Page 105 of Fractured Fates

I bang harder.

“Stone!” I cry out.

It takes a while but eventually I hear the creak of furniture and footsteps approaching the door.

“It’s nearly ten o’clock,” he mutters from the other side of the door. “Come back tomorrow morning.”

“I need to speak to you. Now.”

“Speak to me tomorrow,” he says with irritation.

“No,” I say. I wait. I rattle the door handle. I hear him mutter a string of curse words. Then the door creaks open. Only a fraction. I see him through the gap. No jacket, no tie, shirt undone at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. His feet bare.

The way he looks makes my stomach swoop.

“What do you want, Blackwaters?”

“To talk.” He scoffs and starts to close the door. “I lied,” I say quickly.

He stares at me, his features unchanging. “You lie to me all the time.”

“I lied to you about those objects. I could … I could see the fingerprints.”

He keeps staring, and I notice the multitude of different colors in his beard. “Come in,” he says finally, pulling the door back and stepping aside.

The classroom is dark except for the moonlight penetrating the window and the light from his office falling across the floor.

He shuts the door and rubs his fingernails across his chin, the noise rough. I have an urge to do the same, to run my fingers through his beard.

He frowns at me and drops his hands.

“Why did you lie?”

I shake my head, dropping to lean against one of the desks. Then remembering the rumors currently circulating about me, I jerk upright.

“The boys in this school are pathetic scumbags. I could have told you that.”

“I’ve not come to talk about that,” I snap.

His eyes flicker across my face and he nods. “Why did you lie?” he repeats.

“Because … because it felt safer to conceal the truth.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust anyone … except for Pip and Winnie.”

“That’s very sad, Blackwaters.”

I shrug. I’m bored with feeling sorry for myself. I want answers. I want answers so I can get the hell out of here.

Stone drops onto a chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

“This again?”

“I don’t belong here. That much is clear.”

“Yeah,” he says, involuntarily rubbing at his chin again. “Yeah, I don’t think you do.” I take a step backwards, like he slapped me and he looks up, as surprised as I am. “What? You think I’m going to spout a load of bullshit to you about how you do?”