Inquest (21 page)

If I speak I
might start crying again, so I just hug him even more tightly. We
stay locked in each other’s arms for several minutes before Milo
pulls back. “We better go if we want to make our reservations.”

For a moment,
I honestly have to consider whether or not I actually want to make
our dinner reservations. Staying here with Milo, alone, that sounds
a lot more appetizing. I can only see his chest so well with his
suit coat on. And I’d love to run my fingers through his hair. My
eyes drift up to his curls. I catch Milo staring at me, the same
expression I’m sure I have on my own face playing on his. I blush
and wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am.

“Yeah,” he
says, “we better go. Now.”

“Good
idea.”

Dinner rushes
by without stopping. It’s over before I can even catch my breath.
I’m sure the food was delicious, but my mind was too captivated
with watching Milo that I barely even tasted anything. I think he
might have been having the same problem. The only thing I really
notice is that we’re the only high school aged couple in the
restaurant. Odd, given the occasion, but then I realize that Milo
must have picked this place specifically to avoid having to eat
around the people neither one of us really want to see.

We hardly talk
at all as we drive to the school. The parking lot is filled when we
arrive, with a few straggling news vans parked outside the gates.
We slip by unnoticed and pull into the parking lot. By the looks of
it, the entire school has shown up. I spot Lance’s car halfway down
the first aisle. Great. Isn’t there a football game or something he
should be at? If Milo notices, he doesn’t give any indication of
it. Not that it matters. We’ll run into him soon enough, I’m
sure.

And we still
have one more week before Christmas break starts. If this blows up
in my face, I’ll have to suffer through everyone’s horrified stares
for a whole week before getting to hide from them. Suddenly this
whole endeavor seems like a really bad idea, especially when I spot
a reporter climbing out of his news van. Waiting, I’m sure, to
pounce on me despite Principal Andrew’s stringent ban on media at
the school. It’s about the only helpful thing she’s done for me
since my Inquest.

Milo pulls
into an empty space, and asks, “Ready?”

“No.”

I’d appreciate
it if he would look even a little nervous, but he has switched back
into an emotionless fog. His face is completely relaxed, as he
says, “Come on, let’s go.”

He’s out of
the car before I can object. When he opens my door and offers me
his hand, I can’t seem to tell him no. He helps me out, and we walk
across the parking lot with the faint sound of the band floating on
the air around us. As we reach the doors, we both stop. This was
all Milo’s idea from the start, but he hesitates at the door. My
hope rises that maybe he’ll just take me home. It crashes down to
my toes a second later when he pulls the door open.

Music blares
around us. People are swarming around the room, dancing, eating,
and talking—well, screaming—over the music, and in general paying
no attention to us at all. Okay, maybe this won’t be as bad as I
thought. I spot Guardians ringing the room a second later and feel
my heart try to jump out of my body.

“There are too
many witnesses for them to try something,” Milo reminds me.
“They’re probably here to protect everyone from you, anyway.”

“Thanks,” I
say drily.

Milo ignores
my sarcasm and pulls me in close behind him so we can squeeze
between people. We start making his way through the crowd toward
the tables, but I keep my eye on the Guardians. Their eyes follow
me as well, but none of them make a move toward me. I try to put
them out of my mind for the time being and keep a hold on Milo.

I can almost
see a break in the sea of teenagers when I hear his voice.

“Milo? What
the hell are you doing here?” Lance demands.

The sound of
his voice ratchets up my paranoia again. Will the Guardians do
anything if Lance comes after me again?

I would have
been happy staying behind Milo’s back for this, but he moves to the
side so everyone can see me, and says, “I’m here with my date. What
do you care?”

Something
incredibly rude and childish should have popped out of Lance’s
mouth after what Milo just said, but he only blinks. At me.

“Libby?” he
asks.

I hate him. I
detest him. That’s what I tell myself, but the anguish in his face
and voice strikes me deeply. I don’t understand why he’s so upset
about seeing me with Milo. We pretty much spend every spare minute
together at school where everyone can see us. He takes a step
forward, but Milo blocks him. I’m fine with that until Lance
gestures at my hair. And then I understand. This doesn’t have
anything to do with Guardian plots.

My death grip
on Milo loosens. He looks down at me in concern. I squeeze his hand
lightly before letting go and stepping closer to Lance.

“You curled
your hair,” Lance says, his voice grating and sad.

I nod.

“But you never
curl your hair. You said you’d never curl it again,” he says.
“Why?”

“Because he
asked me to,” I say.

Lance frowns
and grabs my hand. He pulls me closer so only I can hear his words.
I’m too shocked to pull back like I should. Even with his grip
being tight and angry, Lance holding my hand feels so familiar it
makes my heart ache. I have a hard time meeting his eyes. When I
do, the frustration in them startles me.

“I asked you.
I asked you dozens of times to curl you hair. Why did you do it for
him and not me? You’ve only known Milo for a couple months. I love
you, Libby. Why didn’t you ever do this for me?”

