Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(6)

Then Revenge has to ruin it.

“Are you going tonight?” he asks.

I could pretend confusion. I could act like I didn’t hear him. Yet his simple question destroys any pretenses of normality I’ve managed to achieve. Elvis mourns into the sudden stillness. I turn the radio off, gritting my teeth. The clouds have relented just a little, but the light drizzle makes the world the darkest of greens.

The few businesses in Franklin crawl by on our right. The gas station, the diner, the general store. Everything else has OUT OF BUSINESS signs propped up in the windows. Ever since the mines closed, we’ve been fading away. The only people left have nowhere else to go. Most have lost hope. A group of kids play on the street, their faces dirty and their clothes ragged. They should be in school. But they aren’t. It makes me think of futures and families … or the lack of them.

Naturally, this leads to thoughts of Nate Foster.

“Will you come?” I ask Revenge, even though I already know the answer.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He’s looking at me. I can feel it. I focus on the road, unable to ask my own questions. But why? For me? Or for you?

Fear—an Emotion I meet more often than I’d like to admit—wraps his arms around both me and the seat. His skin is so cold, and his smell is sickeningly sweet. “Five seconds,” he whispers in my ear. “That’s all it would take to face your fear. Maybe less, if you can talk fast.”

My eyes meet his in the review mirror, and the blond creature flashes me a quick grin. Revenge watches him with obvious dislike. Hopefully he thinks Fear’s summons stem from the idea of facing Nate Foster tonight.

Then I blink and we’re alone again—nothing to prove that Fear was even here other than his lingering scent. Revenge visibly relaxes. “So, why are we going in early today?”

The school rises up against the horizon. Back in the 1800s, it was a huge courthouse. Despite the conversion, it still has the gold plaque next to the door. The town clock towers beside it. I guide my old car into a parking space next to the curb and still avoid looking at Revenge. I’m afraid he’ll see the truth in my eyes. “I had to get out of there” is all I say.

Rather than climbing out like a normal person, Revenge vanishes and reappears at my side. “I understand that,” he says, shrugging. “There isn’t a species more annoying than humans.”

“No, it’s not that.” I study the cracks in the sidewalk as we make our way to the front steps. There isn’t anyone around to notice me talking to the air. “I just hate making them worry. My father wasn’t the most well-behaved kid, I guess. The sheriff was always arresting him and Dad didn’t get to graduate, which is why he went to work in the mines. Saul and Missy probably think I’m going to end up the same way.” And I probably will, in most ways.

Revenge looks speculative. “You made him out to be so perfect.”

I picture my dad. I was twelve when he died, and already it’s hard to remember the exact details of his face. We had the same thick eyebrows, the same clear skin and wide eyes. I got his hair, too, a caramel-like shade of brown that has a slight wave to it. Maybe the similarity is why I haven’t cut it in years, and now it’s become a thick, unmanageable curtain. What does Missy think I inherited from my mother, exactly? When I look in the mirror, all I see is Dad.

Realizing I still haven’t answered Revenge, I shoulder my bag and start to climb the steps. “To me, he was perfect. I never saw that side of him.”

“Wrong,” Revenge says, startling me. “Don’t you remember what—”

A familiar perfume—sweet pea—surrounds me just before someone slams their shoulder into mine. “Can someone please tell me why I have to stick around here for another year? Is a diploma really that important? I mean, I have a plan. Move to L.A. and become a star. Who needs high school for that?” My friend eyes me and tosses her curls over one shoulder. “You look like shit, by the way,” she adds. “That birthday dinner with Missy and Saul must have been exhausting. Did you get in trouble for the eyebrow? I have to say, I did a great job.”

“Hey, Georgie,” I say dryly. Revenge wrinkles his nose in distaste. He’s never liked her. Probably because they’re so alike. “Why are you here early?”

“I told you, it’s Georgiana now. Georgie is just … amateur.”

“Oh, excuse me. Georgiana.” We reach the front doors and I open one of them for her.

She sweeps past.“Make fun of me while you can. You won’t be laughing in a year.”

The air in our school smells like mold and disinfectant. Though her locker is on the other side of the building, Georgie walks with me toward mine. “A year is all it will take to rise to fame, huh?” I ask her, trying not to smile.

“Again, I’ve got a plan.” She sniffs. “Don’t you ever listen to me when I tell you things? First, I’m going to—”

“We listen to you, Georgie. There’s no need to go through it all again.” The third member of our little group appears beside us, holding her books and fixing her gentle smile on Georgie. Briana Brinkman, who’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, shifts her clear gaze to me and her smile grows. “Hey, Alex. We came early to work on Georgie’s essay. It’s due first hour, and all she’s written is her name.”