by Lindsey Iler
“Do you know where Byron is? I haven’t talked to him all day.” She moves to the stairs, inspecting them like she’s expecting to see him hiding there.
“Byron isn’t here this weekend, Reed. What’s going on with you?” I grab her wrist and draw her to me. With quick movements, I set her on the kitchen island, me between her legs. As she falls into another daze, I snap my fingers in front of her face.
“Oh, sorry. I just have a lot going on,” Reed explains her odd behavior.
“Is it finals? You can’t let it stress you out this much.”
“Yeah”— she blinks rapidly— “you’re right. I just can’t get out of my own head.” She pushes on my chest and slinks off the counter. “I’m going to go study.”
“Want me to come?” I follow her to the foyer.
“No, I’m good.” She pops up on her tiptoes, kissing me quickly. “But hold onto this for me, will you?” She untangles the key necklace from around her neck and places it in my hand.
“What is this?” I ask, knowing I’ve seen her wearing it for the past few months, but never cared to ask its importance to her. She wears an array of chains, but the only constant one is the heart and key pendant with an R engraved on the back.
“The key to my freedom.” She pushes a smile through the worry she tries so desperately to hide. “Just promise to hold onto it for me, okay? It’s the most important thing I own that’s mine.”
Reed turns away, leaving me wondering what plagues her head.
“Where’s the necklace I gave you?” I ask.
“The old key?” She ghosts her hand where it used to hang. “In my dorm. I put it in my jewelry box after Breaker made fun of me for wearing it.”
I run past her, throwing instructions over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Wait to talk to Dixon. I want to be here when you do.”
“Where are you going?” she yells after me.
I don’t stop to answer. My body is fueled by adrenaline and anger, making my hands shake on the steering wheel. If what I think is true, then the odds of us seeing Reed again is rare. At the bottom of the hill, I sit at the stop sign, taking deep breaths. The horror of finding out Reed has decided to run away again is not something I’m ready to explain to Palmer.
As I drive up to Palmer’s dorm, I kill my headlights and turn the keys in the ignition. Checking my surroundings, I find it utterly quiet, not a single person in sight.
Twigs and sticks breaking in the distance put me more on edge. Am I being watched? My paranoia means I have to enter the code twice. The electronic lock clicks, and I open the door, ducking inside.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I slide to a stop in front of Palmer’s door. Pictures of her and Delaney are pinned to the cork board with little hearts painted on the dry erase portion.
“Fancy running into you here,” someone says behind me. I spin to see Reagan leaning against her doorframe. “We need to stop running into each other like this.”
“You ran off last night, but Dixon didn’t say anything after he brought you home.”
“I didn’t tell him anything worth repeating.” She kicks her bare foot at the mat in front of her door.
My eyes trace the bruises that wind around her neck. The cut on her lip and below her cheek look painful. Who did this to her? As if she can hear my question, she runs her fingers softly over the red flesh.
“I met a guy a while—”
“I don’t need an explanation.”
“There’s a beauty in being invisible to most people. When someone is looking for you, they tend to overlook you,” she says, ominously.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” I admit.
“The night on the roof,” she says, knowingly, watching every uncomfortable move I make. “Don’t try to deny it. I saw it.”
“I don’t know what you saw.”
“You four chasing Palmer through campus. You trying to reach her, but not getting there in time. Byron cutting her like a piece of turkey on Thanksgiving.”
“I get it.” I hold up my hand to silence her. “What do you want? Money?”
“No, money means nothing to me.”
“Then what? A confession? For us to turn ourselves in?”
“No, I want to bring the mother fucker down who chased her into the woods first.”
“You saw her before we got to her.” The details settle into place. Palmer had a silent companion the night we almost destroyed her. If we had seen Reagan, I’m not sure what would have happened.
“Like I said, I got involved with a guy a while ago. He’s older. Promised a lot of great things to me. A girl with daddy issues tends to fall for just about anything. The first time he hit me, I didn’t think anything of it. The second time, I told myself it was an accident. The more often it happened, the more I realized I was being groomed to complacency, but it was too late. I was already too far in.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, sliding down to the floor to rest against the wall.
“He started selling me.” She chokes on a cry and slips down her doorway as if standing is too much.
“Selling you?” I blink hard several times. Having our theory brought to light stuns me.
“To his friends, past alumni. There’s an underground organization on campus. I can’t even begin to explain the operation they have going, Marek.”
“We figured something like this was happening, but we didn’t know the extent. We’re grasping at straws, at this point.”
“Declan tried to buy Delaney,” Reagan whispers.
“You know Declan, then?”
“He bought me first. The grade-A psychopath has a fetish for drugging girls and rendering them useless.”
“Yeah, that’s something we’ve learned about him.” I shake my head, frustrated and helpless. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
“I honestly think they felt you nipping at their heels. Their usual girls haven’t been”— a long look passes between us— “strung out as of late.”
“Strung out?”
“How do you get relatively put-together girls to hand over their bodies?” Her eyes widen in an almost comical manner, as if she thinks I should know the answer, and she’s surprised when I don’t. “With blackmail and drugs.”
