whispers.
“Yes, what ?”
“Yes, sir,” he says, staring at the ground now.
I’m breathing so hard my chest is heaving. “Never again,” I say quietly now. “We are
never having this conversation. Not ever again.”
“Okay, Addie.”
I swallow hard.
“I’m sorry, Addie.”
“Get your shoes on.” I stare at the wall. “It’s time for breakfast.”
TWO
“Hi.”
Juliette is standing next to my table, staring at me like she might be nervous. Like
we’ve never done this before.
“Hey,” I say.
Just seeing her face still makes my chest ache, but the truth is, I have no idea what’s
going on between us anymore. I promised her I would find a way through this—and I’ve
been training like hell, I really have—but after last night, I’m not gonna lie: I’m
a little freaked out. Touching her is more serious than I ever thought it was.
She could’ve killed Kenji. I’m still not sure she hasn’t.
But even after all this, I still want a future with her. I want to know that one day
we’ll be able to settle somewhere safe and be together in peace. I’m not ready to
give up on that dream yet. I’m not ready to give up on us.
I nod at an empty seat. “You want to sit down?”
She does.
We sit in silence a little while, her poking at her food, me at mine. We usually eat
the same thing every morning: a spoonful of rice, a bowl of vegetable broth, a chunk
of rock-hard bread, and, on good days, a little cup of pudding. It’s not amazing,
but it gets the job done, and we’re usually grateful for it. But today neither one
of us seems to have an appetite.
Or a voice.
I sigh and look away. I don’t know why it’s so hard to talk to her this morning—maybe
it’s the lack of Kenji—but things feel different between us lately. I want to be with
her so badly, but being with her has never felt more dangerous than it does now. Every
day we feel further apart. And sometimes I think the harder I try to hold on, the
more she tries to break away.
I wish James would hurry up and grab his breakfast. Having him here might make this
easier. I sit up and look around the room, only to spot him talking with a group of
his friends. I try to wave him over, but he’s laughing at something and doesn’t even
notice me. The kid is kind of amazing. He’s such a social guy—and so popular around
here—that sometimes I wonder where he got it from. In many ways he’s the exact opposite
of me. He likes to let a lot of people in; I like to keep most people out.
Juliette’s the only real exception to that rule.
I look back at her and notice the red rims around her eyes as they dart across the
dining hall. She looks both wide awake and crazy tired and she can’t seem to sit still;
her foot is tapping fast under the table and her hands are trembling a little.
“Hey are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes, absolutely,” she says too quickly. But she’s shaking her head.
“Did you, um, get enough sleep last night?”
“Yes,” she says, repeating the word a few times. She does that occasionally—repeats
the same word over and over again. I’m not sure she’s even aware of it.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks. Her fingers drum against the table, then against her
arms. She keeps glancing around the room. She doesn’t even wait for me to respond
before she says, “Have you heard anything about Kenji yet?”
That’s when I understand.
Of course she’s not okay. Of course she didn’t get any sleep last night. Last night
she almost killed one of her closest friends. She’d just started trusting herself
and not being afraid of herself; now she’s back to where she started. Shit. I’m already
sorry I even brought it up.
“No, not yet.” I cringe. “But,” I say, hoping to change the subject, “I have heard
that people are pretty pissed at Castle about what happened with Warner.” I clear
my throat. “Did you hear about him breaking out of
“Yes, what ?”
“Yes, sir,” he says, staring at the ground now.
I’m breathing so hard my chest is heaving. “Never again,” I say quietly now. “We are
never having this conversation. Not ever again.”
“Okay, Addie.”
I swallow hard.
“I’m sorry, Addie.”
“Get your shoes on.” I stare at the wall. “It’s time for breakfast.”
TWO
“Hi.”
Juliette is standing next to my table, staring at me like she might be nervous. Like
we’ve never done this before.
“Hey,” I say.
Just seeing her face still makes my chest ache, but the truth is, I have no idea what’s
going on between us anymore. I promised her I would find a way through this—and I’ve
been training like hell, I really have—but after last night, I’m not gonna lie: I’m
a little freaked out. Touching her is more serious than I ever thought it was.
She could’ve killed Kenji. I’m still not sure she hasn’t.
But even after all this, I still want a future with her. I want to know that one day
we’ll be able to settle somewhere safe and be together in peace. I’m not ready to
give up on that dream yet. I’m not ready to give up on us.
I nod at an empty seat. “You want to sit down?”
She does.
We sit in silence a little while, her poking at her food, me at mine. We usually eat
the same thing every morning: a spoonful of rice, a bowl of vegetable broth, a chunk
of rock-hard bread, and, on good days, a little cup of pudding. It’s not amazing,
but it gets the job done, and we’re usually grateful for it. But today neither one
of us seems to have an appetite.
Or a voice.
I sigh and look away. I don’t know why it’s so hard to talk to her this morning—maybe
it’s the lack of Kenji—but things feel different between us lately. I want to be with
her so badly, but being with her has never felt more dangerous than it does now. Every
day we feel further apart. And sometimes I think the harder I try to hold on, the
more she tries to break away.
I wish James would hurry up and grab his breakfast. Having him here might make this
easier. I sit up and look around the room, only to spot him talking with a group of
his friends. I try to wave him over, but he’s laughing at something and doesn’t even
notice me. The kid is kind of amazing. He’s such a social guy—and so popular around
here—that sometimes I wonder where he got it from. In many ways he’s the exact opposite
of me. He likes to let a lot of people in; I like to keep most people out.
Juliette’s the only real exception to that rule.
I look back at her and notice the red rims around her eyes as they dart across the
dining hall. She looks both wide awake and crazy tired and she can’t seem to sit still;
her foot is tapping fast under the table and her hands are trembling a little.
“Hey are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes, absolutely,” she says too quickly. But she’s shaking her head.
“Did you, um, get enough sleep last night?”
“Yes,” she says, repeating the word a few times. She does that occasionally—repeats
the same word over and over again. I’m not sure she’s even aware of it.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks. Her fingers drum against the table, then against her
arms. She keeps glancing around the room. She doesn’t even wait for me to respond
before she says, “Have you heard anything about Kenji yet?”
That’s when I understand.
Of course she’s not okay. Of course she didn’t get any sleep last night. Last night
she almost killed one of her closest friends. She’d just started trusting herself
and not being afraid of herself; now she’s back to where she started. Shit. I’m already
sorry I even brought it up.
“No, not yet.” I cringe. “But,” I say, hoping to change the subject, “I have heard
that people are pretty pissed at Castle about what happened with Warner.” I clear
my throat. “Did you hear about him breaking out of
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