Mark My Words

76 | Pick A Side

Rain trickled from the roof and ran in rivulets down the windowpane of Rosalie Mason's hospital room. She had her head turned to the side so her cheek pressed into the white, fluffy pillows and her eyes tracked a ribbon of water descending past the glass. The fog outside the window felt as cold as she could imagine, but right now, she was bundled up under a blanket in the stiff, regulated warmth of the hospital.

The door to her room creaked open. She turned, careful to keep her bandages off of the pillows. That entire side of her face was numb and she felt as though it was padded with a several-inch-thick layer of cotton that warmed her right cheek.

She swallowed thickly, tasting iron on her tongue as she met a familiar set of eyes she didn't expect to find still in Seattle.

"Lennie—" she started, voice muffled by the swab tucked between her molars and cheek.

She tried to sit up a bit further as Lennie closed the door. She could have sworn it was Monday—the day after they were all supposed to leave Seattle. Of all of the people to stick around, Lennie never crossed her mind.

He came to sit beside her bed. An armchair was still pulled up, but he forewent the cushion and claimed the armrest, a sneaker propped up on the wooden leg. He leant over and pushed the button that sent a whir through Rosalie's bed and pushed the pillows up. Slowly, she rose into a sitting position.

"Thanks," she said. She shook her head a little, eyes closed. "Why're you still here? Not that—I mean—"

"Ray said she'd kick my ass if I left yesterday," he said.

Rosalie smiled a little, crooked and only visible on the unharmed side of her face. It didn't hurt as much to smile as it did to frown, and she attributed it to the muscles that were damaged by the cut through her cheek.

Her chest ached at the thought of Ray all the way on the East Coast. More than anything, she wanted to look Ray in the eye and ask, "How bad is it?" and get the brutal answer of, "It looks like you got into a knife fight and the knife won." Ray would tell it like it is, unlike the passive-aggressive way Lennie said:

"You... look tired," he said.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Courteous as always. So Ray knows now?"

"Yeah, and I'm sure she's delivered the news to the rest of the team. Be thankful you aren't in the group chat right now," Lennie said. He leant back, an arm across the back of the chair as the sensation in Rosalie's chest soured.

She already knew several of her friends weren't fond of Joanna. Juliana's constant skepticism kept Rosalie on her toes; Luanna's concerned nature told her to keep her distance; and Sami was never exactly Joanna's #1 fan—far from it, actually. To top it off, Rosalie figured one of two things would become of Alyssa: She would either swear vengeance or duck out of the soccer group entirely if it meant avoiding a manicured thumbnail to the cheek.

Rosalie swallowed again. Her saliva was about as dense as the clutter in her scrambled brain. She hadn't considered the chance that Ray would be on their side. She could feel it, though—the division between her team spawned from all of their doubt in Joanna Spencer from day one.

Joanna.

Her heartbeat jumped to her throat.

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," Lennie said, slowly.

Rosalie shook her head. "It's fine." She turned away to look at the damp windowpane and sighed. "Did Drew leave?"

She knew the answer before Lennie said anything. "Yeah, they left last night. Joanna almost gave them a black eye—the Lieutenant practically tackled her," he said.