Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(14)

Then Nathan looks at me, evidently remembering my existence. “You better learn how things work around here quick.” Those dead eyes slide off me as he returns to his desk.

I glance over at Gil. His breath is a wheezy little rasp as he clutches at his hip.

“You all right?” I whisper, convinced more than ever that he’s like me and in here by mistake.

“Yeah. Stupid ape.” His eyes widen. “Oh, not you—”

I smile. “I know.” I shoot another glance at Nathan, engaged in his game of cards again.

“He’s right, you know. You should try and make as many friends as you can. Allies are important.”

I glance around the Cage. My choices aren’t exactly overflowing. So far, Gil looks like the only candidate. He must read that conclusion in my face because he starts shaking his head. “I won’t exactly help your rep. I’ll just get you beat up or . . .” His gaze lowers, skimming my body before quickly looking away.

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. The sudden flush in his cheeks says it all, and I understand. A shiver rolls over me. Ironically, being labeled a dangerous individual has left me a target for violence. How messed up is that?

“Really. For your sake. We shouldn’t talk. Find a friend that can actually intimidate guys like Nathan and Brian back there.” His head jerks slightly in the direction of the boys playing cards behind us.

He returns to his desk, leaving me to stare at his profile as he picks up his book.

“Listen to him.”

I snap my gaze to Coco. The first words out of her mouth, but it’s like she never spoke. She’s not looking at me. She’s still hard at work carving up her desk. She’s back to geometric patterns. No more angry, fast-spinning swirls.

Not a glance. Not another sound from her. Listen to him. That’s her advice? That’s it? Frustration wells up inside me as I sit. Alone. Ignored. And realize that it might not get any better than this.


I must have dozed off. I lift my head from my arms at the sound of the Cage door opening. My heart leaps. For a moment, I think that this horrible day is over and I can go home. A quick glance at the clock reveals I still have hours to go. My heart sinks.

I look up as another student enters the Cage. A boy. Mr. Tucci hadn’t been wrong apparently.

There are six of us.

I don’t have time to wonder at his tardiness because I get my first good look at his face and everything inside me seizes hard, like a car locking up on its brakes.

My gaze shoots to the tattoo collar around his neck. The sight of the circle H transfixes me. It’s familiar. And not because I’ve seen it on some news feature calling for greater involvement from the Wainwright Agency. I saw this specific one yesterday in Mr. Pollock’s cubicle.

The same sun-streaked hair almost brushing his shoulders. The smoke-blue eyes beneath thick, slashing eyebrows several shades darker than his hair. Sean O’Rourke.

He tucks a lock of sun-streaked hair behind his ear as he moves inside the Cage, his stride loose and confident. It’s like he doesn’t care that he’s advertising himself as a carrier for everyone to see. It’s like he’s comfortable with what he is. Not a hint of shame to him.

He hasn’t seen me yet. I don’t breathe, facing forward, watching to see where he sits, expecting him to sit with Nathan and his buddy. He doesn’t. Instead, he takes the first desk he reaches, close to the door, close to me.

He slides into his chair, his frame almost too large for the desk. And that’s when he looks up at me. Heat crawls over my face, but I can’t look away from the recognition lighting his eyes. His expression doesn’t change. He remains stoic and unaffected.

After a moment, he arches one eyebrow—and I realize I’m gawking like some middle school girl drooling over her first crush.

With a small gasp, I snap my gaze straight ahead. A quick glance reveals Coco still doing her thing like nothing has changed. Like a confirmed carrier hasn’t just walked into our midst. Gil glances at me. I only get a brief look at his face, but it’s enough. He gives a slight encouraging nod and I know he’s telling me that this new arrival is the type of “friend” he thinks I should have. It dawns on me that Sean O’Rourke must be the “he” that Nathan said couldn’t protect Gil forever.

He must be joking. Sean O’Rourke . . . a good guy? The evidence is there. On his neck. He can’t be. My insides heave and tremble at the thought of approaching him. How does one even befriend a carrier? An imprinted carrier? And just to remain safe? It seems a bit of a contradiction. And one I’m not about to put to the test.


The bell rings at two thirty and I anxiously start gathering my things, stopping when Brockman’s voice rings out.

“Not yet, Davy. That’s for the regular kids.” My face burns at being singled out—and the reminder that I’m not a “regular” kid. “Ya’ll leave in thirty minutes after the halls have cleared out.”

I sit in my chair and face forward, blinking eyes that unaccountably sting. After everything, this shouldn’t get to me. This shouldn’t make me want to cry.

But it does. Regular kids. Which I’m not. None of us in here are.

My gaze sweeps around me. He’s looking directly at me, his expression still that blank nothingness. I make the mistake of wondering what he’s thinking as he stares at me with those deeply set eyes. Because my mind immediately wonders if it has something to do with gags and hacksaws.