“What were they blackmailing you with?” I ask, knowing she’s going to shut me down. Reagan shakes her head, giving me the answer I expect. “That’s fair.”
“Dillon Johnson’s the leader of this chapter.”
“I fucking knew it.” I slam my palm against the carpeted floor. “That sick son of a bitch.”
“He’s after Palmer.”
“How do you know that?” Reagan’s finger shadows over her face, pointing to her bruises and scrapes. “They tried to get you to trap her?”
“They tried, but I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“They offered me my freedom, but freedom isn’t just physical. If I turned her over to them, my mind would belong to them. Instead, I took the beating.”
“In exchange for keeping her safe. She has no idea.” I rub the stress from my forehead, only for it to return twice as strong.
“Her kindness last night is proof enough I did the right thing.” Reagan tries her best to smile through the shit storm she’s living.
“How did you know to trust me with this?” I ask. A quick look at the things occurring makes it simple to know handing over trust can’t be taken lightly.
“After everything the four of you did to her, she never turned you in. It didn’t take me long to realize you were doing it for her, instead of to her.” She laughs. “With the exception of Mr. Decatur.”
“It went too far.”
“Correct, and yet, she stayed silent, which told me a few things. She understood your reasoning, and she believed in the little glimpses of good inside of you.”
“We’re evil.”
“Evil is still capable of love.”
“I suppose it can be.” I shim
my up the wall and stand, offering my hand to Reagan. “Pack a bag, okay?”
“I’m fine here.”
“No, you aren’t, and until this shit is done, you won’t be. You’ll be safe up on the hill.” I point at Palmer’s dorm. “I’m going to go grab something. Be ready in a few minutes.”
******
“Hey, everyone, listen up,” I call out as soon as the front door is shut behind Reagan and me. We walk into the house, her quiet as a mouse.
Byron and Dixon look up from their video game. Breaker jumps down from the beams, while Palmer stands from the chair she’s reading in. Everyone’s eyes are on us.
“What’s going on?” Dixon asks first, shifting to get a better look at our new house guest.
“Reagan will be staying here until further notice. If you have a problem with that, then you’ll have to deal with Palmer. She’s thirsty for blood, and I’m sure she’s ready to cut your jugulars.” I wink at my girl, and her smirk widens because everything I’ve said is factual.
“She can have my room,” Dixon offers, standing to take Reagan’s bags.
“I bet she can,” Breaker catcalls as Reagan follows Dixon.
Once they’ve disappeared upstairs, I turn to Breaker. “Let’s cut down the sex jokes for a bit, okay?”
“You’re fucking with me, right?” Breaker scoffs. His face flattens, void of emotion. “What’s going on, man?”
“It’s not my story to tell, but just know she needs to be here.”
“Fuck!” Breaker’s fingers slide into his hair. “How bad are we talking?” His teeth are grinding together as he looks at me, waiting for me to disclose everything I know.
“It’s not good,” I say, refusing to divulge Reagan’s story.
“We need to be smart about this,” Palmer says through a pained hiccup. Breaker tucks her into his side, rustling her hair in a playful way.
“Where’s Reed?” Byron asks, reminding us he’s in the room.
“She said you knew she was leaving,” I announce. “But honestly, I think she’s gone for good.”
“What do you mean? She didn’t say a word to me.” Byron nudges into our circle, placing his back to Palmer’s face. “Let me guess, you chose the sister, and now she’s scorned?”
“I don’t know what her motivation is, but I went to Palmer’s dorm, and Reed’s necklace is gone. It’s her prized possession.”
“That junky old key?” Byron laughs.
“The day she disappeared, she called it her key to freedom.”
“What does that even mean?” His anger and animosity boil over. I’m shoved backwards, caught by the corner of the couch. “What did you do?”
“It’s not my fucking problem if she doesn’t believe that you alone are a good enough reason to stay. That girl is a free-fucking-bird, and she’s incapable of being caged.” I straighten, moving to Palmer’s other side.
“You ruined everything.”
The resentment radiating off Byron has me seeing red. I ease in front of her, blocking her from him.
“You’re hurt, and . . .” Palmer begins to say.
I cut my eyes over my shoulder to silence her. “No, he doesn’t get to use the I’m hurt excuse any longer. That get out of jail free card was played on the rooftop, but it won’t cut it anymore.”
“What are you trying to say?” Byron barks. “You’re going to choose her over me?”
“No, I’d never do that, but it seems you’re making the decision for me.” I stand my ground, preparing for a real fight.
“When this dries up”— he points between Palmer and me— “I hope you remember where you tossed me.”
Breaker guards Palmer’s side, prepared for whatever Byron throws our way. I’m in front of her, daring the mother fucker to move an inch towards me. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the right moment to take a swing.
“Get out!” Dixon’s voice breaks through the silence.
“Excuse me?” Byron’s surprise has us gazing up at the top landing.
