Those Who Shatter

Chapter 11: Jam Toast

Since gym is my last period of the day, I rush from the archery room before Instructor Fletch, Alden, or Jase can stop me. As such, I'm one of the first to the lockers on my hallway. Of course, I wasn't able to make it out of there before Fletch promised to flay us alive if any of us forgot our P.E. uniform on Wednesday. I swear that ex-marine looked straight at me during it all. I'm about to shut the locker door when a petite hand gets there first and snaps it closed. It nearly takes my nose off. 

Annabelle leans against the locker next to mine, her pale cheeks a little flushed. I'm pretty sure she ran here, probably pushing at least three kids out of her way in the process. 

"You shot an arrow at Jase Miles?" she asks, an eyebrow raised inquisitively. "The Jase Miles?"

I zip up my shoulder bag and loop it over my head so it rests comfortably across my chest. "Is that what people are saying?" I can't help but grin to myself even though I know that's not true. I find that I'm slightly enjoying all of this. "And what do you mean 'the Jase Miles?'"

Annabelle tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't play coy with me, Guin. Jase Miles. Dreamboat senior. Captain of the lacrosse team. Do-gooder of the world. Teaches kids with disabilities how to ride horses in his spare time. That Jase Miles."

I toss her a smirk. "Well, he's not very good with arrows."

She smacks me on the arm. "Guin!" she complains. "Did you really shoot him? You know, his dad is the headmaster of the school, and impaling his son the year before he goes off to Ole Miss or Clemson to become a lawyer, or a doctor, or a professional athlete—"

I laugh. "Calm down, Annabelle. I didn't shoot him. Golden Boy is fine. The only thing that may hurt is his ego." When Annabelle continues to look at me, waiting for more, I sigh. "Instructor Fletch forced Jase and I into a shoot off. I won. End of story."

A mocking frown flickers across her face. "Oh, well, that's far less exciting."

I try to feign nonchalance as we enter the parking lot. "So, what do you know about him?"

She peers at me with a glint in her brown eyes. "Fletch or Jase?"

"The Jase."

Annabelle stops at a bright yellow jeep and leans against the bumper, observing me with a knowing expression. I kindly don't comment on the fact that, of course, she has a car like this one. She kindly doesn't comment on my weak attempt to sound disinterested in Jase. 

"Besides all the teenage hormonal hype, you mean?" She pretends to swoon. "Well, he's adopted for one thing. Showed up in town when he was about three or four years old. Right on the doorstep of Headmaster Miles' farm estate. My parents and his parents have been close for years. Headmaster Miles' wife, Miss Mary, has been sick for some time now. Jase became quite the miracle baby news story around Liberty Forrest."

"Huh," I comment, scratching at my chin.

"Oh! Also, he's been captain of Battlefield's lacrosse team for two years. The favorite of demonic teacher, Fletch Davies. He's best friends with the school's number one flirt and dick, Alden Finch—"

A shadow looms over us, and we both look up just as Alden says, "Someone say my name?"

I cross my arms and legs on instinct and lean away from him, eyeing him through slitted lids. "Don't think I haven't forgotten that it was all your fault, what happened today," I accuse. I look over at Annabelle who, oddly enough, is staring into the gravel beneath our feet like a Drude Demon is crawling around down there, suckling on bones—and to think I'd been doing so well at acting normal.