What You're Not | ✔

46. Numb

My punishment didn't seem so bad since I had no desire to speak to or see anyone. Unfortunately, I still had to go to school and Mom wasn't letting me skip unless there was arterial blood.

I'd spent most of Sunday examining every inch of Rose's picture and comparing it to the picture of Elizabeth from the news article. No matter how much I didn't want to believe it, they were, in fact, the same person.

The last time I pulled out the article I broke down in tears. This time it didn't happen. I was numb to it. It didn't feel real. Like at any moment I'd be jolted awake to find it was only some sick and twisted nightmare.

I mean, what are the odds of me falling for the brother of one of the crash victims?

As I dragged myself through my morning routine, the possibility of none of it being real seemed highly unlikely.

The bus ride to school, which usually took fifteen minutes without traffic, felt like a five minute drive. Not nearly enough time to go through my options.

There was the obvious choice of being honest and upfront. Then there was my usual method of running. That seemed less painful than the rip-the-bandage-off method.

I made him a promise though. No more running.

It took every bit of my energy to hold on to that when he called out my name. No more running.

"You're still alive," he said, as I turned to face him. He wore a smile on his face that I didn't want to ruin. "I guess your mom didn't catch you sneaking back in?"

I shook my head, afraid that if I opened my mouth, everything I'd been holding back would come flowing through.

"Oh," he exclaimed as we navigated the bustling school hallway. "Did I leave my—"

I whipped his wallet out of my sweater pocket before he could finish his sentence.

"Thanks." He slipped it into his back pocket. I was all too aware of him giving me a concerned look out of the corner of his eye. He knew something was up. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Did that sound as squeaky as it did in my head? I needed to take the conversation away from the topic of me. "How's Vivian?"

"She's good," he said, slowly, his gaze still lingering on me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Try looking me in the eye and saying that."

I had to tell him. There was no way I'd be able survive keeping it secret. It was easier before because he wasn't directly linked to the accident. Now that I knew it affected him too, I couldn't smile in his face like everything was okay.

"Actually," I said, pulling him aside to avoid the traffic of students. That's when I saw it, the flyer for the fashion shoe taped to the wall. Nerves could be an easy explanation for my weird behavior. Besides, school wasn't the best setting for the serious conversation we had to have.

"It's the fashion show," I said. "It's just around the corner and my nerves are getting to me."

He looked relieved as he let out a small laugh. "You got nothing to worry about," he assured me, placing his hand on my cheek. "The show is going to kick ass and not just because I'm one of the models."

I heard what he said, but the words didn't register as I glanced down at the tattoo on his wrist. The bright red rose made my stomach drop.

He placed his other hand on my opposite cheek, leaving me no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You're really freaking out about this, huh?" I nodded. His hands fell from my face to my shoulders and trailed down my arms until our fingers were intertwined. "You know what you need? A distraction. I know a guy with a portable air hockey table."