Shimmer (Riley Bloom #2)(22)

“I just wanted her to know I was on her side—but, as it turns out, I never got to say any of that because Monday never came. Or at least not for her, anyway.”

I stood there beside him, watching a family entrenched in a grief so big and raw, it threatened to consume me as well.

“I guess she couldn’t take it anymore, felt she had nowhere to turn. And so…” He looked at me, eyes filled with sadness as the words reverberated between us. “I went to her funeral.” His shoulders slumped. “And I used to leave a flower in her mailbox every day on my way home from school, or at least until they moved, anyway.”

“And those other kids? The bullies?” I asked, feeling almost as awful as he did.

He looked at me, shaking his head in a world-weary way. “Things were different back then. A slap on the wrist, an anti-bullying seminar in the school auditorium, and a whole lot of nonsense about how kids will be kids.”

“And that’s why you’re stuck, then?” I scrunched up my nose and peered at him. “Because you think you were accountable?”

“I participated with my silence.” He shrugged. “I was accountable. I did nothing to stop it.”

To be honest, I had no idea what to do at that point—had no idea what to say. So, I did the only thing I could think of, I squeezed his hand tighter and imagined a small golden bubble of love and forgiveness shimmering all around him, remembering how it’d worked once before, and hoping it would work once again.

And when he looked at me, well, that’s when I saw it. Saw the hate and anger being edged out by the small glimmer of silence displayed in his gaze.

“Hold on to it,” I urged. “Hold on to the silence for as long as you can. There’s no room for the bad stuff in there.”

And the next thing I knew, he was back. Answering the thought in my head about whether he’d ever seen her again, when he said, “The Here & Now is a big place, Riley.” He looked away, running his hand through his hair, before plucking that chewed-up green straw from his shirt pocket and popping it between his front teeth. “I thought I saw her once from a distance, but that’s it.”

I squinted, wanting more. Unable to believe he’d just leave it like that.

“I didn’t approach her if that’s what you’re getting at. And I really don’t think I should have to explain myself.”

“But why not?” I gazed up at him, surprised to still find the smallest trace of the insecure boy he had been, or at least where Nicole was concerned. “Why not talk to her? You’d think she’d be glad to see you—a familiar face if nothing else.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing familiar about me. She didn’t even know I existed.” He bit down hard on the straw, clearly frustrated with me. “It’s high school stuff, Riley. Stuff you wouldn’t understand.”

I rolled my eyes and turned away, but not without letting him see just how angry that made me. Honestly, that was a pretty low blow. I mean, it’s not like it was my fault I’d never be thirteen, in fact, it’s not like—

I scowled at the ground, my anger rising, flaring, threatening to consume me completely, and that’s when I noticed a patch of scorched earth beginning to spread just under my feet. And that’s when I stopped those thoughts right in their tracks, watching in astonishment when the scorched earth disappeared once again.

Focus, vigilance, concentration—just like the prince said.

I had to guard against my temper, my anger, and Bodhi did too. This place encouraged it, thrived on it, whether it was justified or not, it didn’t make a difference. As far as Rebecca was concerned, it was fuel all the same.

“Can you see it?” I asked, not sure which world he was in: the one of old high schools and scorched earth, or the one I could see—the one of lost and tormented souls.

He nodded, looking all around, seeing there were hundreds of them, then sighing as he said, “We need to find Buttercup and get the heck out of here.”

But I quickly shook my head. While I may not understand the world of tragic high school romance, thanks to Prince Kanta, this horrible world of hate, I did understand.

“No.” I looked at Bodhi. “First we need to find Buttercup, then we need to find my friend the prince, then we need to find a way to free all of them.” I motioned toward the sea of tormented souls as Bodhi stood beside me and winced, adding, “And only after we’ve done all of that, can we even think about leaving this place.”





17


Having known him since he was just a tiny pup, I gotta say, I had a pretty hard time believing that Buttercup could have anything to be angry about.

Even compared to all the other well-cared-for pets on our block, there was no doubt he’d lived the cushiest, most insanely pampered life of them all. One that had no shortage of doggy treats, car rides with the windows rolled down, and nice outdoor spots for napping in the sun. And the times we did play pranks on him—like the times Ever and I dressed him up for the holidays in Santa, Easter Bunny, or even cupid costumes, or the time we dabbed a chunk of peanut butter onto the tip of his nose and laughed ourselves silly as we watched him bark and run circles as he struggled to lick it off—well, you could tell he was in on the joke.

You could tell he was having fun.

So why we found him all curled up into a tight little ball of angst, with his eyes shut tight, teeth gnashing together, paws thrashing and kicking as he whined and whimpered like he was the object of the most horrifying torture was beyond me.