapped bathroom. He locks the door and turns the sink on before coming back over to stand in front of me.
The entire school is up in arms about the car situation, but the administration is doing their best to keep everyone quiet and calm. The police have been called in, but I’m not worried. Vandalism doesn’t often warrant crack teams of investigators. Besides, everyone who attends school here is loaded beyond all reason. Paying to repair the cars—or simply buying new ones—is not a hardship for any family whose child attends Whitehall Prep.
It’s an annoyance at worst. This exercise wasn’t to punish them: it was to test me.
To see how far and how easily I could be pushed, how quickly I might let anger get the best of me. Even though I succeeded in doing what I needed to for Parrish, I feel like in the grand scheme of things, I failed myself worst of all.