“You heard me.” Dixon takes the stairs slow, as if he can’t be bothered to deal with any of this. “Get out. If you’re going to blame her”— he jabs a finger at a surprised Palmer— “for your lack of a relationship with Reed, then you’ve broken our most sacred, unwritten rule.” Dixon looks at us, nodding his head. “Loyalty. We are loyal to those who are loyal to us. We don’t question someone’s loyalty unless there is just reason to, and if I remember correctly, that girl you’re accusing of ruining your life is the exact same girl who kept your sorry ass out of prison. All of us out of prison.”
“You’re soft,” Byron groans.
“No, I’m as far from soft as someone can get, but what I am and will always be, is indebted to her.” Dixon walks straight to Palmer. “I haven’t said it enough, but you got me, for anything. What I did to you is deplorable, and it took me”— his eyes shift to the stairs where Reagan is, her hand flat against her bruised throat— “to understand the weight of my actions and how they can affect others.”
A wondrous glimmer in Palmer’s eyes tells me she’s preparing to forgive him, fully this time. I’ve received that look on too many occasions to know what she’s about to give him is a gift.
She leans forward, placing her hand on his shoulders to tug him to her. When she believes he’s close enough so no one can hear, she whispers, “Let her in.” Palmer’s eyes cut to Reagan. “If she taught you that with a few conversations, I can only imagine what kind of damage she could do to your cold heart, given the time.”
“A black heart isn’t the end of the world.” Dixon smiles in a way I haven’t seen in the entirety of our friendship.
“No, you’re right.” Palmer reaches her hand out to me, and I’m more than happy to oblige her need.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” Byron shouts, swiping his arms over the table in the foyer. A vase of glass marbles shatters on the floor. Leafy flowers float down to the tile. “I’m out of here.”
No one says anything as he disappears out the front door. If there’s anything I know, it’s that Byron will return for his stuff. He’s incapable of staying away.
Chapter Sixteen
Palmer
“Miss Hughes!” I race down the hallway after first block.
It’s Wednesday, three days after Reed left. No one has heard from her or Byron. I suspect they’re together, somewhere. Disappearing acts seem to be a thing for those I love. I’ve been texting and calling Delaney since last night and haven’t heard a thing from her.
Miss Hughes forces a smile on her face, pretending like I don’t know what she’s been up to. “Why, hello, Palmer. How can I help you?”
Before I can blink, I’m dragged into a dark broom closet. A click followed by a bright light has me holding my hand up to protect my eyes.
“Do you know where she’s at?” I ask.
“I assumed you’d be finding me today,” Miss Hughes says.
“She’s my sister. I’m worried.”
“Listen, she just needs time.”
“Time?” I manically laugh. “She disappeared for a year. You hid her from me. For. A. Year. I’d say she’s had plenty of time, Miss Hughes.”
She narrows her eyes on me, thoughts obviously rolling through her mind. What does she expect? I’m a desperate sister.
“Your parents are going to be in town this weekend. Reed’s planned a dinner at my place. I’m sure she intended to invite you. I’ll email you my address the day of.”
“My parents haven’t been to see her, yet?”
“You know better than anyone, they aren’t capable of human emotions.” She cups my shoulders, comforting me with her soft mood and touch. “I’ll let her know you were asking about her.”
“Is it because of Marek and me?”
“Some of us aren’t good with change, Palmer. Your sister hid away from the things that haunt her. She expected normalcy, and that included Marek. She’ll come around.” Miss Hughes opens the door, leav
ing me alone in the janitor’s closet.
Instead of rushing out, I jerk the string to the light and bask in the darkness. Miss Hughes is right. We aren’t good with change, and I might as well have lit up the night sky with the changes I created in her world when she returned.
I didn’t mention our theory to Miss Hughes, choosing to keep Reagan, our own secret weapon, a secret. Reed trusted Miss Hughes for a reason, but with everything that has occurred, I can’t find it in me to trust anyone else outside those living in the Glass House.
When I’m ready to face the world after the harsh dose of reality, I open the door. Of course, Quinn is standing against the opposite wall.
“You fucking Miss Hughes, too, slut?”
“Do you find great joy in being a hateful little bitch?” I walk off only to be jerked around. When I’m fully facing Quinn, her flat palm slams against my cheek. Immediately, I cover the skin with my hand, rubbing the sting away. “Are you kidding me?”
“You and your sister are so high and mighty, thinking you run this place.” Her finger spirals in the air between us.
“Oh, this must be about Reed getting railed like a pig at a roast by your little boyfriend, huh?” I grin, knowing what will hurt most. “She squealed, loud.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s the problem with girls like you. You expect the world to bend at the knee, but you give no one a reason to buckle. Entitlement is a nasty stain on a personality.”
“You mean like the stains Marek leaves on my sheets every day when you think he’s working out?” She taps her bitchy finger against her chin. “I guess fucking could be considered cardio.” She twirls the ends of my hair as she passes by me. “Must hurt to know you were nothing but a dick garage for one of the popular boys. How many parked in that thing?” She smacks at my crotch, but I slap her hand away, receiving a manic giggle in response. “Your sister may be alive, but we know you are better off dead.”
I grit my teeth, ready to choke her for creating doubt in a heart I’ve fully given over to Marek. We are still playing our parts. No one is coming to my rescue. I’ll take this emotional beating, like the others– with a straight spine and vengeance, the color of blood.
