Some Quiet Place (Some Quiet Place #1)(53)

Did … did part of me want him back, during that brief moment in the school hallway when the wall crumbled?

No. That couldn’t be. “You’ve been avoiding me,” I say in an effort to direct my thoughts in a more practical direction. “At the party—”

He sighs. “I won’t answer your questions about that night, Elizabeth. There are some things a human shouldn’t know. Even a human like you.”

In the distance, an owl calls, a tenor that’s gentle and luring. A symphony. Fear smiles now. “May I have this dance?” He doesn’t try to hide his feelings as he gazes down at me. His hands are freezing on my arms. Our frozen hearts are so similar. Too similar.

“Dance with me, Elizabeth?”

Joshua has come back. Once again he holds his hand out for me to take. His warm, rough, real hand. Courage chooses this moment to appear, and without saying a word to me or looking at Fear, he grasps the back of Joshua’s neck.

I look at Fear, then Joshua, then at those lights floating in swirling masses. I clench my fists. I hide, I protect, I pretend.

I feel Joshua on my right, a balmy, solid presence, and Fear on my left, wintry and impossible. One human, what I should yearn for, and one from another world, part of the plane that has put me in this position. Just being near him makes my own world seem unreachable and surreal.

Surreal is dangerous.

I don’t look at Fear. My fingers are so light as they wrap around Joshua’s hand, and I try to say with my eyes what I can’t with my mouth. I choose you.



Sophia has finally decided how to exact her revenge. I can tell by the way she keeps sneaking glances back at me, a catty smile curving her glossed lips. Her fingers caress the cast around her wrist, apparently from when I grabbed and sprained it. I keep my head down, debating on the best course of action to take: avoidance or endurance. Confrontation is probably not an option; I don’t want another repeat of what I did to her the night of her party.

Joshua also looks back at me, but for another reason entirely. I’d guess he’s uncertain about how I’ll act today, in the aftermath of last night. Sleeping and dreams have strengthened my nothingness, yet there’s still something deep down inside of me that stirs. Something deep down inside of me that can’t stop thinking about Fear and the look in his eyes as I danced with Joshua. I’d done exactly what I’d set out to do: discourage him. Why, then, does the memory of his expression hound me?

“ … read the chapters I’ve assigned you,” Mrs. Farmer is instructing the class. The bell rings as she speaks, and everyone gets to their feet, gathering their books and leaving the classroom as quickly as possible.

Sophia darts out the doorway with the rest of the crowd, no doubt eager to find her friends and start the planning for my demise. Joshua lingers at his desk, waiting for me. I walk past him and approach Mrs. Farmer.

“Here.” My palm slaps against the wood of the teacher’s desk as I set down two pieces of paper stapled together. “My part of the project you assigned.” At Mrs. Farmer’s blank stare, I add, “The portfolio?”

“Oh!” Comprehension dawns in the teacher’s face. Compassion appears beside her—she’s a tall Emotion with a solemn light in her gray eyes. Mrs. Farmer reaches out to pat my hand but I move it out of the way. Hers flutters back to her lap awkwardly. “Joshua did well enough for the two of you,” she says, glancing at him. “You didn’t have to do this extra work. I understand the circumstances.”

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t want special treatment,” I counter. “Please look this over and give me the grade you think the work deserves.”

She knows my meaning: I don’t want to be graded on Maggie’s death. Efficiency. That should be the focus. After a moment I turn my back on Mrs. Farmer and Compassion, leaving the room.

“When did you finish it?” Joshua asks me in the hall. His locker is in the opposite direction of mine but he walks with me anyway. We pass Susie Yank and she waves at me, timid. I don’t miss how her glance lingers on Joshua, and her expression is almost worshipful. I return her wave but don’t stop.

“I finished it this morning,” I tell Joshua finally. “After we got back.”

“Can I read it?”

I walk faster.

“Hey.” He touches my arm, stopping me. It seems like he’s always content to have our conversations in the middle of the hall. I pull my arm away, and he blushes. The sight of that twists something in my middle.

I rake my wild hair back; there was no time to brush it this morning between the poem and my chores. “I’m sorry.” I stare up at him. “I’m not … good at this.”

“Get out of the way!” One of Sophia’s friends shoulders past. She glances at me with a strange expression before hurrying on.

Joshua ignores her. “Talk to me,” he orders.

Now I give all my attention to the lockers to our right, studying the dents in the metal as if they hold some deep meaning for me. “I don’t think that this is smart,” I tell those dents. “You’re going to get hurt. The people in my life have always been disappointed in me sooner or later.”

“Huh.” He takes my elbow to guide me out of the wave of kids rushing to their classes. I’m going to be late yet again. Joshua snaps his fingers in front of my face, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t think you’re really worried about me,” he says bluntly. I blink.