“What are you waiting for?”
The consequences of my mistakes surrounded me—layers and layers of them taped to every surface like a prison of my own making. I hurled myself at the closest wall, tearing down the photos of dead birds and chalk outlines, electrical storms and flooded streets, mug shots and maps.
Slashes of pink and gray peeked out from beneath the bits of paper still stuck to the walls—a print of my favorite painting, Chris Berens’ Lady Day. A girl floating through the air under a glass dome.
I taped it to my wall the moment the boxes marked school had arrived—the ones I’d packed before my house turned Poltergeist, and I took off with Jared and Lukas. She was the last shred of my old room and my old life. It hurt too much to look at her everyday, so I buried her under the scraps of my new life.
I always believed the girl under the glass found way out in the end. But maybe I was wrong. I ripped the print off wall and tore it in half. The dome split down the center, tearing the girl apart along with it. The two halves fell to the floor, lost in a sea of articles about the tragedies my mistake had set in motion.
Someone knocked on the door. “Everything okay in there?”
The first print my mom had ever given me lay in pieces at my feet. I picked up the half with the girl’s face on it and folded it up, before slipping it into my notepad.
“Kennedy, I know you’re in there. Open up.”
I recognized the girl’s voice, but I couldn’t place it.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
I cracked the door, and one of the Black Eyeliners stood on the other side looking bored.
She glanced over my shoulder at what was left of my dorm room. “Rough day?” Her tone dripped with mock sympathy.
“What do you want?” I asked, holding the notepad against my chest.
“If you’re gonna be a bitch, I’ll just tell the hot guy who’s looking for you that you weren’t interested in his message.”
“What are you talking about?”
The girl sighed and rolled her eyes. “I caught him wandering around Anderson Hall. He said he needed to find you. That it was an emergency or something. You’re lucky he ran into me and not one of the dorm mothers.” She held up a damp scrap of paper. “He said to give you this.”
I unfolded the paper, and my heart felt like it stopped beating. The black ink was smeared, but I still recognized the image—and who had drawn it.
Jared.
In the center of the page, he had drawn a black dove. Exactly like the one tattooed on his arm.
Black Eyeliner Girl gestured at the drawing. “So what does it mean?”
“Where is he?”
She crossed her arms, indignant. “Are you gonna tell me who he is?”
I stepped closer, stopping only inches from her face. “Where is he?”
The girl shrank back against the wall. “Relax. Did you skip your meds today or something? He’s behind Anderson Hall.”
I pushed past her and raced down the hallway.
Nineteen days had passed since the last time Jared and I saw each other, but it felt like forever. I thought about him every day, and every day I fought the urge to take off and look for him. But now he was here.
Finding him was the only thing that mattered.
By the time I reached Anderson Hall, my wet clothes were clinging to my body like a second skin. Behind the dormitory, the woods stretched into a sea of black. But for the first time since the night I spent hidden in the back of my mom’s closet as a kid, my chest didn’t tighten from the surrounding darkness.
My only fear was not finding Jared.
“Jared?” I whispered. “Where are you?”
Please be here.
Between the rain battering the roof and the wind rustling the leaves, I couldn’t hear anything except the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
“Kennedy?”
I spun around and collided with Jared’s chest. My feet slid out from under me and he caught my wrist. It started to slip through his wet hand, the same way it had nineteen days ago as we ran from the crumbling prison.
But this time I didn’t fall.
Jared lifted me and slid his hands under my arms, his thumbs pressing against the tender flesh just below my shoulder bones. I let my hands trail up his arms, the muscles tense beneath my touch. He stared down at me, his blue eyes even paler in the sea of black around us.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
“I found you,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to touch my face.
The words wouldn’t come. I reached out and grabbed the front of the heavy, green utility jacket he was wearing on top of his army jacket, clenching it up in my fist. Jared’s hand slid down my jawline and through my hair. When his fingers reached the base of my neck, he pressed gently, urging me into his arms.
“Talk to me, Kennedy.”
I let my forehead drop against his chest and choked back a sob.
“Just tell me if you’re okay,” he pleaded.
“As close as I’m going to get.”
Jared lifted my chin, and I could make out the faint outline of his face. His strong features and long eyelashes, the scar above his eye, and the boyish good looks hidden underneath a Fight Club exterior. His lips grazed mine, tentative at first. My breath caught, and he pulled me onto my toes deepening the kiss.
I felt everything at once—the happiness of seeing him again and the shame for allowing myself to feel it, the pain of missing him and the fear of losing him.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “God, I missed you.”