Chapter 64 It’s me
SOMA
Something warm, wet, and slippery lands on my head, sliding into my hair and dripping onto my jacket. I inhale a breath, forgetting to stay in control. Gasps rend the air before the cafeteria quietens.
“Oh God, Dee. I’m so sorry.”
It’s Helga. There’s enough shock in her voice to lead a foolish person to believe she’s truly remorseful.
“No, no, no. This was a mistake. I didn’t see you.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I wipe the sauce that drips onto my brows. It doesn’t help. My eyes fly open, and more of it—juice and spaghetti plop onto my blazer, staining my shirt as well. Anger simmers beneath the chilly grin that tugs at my lips, and my hands tremble. When I turn, Helga is less than a foot away from me with an empty food tray and a face red with guilt.
“Of course you didn’t,” I mock. “I’m that invisible.”
“No, I mean it. I didn’t see—”
“Enough,” I snap.
How stupid does she think I am? The cafeteria is big enough for everyone to walk freely without colliding with someone who’s seated. Is she trying to impress her boyfriend, whose eyes are now on us? I should have known he had a sinister reason for showing up to the cafeteria today. That realization crushes the budding hope of ever fixing this broken relationship. We are done. I would rather die than be her friend.
“Because you’re Brynne’s plaything,” I begin, my voice deathly calm. “You think you can bully me?”
“Dee—”
“It’s Lady Soma to you.”
Helga’s tray slips to the floor, and the crash rings too loudly in my ears. Her bottom lip quivers as her hand slides into her pocket to retrieve a pink, folded handkerchief. The second she steps forward, I raise a hand to stop her.
“Can I at least clean it up? It was an accident.”
“Don’t touch me,” I warn.
Tears glisten in her eyes, and I scoff. Nodding, she picks up her tray and says, “I’m sorry, Lady Soma.”
A second or maybe two passes before she drops the handkerchief on the table and walks away, and that’s when the tears fall to my cheeks. I don’t know why it hurts. She broke my trust. She chose him over me.
Instead of sitting here being the center of attraction, I leave the cafeteria and head to the changing room with my backpack. I know they want to bully me into leaving the academy, but I’m not going anywhere.
The Moon Goddess chose me for a reason. Even if not for her sake, but mine, I would survive the five years.
On entering the changing room, I check to be sure I’m alone. Ever since that first prank in my locker, I’ve always carried an extra uniform in my backpack. But today is the first time I’ll be using it. They will have to try harder if they want me to leave campus.
I clean up as thoroughly as possible before heading to my next class. Once lectures are over for the day, I rush home. As soon as I enter my suite, Jade gasps.
“My lady, what happened to you? Your hair.”
Jade looks around, as if the assailant is here with us. I walk past her and enter the room, but she follows and disappears into the bathroom. Moments later, she returns.
“Your bath is ready,” she tells me.
Usually, she leaves to give me privacy, but tonight, she stays back. I toss my backpack on the floor and shed my uniform before entering the bathroom. She follows me, but I’m too exhausted and overwhelmed to kick her out.
“If you like, I can help you wash your hair.”
“Okay,” I reply.
Jade skips toward me, where I sit in the tub, and spends the next few minutes lathering my hair and massaging my scalp. When my hair is clean and the water drained, she refills the tub. She doesn’t leave but stands beside the tub.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
Words rush to my mouth, and I beat my hand over the surface of the water. “Helga is not my friend anymore.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I murmur.
“It’s okay. You can make other friends.”
Slowly, I turn to look at her. “Look at me, Jade. Be honest. Is there a warning on my forehead? A label that tells people to keep away from me?” My breath hitches, and I hug my knees to my chest. “Why does no one ever like me? The few people who ever come close only want to use me.”
“My lady,” she breathes.
“Is something wrong with me?”
“No, my lady,” she spits. “I like you.”
“Because you have no choice, and you’re my maid.”
“Not true.” She crouches beside the tub, her fingertips vanishing into the water. “You’re a good person. Even if I weren’t your maid, I would love to be friends with you.”
“Liar.”
She chuckles. “I mean it. Even now, you’re like my best friend. My only friend. Don’t be sad because of Helga.”
A moment passes, and her hand finds mine in the water. Her fingers interlock with mine, and she smiles softly. It doesn’t take away the hurt, but the hole in my chest no longer feels so big.
Hours after Jade leaves, I’m still having trouble falling asleep. My thoughts are a mess. I turn and toss in bed, unable to conjure sleep. Kicking the covers off me, I pull a robe over my nightwear and leave the room. I need to confirm that Tristan is good for her.
But when I reach the door of his room, I don’t knock.
How do I start the conversation?
Our last class on politics talked about nonviolent strategies and diplomacy. It’s time to try that. I need people on my side if I’m going to survive Brynne and maybe Helga successfully. And he’s the best option I have.
But when I lift my hand, I can’t bring myself to knock. Maybe I’ll talk to him in the morning. Instead of going to my room, where emptiness awaits me, I head downstairs.
The place is dark with streaks of moonlight spilling past the curtains and onto the floor. I head to the front door, wincing as it creaks open beneath my fingers. It’s colder tonight, so I curl my arms around myself.
Moonlight pours into the foyer, and I retrace my steps to the vase. The flowers are fresh, and the petals are wet, like they were watered minutes ago. Someone got to it first, probably the same person who’s been watering the ones outside and replacing the batch inside often. I’ve only been fortunate to change it once.
Left with nothing else to do, I shut the door and head back. The living room is shadowed by darkness, but staying here seems better than being alone in my room. I plop onto the couch closest to me and shoot to my feet with a startled gasp.
There’s something—someone on it.
Before I can scream or escape, the person tackles my wrist, pulling me toward them. My hands fly out for balance, and I land with a huff on something solid and firm.
“What the—”
“It’s me.”