Bloodlines (Bloodlines, #1)(46)

I outlasted both Kristin and Julia in the library, since I had to stay as long as Ms. Terwilliger stayed, which was until the library closed. She seemed pleased that I’d gotten so far with the notes and told me she’d like the whole book completed in three days.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically, as if I didn’t have any other classes at this school. Why did I always agree without thinking?

I returned to East Campus, bleary-eyed from all the work I’d done and exhausted over the thought of the homework remaining. Jill was fast asleep, which I took as a small blessing. I wouldn’t have to face her accusing stare or figure out how to handle the awkward silence. I got ready for bed quickly and quietly and fell asleep almost as soon as I hit the pillow.

I woke at around three to the sound of crying. Shaking off my sleepy haze, I was able to make out Jill sitting up in her bed, her face buried in her hands. Great, shaking sobs racked her body.

“Jill?” I asked uncertainly. “What’s wrong?”

In the faint light coming in from outside, I saw Jill raise her head and look at me. Unable to answer, she shook her head and began crying once more, this time more loudly. I got up and came to sit on the edge of her bed. I couldn’t quite bring myself to hug or touch her for comfort. Nonetheless, I felt terrible. I knew this had to be my fault.

“Jill, I’m so sorry. I never should have gone to see Adrian. When Lee mentioned you, I should’ve just stopped it there and told him to talk to you if he was interested. I should’ve just talked to you in the first place . . .” The words came out in a jumble. When I looked at her, all I could think of was Zoe and her horrible accusations on the night I’d left.

Somehow, my help always backfired.

Jill sniffled and managed to get out a few words before breaking down again. “It’s not . . . it’s not that . . .”

I stared helplessly at her tears, frustrated at myself. Kristin and Julia thought I was superhumanly smart. Yet I guaranteed one of them would’ve been able to comfort Jill a hundred times better than I could. I reached out my hand and nearly patted her arm—but pulled back at the last moment. No, I couldn’t do that. That Alchemist voice in me, the voice that always warned me to keep my distance from vampires, wouldn’t let me touch one in a way that was so personal.

“Then what is it?” I asked at last.

She shook her head. “It’s not . . . I can’t tell . . . you wouldn’t understand.”

With Jill, I thought, any number of things could be wrong. The uncertainty of her royal status. The threats against her. Being sent away from all her family and friends, trapped among humans in the perpetual sun. I really didn’t know where to start. Last night, there had been a chilling, desperate terror in her eyes when she woke up. But this was different. This was sorrow. This was from the heart.

“What can I do to help?” I asked at last.

It took her a few moments to pull herself together. “You’re already doing plenty,” she managed. “We all appreciate it—really. Especially after what Keith said to you.” Was there nothing Adrian hadn’t told her? “And I’m sorry—I’m sorry I was so bitchy to you earlier. You didn’t deserve that. You were just trying to help.”

“No . . . don’t apologize. I messed up.”

“You don’t have to worry, you know,” she added. “About Micah. I understand. I only want to be his friend.”

I was pretty sure that I still wasn’t doing a great job at making her feel better. But I had to admit, apologizing to me at least seemed to be distracting her from whatever had woken her to so much pain.

“I know,” I said. “I should never have worried about you.”

She assured me again that she was fine, with no more explanation about why she’d woken up crying. I felt like I should have done more to help, but instead, I made my way back to my own bed. I didn’t hear any more sobs for the rest of the night, but once, when I woke up a couple hours later, I stole a glance at her. Her features were just barely discernible in the early light. She lay there, eyes wide open and staring off into nothingness, a haunted look on her face.





CHAPTER 11




BEFORE CLASS THE NEXT DAY, I left a message with someone at the Alchemists’ office, telling them I needed “Mr. and Mrs. Melrose” to send a note excusing Jill from PE—or at least from outdoor activities. I hoped they’d move quickly on this. The Alchemists were fast when they wanted to be, but they sometimes had odd ideas of what took priority. I hoped they didn’t have the same attitude toward Jill’s misery as Keith did.

But I knew not to expect any action that day, so Jill had to suffer through another PE class—and I had to suffer through watching her suffer. What was really terrible was that Jill didn’t whine or try to get out of anything. She didn’t even show any sign of last night’s breakdown. She came in with determination and optimism, as though maybe this would be the day the sun wouldn’t affect her. Yet, before long, she began to wane just as she had last time. She looked sick and tired, and my own performance faltered a little because I kept watching her, afraid she’d pass out.

Micah was the saving grace. Once again, he fearlessly switched teams—this time from the very start of class. He covered for her just as he had last time, allowing her to escape the notice of teacher and classmates—well, except for Laurel, who seemed to notice—and get annoyed by—everything he did. Her eyes flicked angrily between him and Jill, and she kept flinging her hair over her shoulder to get his attention. I was a little amused to note that Micah’s attention remained solely on keeping the ball away from Jill.