Page 38 of Cry Madness

Me: We need 2 talk

Impatiently, I wait for her reply, which takes an eternity to come.

Alice: Sure

Alice: About?

Me: U

Alice: Me??

Alice: What about??

Me: Heard some shit

Me: Meet me in the maze after class

There’s a pause. A long fucking pause, and I don’t like it.

Alice: ok

Okay.

I speed away, sick to fucking death. Not wanting to believe the bullshit Scarlett spewed. Alice had a stalker? No fucking way. She was attacked? Bruised? No, no, fucking no. Why didn’t she tell me? Why the hell would she hide that from me?

Me?

Her best fucking friend.

The one person who always, always protected her.

I can’t tell what’s worse, what kills me more—that someone hurt her or that she didn’t tell me. I think they both hit the same, and as I drive away, I shove that pain deep down to make room for rage. Searing, blinding rage because the piece of shit who put his hands on her…?

His fucking hands are mine.

TWELVE

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense.”

—Hatter,Alice in Wonderland

Interdisciplinary Art Practice would be an intriguing class if Professor Grasmere weren’t teaching it. It’s not his fault, though, that in comparison to the other teachers of the senior art studio course, his style is a bit bland. His monotone voice makes each minute feel like it’s stretched out for an hour, despite the subjects he’s introduced thus far being rather interesting. We’re combining various types of media to explore the creation of something new with the fused avenues. For instance, we are integrating mathematics into art while avoiding a strictly geometric approach. It’s as mind-numbing as listening to Ben Stein inFerris Bueller’s Day Offcalling out class attendance in his classic monotone.

Bored out of my mind, I covertly palm my phone to text Ivory. There’s an unread message waiting for me from Scarlett.

The hell?

I didn’t even know she had my number. Curious, despite knowing nothing good was going to come from this, I tap on the text and openly gasp at the picture of her and Maddox looking damn chummy.

Are you fucking kidding me?

The photo was taken today. It had to be. That’s the same hideous red outfit I saw Scarlett wearing in Painting IV. Maddox is also dressed exactly as I saw him before. Black tank top paired with medieval-inspired black pants. I vividly recall his attire because, despite my reluctance, I couldn’t help but think he looked fine as fuck. But that’s nothing new. Maddox is always effortlessly gorgeous—roughly elegant—but not when he’s got his goddamn face that close to Scarlett’s.

Makes him ugly as fuck…and me mad as hell.

Switching gears, I text Scarlett.

Me: What the hell is this?