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She shakes her head with a somber smile. “No. The other students say this is the first time we’ve ever had a dance.”
My heart squeezes. Her words hit me right in the gut. I understand her reasoning behind it; every teenager wants to experience dances, proms, and dates. Yes, their lives are very different from the outside world, and it’ll never be the same, but does that mean they still can’t enjoy some of the same life experiences as them? Perhaps you can have the best of both worlds, and what’s happening with the kidnappings shouldn’t affect the rest of the school. A little normality might be exactly what everyone needs.
“I can talk to him,” I say slowly, pursing my lips.
She gasps, her body rising as she smiles with a bright gleam, all her teeth on full display.
I raise my hand. “But it doesn’t mean he would change his mind. So don’t get too excited.”
She continues to burst like a fruit gusher. “Yes ma’am.” Her words rush out quickly with pure joy. Then, she does the unthinkable—she drops her textbook and flies forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezes me in a tight embrace. My eyes widen as my body goes rigid for a split second.
“Thank you so much, Miss Anita. You’re wonderful.”
My eyes lower as my body begins to relax instead of getting the urge to push her off me. I slowly bring up a hand, patting the middle of her back awkwardly, the small smile playing on my lips.
After a few seconds, I wiggled out of the grip. “Okay, okay, that’s enough.”
“Sorry.” She snickers, backing away and picking up her book. The tiny smirk doesn’t leave my mouth as I fluff my hair.
“I guess we are done here. Enjoy.” I turn with the destination on my mind.
“Oh, Miss Anita.” She steps toward me again. “Me and my friends were wondering if you can look into teaching the women's self-defense combat class? Señor Vander will be leaving. His wife is having her baby soon,” she says. “The rampages said all you need to do is ask Headmaster.” She smiles gingerly.
My stomach rolls at her request.Teach a class?I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be officially staying.
I was sure of it before London, but after that. So much has changed.
I need you here.
Stay with me, please.
The faint memory of Ronan’s soft words stroking my dreams as I slept on his shoulder bombards my thoughts.
Do I even want to go?
I give a half smile. “I can’t give you a solid answer right now, but I will give it thought.”That’s all I can offer at the moment.
Her shoulders sank with a weary nod. “Okay.” She brings her book to her chest, the straight strands of her long hair bunched up with it. “I have to go, curfew and all. But I hope you say yes.” Then she scurries off, jogging down the hall.
I stand there, momentarily frozen in place, before turning around and heading to where I plan to sit and contemplate my decisions of being here.
As I walk down the hall my back pocket vibrates. A twist hits my stomach, and I hope it's Ronan letting me know he's on his way back. I grab my phone with a quickness.
No Name: The anchors have docked, snakes on board.
Panic takes over. “Shit.” I forgot to text Oliver back after I landed back in Seattle. I click my phone off, spinning around and rushing to the exit.
Are they here? They’re nothere. They won’t be able to find the tracker in my arm that went out. We each have one for emergency purposes. The only reason I found this place is because Ronan slipped in that disk.
The rush of dread mixes with my thoughts as I navigate through the hall. By the time I reach the front, I find Wicked Mal sitting on the steps, cleaning her gun with a cloth. Just the girl I need. She looks my way, ceasing her movement on the barrel.
“Shouldn’t you be on bed rest?” I ask.
She scoffs. “And miss out on this? I was stabbed, my bones aren't broken or bruised.” She lifts her hands. “I can walk and move. Dr. Rio already sewed me up, gave me extra patches, and checked if any of my ligaments were fucked up. I have medicine for the pain, and he asked me to take it easy on movements. I’m good.”
I look her over once more. She seems fine, her skin is somewhat back to normal. It's like she’s back to the Mal I met a month ago.
So now I get to the point. “Can I borrow your truck, please?” I rush out, my hand extending out, expecting her to hand me her keys.