Unhinged (Splintered, #2)(31)
My head’s spinning, trying to absorb his explanation. It fits perfectly with what just happened … how I crafted marionette strings out of water stains to trap the toy clown. Also, the metal butterflies I formed in my memory. “I’ve never understood that. Why netherlings don’t have typical childhoods.” My statement is more rhetorical than anything. I know better than to expect an explanation.
Morpheus’s dark eyes deepen with a wistfulness I’ve never seen before. “Perhaps that’s a discussion we’ll have one day. For now, just know that I have faith you can meet Red head-on and win. When have I ever put you in a situation that you couldn’t handle?”
I open my mouth to start a list, but he shushes me with a fingertip on my lower lip. My jaw clamps tight as I consider whether it would be worth it to bite him. The one thing that stops me is I’m pretty sure he would like it.
“You always come through victorious,” he insists. “With panache.”
“No thanks to you,” I grumble.
He clicks his tongue. “Stop being cranky. You know what that does to me. Makes it impossible to concentrate.” He holds my gaze just long enough for me to see the faint sparkle of fuchsia under his eyes. The color of affection. “The biggest disadvantage to your human side is that you’re a slave to your mortal affections and inhibitions. That’s what we need to work on before we’re off to Wonderland.”
My guard goes up—a knee-jerk reaction. “And how do you plan to work on it?”
“Let me worry about the logistics.”
At that moment, the bathroom door swings open.
Morpheus draws me close, hands on my waist. I struggle to pull away, but it’s too late. Although the light shining from the hall is blinding, I can make out a girl’s silhouette and blond hair.
“M?” Taelor’s voice breaks the silence. “Why did you want me to meet you here—” She steps into the dimness, a look of shock on her face as she recognizes me.
Morpheus’s lips turn upward in a smile of pure satisfaction.
Blood rushes to my face.
He set me up.
Just before I break free he manages to kiss my forehead.
I wipe it away with the back of my hand. A furious scream burns inside my chest, but I stifle it. All I need is to draw a bigger audience. Morpheus would love that.
“I hate you,” I mouth silently.
“Sorry, beautiful,” Morpheus says to Taelor without breaking our gaze. “Alyssa followed me in. We had some reacquainting to do.”
Taelor’s mouth gapes. Shock and hatred flash in her brown eyes.
I grab my backpack and shove past, pausing in the hallway to face her. “It’s not what you think.”
Her mouth finally closes enough to form a sullen smirk. “It never is with you, is it? You have Jeb so fooled. Perfect, innocent little skater girl.” There’s so much poison dripping from her words that I could swear she’s been soaking her tongue in arsenic.
Morpheus looms behind her—a silhouette of wings and bravado only I can see. He offers a half bow, the master puppeteer acknowledging his puppet. Taelor’s been waiting for a year to get back at me for stealing her boyfriend, and Morpheus has found the perfect way to ensure nothing interferes with his plans to make a martyr of me.
My chest burns. I have no way to convince Taelor of my innocence, so I start for the stairs and concentrate on the forward momentum of each foot, blocking out their conversation. I don’t have to hear to know that Taelor is grilling Morpheus for details about how well “acquainted” we are. He couldn’t have found a better unwitting accomplice, or one with a bigger mouth.
By the end of lunch, our tryst in the bathroom will be all over school. By the end of the day, Jenara will hear of it. And by tonight, Jeb will know all about my dirty little secret that never was.
During eighth-period art class, we’re working in groups to make decorations for prom. The goal is to create an “enchanted forest” setting for the refreshment area and picture booth.
One student’s family owns an apple orchard and provided almost two dozen six-foot “trees” formed of antlerlike branches. For the past two weeks we’ve been spray-painting them white, sprinkling them with glitter, then transferring them into matching ceramic pots filled with clear glass gemstones to keep them upright.
It was a fun project. Until today.
After what Taelor saw in the bathroom, I can’t bring myself to join any of the groups. This is what I get for being a recluse. No one knows me well enough—really knows me—to jump to my defense when rumors abound.
I feign a headache because of the spray-paint fumes, and while I’m slouched alone at my table in the corner, I text Jeb. It’s against school policy to use your cell during class, but Mr. Mason has stepped out for a minute. His temporary substitute is either terrified of high schoolers or oblivious, because I’m not the only one with my phone in my hand.
I try a little damage control, texting Jeb that I had a weird encounter with the exchange student and not to flip out until I can explain.
I send Jenara a similar message.
She and Corbin ditched school right after lunch to attend his mom’s interior design showcase. But it’s just a matter of time until someone texts or calls her with the lowdown. Better she hear it from me first.