Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(64)
He reaches out and lightly touches my hair. I want to throw up, the tears in my throat making it worse. I look up at him. He’s so focused on my hair, eyes concentrated the same way they are whenever we do work on the Bunsen burners. Like my hair is a … science experiment.
Abruptly, he lets my hair go, letting the strands that fall from his rough fingers brush against my face.
Then, without another word, he turns and leaves.
The girl who haunts my mind wraps her hand around my neck and starts squeezing, her scream echoing in my brain as I rush through the double doors, up the stairs, and into Devon’s music class, where I told him I’d meet him. But when I get there, he’s staring down at his phone.
He’s seen it too.
“Devon, I think something bad is going to happen to me,” I cry out, letting myself go, unable to stop.
The emotions pile up on top of one another—how scared I felt yesterday, how terrified I feel now. Everyone looking at my passed-out body, laughing at it. Jamie watching my body, using it, laughing at it.
“That’s Yale gone—my future. I’m going to work in a fast-food restaurant; I can’t be a doctor with this—”
“Chiamaka—”
I cry harder. “Everything’s ruined—”
Richards’s voice startles me as it rises. “Chiamaka!”
I look at him properly now. He doesn’t even look like he’s wearing a uniform, with that black alien hoodie and his sneakers.
“Chiamaka, we’ll find them and stop this. Colleges probably don’t care about petty gossip, okay?”
Devon is a bad liar. Of course they care, but I nod anyway.
Sunday needs to go off without a hitch; we need to be on top of our game. No one can know about what I did.
* * *
Before Aces hinted that I’m a murderer, I thought the whispers and the judgmental gazes were the worst feeling. I was wrong. The silence is much worse. Now, whenever I walk into a hallway or step into a class, everyone goes silent, even the teachers. The silence is a lot louder and more suffocating than their low voices.
I barely made it through today. It’s hard trying to pretend I’m okay when I’m not. I finish detention, after doing a double shift for missing yesterday’s, and waiting for me outside is Belle. She has this huge smile on her face—like I haven’t been accused of murder, like my whole life isn’t falling apart, like someone isn’t trying to ruin me. Belle hasn’t seemed fazed by what Aces said; I don’t know if that makes her naive or perfect.
She hugs me, but I can only feel like this hug is a goodbye. I’m just waiting for the next message from Aces now—their story, their evidence. What are they going to say? That I was the one who drove the car, hit the girl, and left her there? In reality, I’m an accomplice at most, but that doesn’t matter. Aces has twisted everything. And who’d believe me over legacy kid Jamie Fitzjohn?
No one.
My power has only ever been in the hallways, in what people thought of me. How can that compete against someone whose parents are Niveus alumni and donors, people who hold actual power?
Belle links her arm through mine, and I hold on tightly as we start walking, leaving the school.
“Can I walk you home?” I say, hoping she says yes. I don’t want to be left alone in my room.
“Sure, and on the way, I’ll tell you about how Jamie tried to tell me he has changed. He even said you guys are on speaking terms.” Sarcasm laces her words.
My stomach turns, and I remember our conversation from earlier. How Jamie looked at me like I was so beneath him. How confident he seemed that he wouldn’t be implicated in all of this. This whole time I was convincing myself that Jamie was as scared as for his future as I am for mine, but truthfully, he’s a white man and they are able to get away with murder.
“He has a weird definition of ‘speaking terms.’”
Belle laughs. “I can’t believe anyone would be best friends with someone like him for that long…,” she says, side-eyeing me. I nudge her softly, laughing a little too.
“I know, right? And to the girl who dated him—wow, I could never.”
“Lucky we aren’t those people, right?” Belle asks, her fingers threading through mine naturally—which I try to act casual about.
“Right,” I say.
“Anyway, I told Jamie that I have no interest in him, that there’s another person I’m hoping to see.”
My eyebrows rise, but I try not to look hopeful.
“Did you tell him who?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know if you’d want him to know.”
I stop in my tracks and she stops with me.
On Wednesday we kissed, and then Ward came in and I had to pretend Belle was giving me my homework, praying to God and all other gods that Ward hadn’t seen us. Belle rushed out and we didn’t get to speak about it, especially after yesterday, when I just wanted to be alone.
Until now.
We start walking again.
“Sorry Wednesday got cut short. I wanted to talk after,” Belle says.
“Me too.”
I don’t know exactly what it means or why Belle is the only girl I have ever thought about in that way, but I don’t want to examine my feelings; I just want to like her and not think about my parents or the people at Niveus and their judgments and opinions.