Charcoal Tears by Jane Washington Page A

the looming sadness—“have you seen them?” My voice picked up a little bit. “Have you seen me ? Of course they didn’t just want to be friends with me. I’m a freak, like everyone says.”
    His palm slapped against the door and it fell shut again. “What the hell are you talking about? What’s wrong with… you?” His eyes slid from my face but just as quickly returned. There was anger in his face, but there was fear, too.
    My mouth fell open, I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with my art teacher, but I waved at my face, at my mismatched eyes and the mottled bruises flowering beneath the foundation I had tried to apply. “I’m a freak,” I repeated, slowly, like maybe he hadn’t heard me properly the first time.
    He fell silent, the dominant expression in his dark eyes now that of shock. He fell into the door, hitting it hard with his forehead. “I can’t believe this.”
    I had never seen him lose this much composure. Usually he just hovered and observed, pulling me this way and that with his deep voice. Right now his eyes were closed and he seemed to be holding his breath. He drew back from the door, and I still hadn’t moved. Other than the stranger at the bar, Quillan was one of the tallest men that I’d ever stood next to. I had to tip my head right back to meet his eyes.
    “You’re a miracle, Seraph. You’re incredible. You just don’t know it yet. Now get the hell out of my classroom.”
    I should have put my foot down and stayed, demanded to know why he’d suddenly lost his mind, but he was using that commanding tone of his, and I was obeying before I even knew what I was doing. I was halfway to my music class before his words hit me.
    You’re a miracle, Seraph. You’re incredible. You just don’t know it yet.
    My book bag fell from my shoulders and a few more safety pins popped off, but I didn’t move. By the time I collected myself and made it to music, the class was almost over. The teacher frowned at me and I muttered an excuse about feeling sick, which she didn’t believe. I dashed straight to the corner of the room, and it only took a second for the boys to corner me.
    They each planted a shoulder against the wall, and angled themselves to close the space between them and hide the rest of the noisy class from me. The message was clear: no escaping this time.
    “What’s going on?” Noah’s voice was quiet and calm. “Why are you ignoring us?”
    You’re a miracle, Seraph.
    I started to hyperventilate a little bit, but then someone plugged in a guitar and the loud sound of an amp flare cutting through the room brought me back to earth.
    “I was… angry.” My voice was too breathless. “I had been wondering why you two were trying to be friends with me… it didn’t make sense, but now it does. I just—I just hoped maybe—” I cut my hand through the air. I wasn’t even understanding myself anymore.
    “You’re going to kill me,” Noah groaned quietly. “Don’t think like that about yourself, Seph. Even if you hadn’t been one of us, we still would have stalked you to the grave.”
    I snorted on an unwilling laugh, feeling like he had stolen it right out of my throat, and he grinned.
    Cabe looked a little incensed. “We don’t stalk her.”
    “If she didn’t want to be friends, we probably would be,” Noah countered.
    Cabe tilted his head, considering this. “Yeah, okay.”
    I groaned, hitting both of them on the chest, one after the other. They let me, so I did it again, harder. This time Cabe’s hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist. “Alright, you emotional wreck, stop beating up your stalkers please. We need to stay healthy, we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
    I shook my head, swallowing down another laugh. “You’re absurd.”
     
     

6

     
    The Questionable Sanity of Silas Quillan
     
     
    The rest of the week passed in a cycle of avoidance. Gerald avoided me, I avoided speaking to Quillan, and the boys avoided talking about