Page 12 of Twisted Heathens
Brooklyn. Her name is scored into my memory. I’ve already met the ghost that’s riled Kade up so badly, before I came to Blackwood. I never expected to see her again. She looks even worse than before. Bones protruding, pale skin and that damned blank face, like she doesn’t know how to smile.
“She’s hot, but needs fattening up a little. Poor girl looks half dead.”
The glare I throw at Phoenix comes easily. His big mouth will get him into serious trouble one day. I feel like I’m chewing ashes, the emotion welling up. Breathing deep, I clear my mind and wash the flavour away. It’s not real.
“Dude, they’re coming this way,” Phoenix whispers.
My heart pounds. I may already know Brooklyn, but we’ve never been formally introduced. I always preferred to watch from afar, unable to ever speak to her. What if she remembers me? What if she realises who I am?
“Morning gents,” Kade greets.
He places his breakfast down on my left, leaving the seat opposite vacant. Fucking hell. Why did he do that? Burned waffles. Roaring fire. Cigarette ash. Calm down and get a grip, Eli. It’s not bloody real.
“Take a seat, we don’t bite,” Phoenix invites.
I can feel Brooklyn hesitating, lingering just behind me. There’s an audible sigh that makes me want to chuckle. I feel like that as well. She eventually shuffles past, plonking an apple and bottle of water down. The first thing I recognise is the frayed band shirt, it’s the same one she wore in Clearview.
“Guys, this is Brooklyn. She’s new here.”
Phoenix immediately shifts closer. “I’m Phoenix.”
He sticks his hand out expectantly. I almost choke on my mouthful when she eyes him distrustfully, refusing to shake. “Hi,” she deadpans.
He quickly recovers, hand retreating and sweeping through his midnight blue hair. Smooth talker here isn’t used to being dismissed. Our eyes connect and he glares, making my lips twitch into a tiny smile. Serves him right.
Ah, that’s better. Candyfloss and full fat coke. Amusement is a good taste.
“Brooklyn is doing a two-day taster from tomorrow, maybe you can both show her to history in the morning?” Kade suggests.
He’s frustrated, I can see it easily. That tastes like spoiled, sour milk. Negativity in others is never pleasant, hence my avoidance of pretty much everyone but the guys. Talking is completely off the table, even with those I trust.
“It’ll be nice to have some company other than this chatterbox,” Phoenix says.
I flip him off automatically, gaining Brooklyn’s attention. Her gaze burns, eviscerating me until I’m looking up, making rare eye contact. Pale grey puddles stare back, framed by long lashes. Her nose is small and pert, lips chapped and red from excessive chewing. She recognises me from this morning, when I nearly fell over with shock from realising it was her.
“This is Eli, he doesn’t talk much,” Kade explains.
I hate being noticed and judged, hate being seen. Invisibility is my friend and protector. Her mind must be working overtime, wondering why I don’t introduce myself. Flipping up my hood, I burrow into the protective bubble of my hoodie. Drop her eyes. Tuck my chin downwards. Anything to escape.
“Nice to meet you,” she murmurs, so low I almost miss it.
Brooklyn sees me, more than I’m comfortable with. She sees me far too easily. Far too deeply. Panic floods my mind, sharp and sour. Like tart grapefruit, so strong it’s almost painful.
“So, what are you planning to major in?” Phoenix interjects.
“She doesn’t know...yet,” Kade adds.
“She can answer for herself, thank you very much.”
Her voice is gravelly and low, not like the overbearing whine of other girls. It’s music to my ears. I hate the screechers. They overwhelm me the most. Hudson often attracts such female interest and it drives me mad. So many emotions on display to fuck my head with.
Kade clears his throat. “Be my guest.”
“I’m not sure yet. That’s all,” she mutters.
“Well, there’s plenty of space on the history course,” Phoenix rambles, desperately needing to fill silence. “It’s boring as fuck and the reading is long, but there’s worse things to be doing. Or… Maths? Science?”
“No maths,” Brooklyn snaps.