I love you,
Libby
. His words echo around in my head. I want to believe him
so badly. Long before Lance was my boyfriend, he was my best
friend. We have loved each other our whole lives in one way or
another. He couldn’t really have forgotten that so easily, could
he? I know I haven’t no matter how much I wish I could.

I feel my feet
take a step closer to him. Maybe if we actually sat down and talked
about what happened, I could figure out what has been real and what
hasn’t with him. The force of Milo’s anger bursting out of his
careful shield makes me hesitate.

Testing
Lance’s reaction, I say, “You
loved
me, Lance. Past tense.
And before…I’m not even sure about that anymore.”

Lance’s eyes
widen. “You’re doubting that I ever loved you?”

How can I not?
“If you really loved me before my Inquest, you wouldn’t have turned
on me afterward. Maybe I knew deep down what you would do all
along. Maybe that’s why I’m willing to break my own rules for Milo
when I wasn’t for you.”

“You know
that’s not true,” he says. The pleading in his voice kills me. “I
never…”

When he
doesn’t continue, I can’t stop myself from asking. “You never
what?”

Lance’s eyes
dart around to his friends who are all now watching him with great
interest. Under their gazes, his stance hardens. Frustration ten
times worse than before saturates the air around him. “I never
wanted things to happen the way they did.”

That wasn’t
what he was going to say a second ago. I know him too well not to
see that he’s hedging. The people surrounding him are the reason
for it. He won’t be honest with me because too many influential
eyes are watching him. I can feel my anger being renewed despite
the begging expression he’s wearing. I pull my hand out of his grip
and shake my head at him.

“If you didn’t
want everything to happen like it has, then you shouldn’t have let
it. You’re the biggest reason the whole school hates me. If not for
you, they would have forgotten about me after the initial Guardian
blow-up.”

“That’s not
fair, Libby. I can’t help how things are now,” Lance argues.

My hand finds
the pucker of scarred flesh on my neck. He knows what I feel. His
eyes darken and cringe. “Don’t talk to me about fair, Lance,” I say
in anger.

I turn away in
disgust. Lance grabs my arm, his Strength making it impossible to
get away from him without ruining all my hard work. I can feel Milo
bristle next to me. He’s seconds away from punching Lance in the
face regardless of the consequences. Coming here wasn't just a bad
idea, it was a disastrous one.

“Lance,” I say
through my teeth, “get your hand off of me, right now.”

“You can’t
just walk away from me like this, Libby,” he says.

I frown,
feeling hot tears building behind my eyelids. “You walked away from
me, remember? Right after you tried to slit my throat.”

His hand slips
from my arm as his guilt forces him back a step. Milo takes me
under his arm and leads me away. I don’t let myself look back.
Nobody else is brave enough to speak to us before we reach the
dance floor. They leave a pretty wide circle around us, actually.
As always, Milo knows exactly what to do to make me feel better. He
presses me up against his chest, and we start swaying to the
music.

Every ounce of
my focus goes to quelling the tears I refuse to let fall. How could
I think even for a moment of forgiving Lance? The answer that pops
up inside my head scares me. I considered it because I want to
forgive Lance. I miss him. I miss my best friend. But how can I
ever trust him again when he won’t be honest with me just because a
few jocks with powerful daddies are listening in? I wanted him so
badly to say, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry. But he didn’t.
He wouldn’t.

“Are you
okay?” Milo asks.

“I hate
him.”

His chest
rumbles against mine as he laughs. “Good for you,” he says.

I look back up
at him. “Really?”

“What?” he
asks. “Did you expect me to tell you that you should forgive him?
He’s your ex-boyfriend, Libby. I don’t want to see you get back
together with him. In fact, I was kind of hoping…”

A crash from
across the room cuts through the music. Everyone on the dance floor
turns toward the sound. Nobody’s dancing anymore. My feet refuse to
keep moving as well. Several chairs lay overturned at Lance and
Angus’s feet. I have no idea what started their argument, but the
hideous expressions on their faces are steeped in barely controlled
rage. As everyone else sees the cause of the disturbance their
glares fasten on me as they take several steps in whatever
direction will get them further away from me. The Guardians visibly
tense, but for once I’m not the focus of their attention.

With a
frustrated snap of my head, I turn away from gawkers and Guardians
alike and look back at Lance and Angus. Whatever happened between
them, it isn’t over yet. It’s just getting started.

I can only
hear bits and pieces of their yelling match over the music, but I’m
sure I hear my name several times. So does everyone else. I start
to worry that someone other than the Guardians might take a stab at
me. Virtually helpless because of my deal with Howe, I press
against Milo more tightly.

Angus points
an accusing finger at Lance during an exceptionally nasty remark,
which Lance promptly slaps away. Lance has always been the
strongest. Angus’s arm flies backward, wrenching his arm painfully.
Grimacing, but refusing to let his pain show, Angus grabs Lance’s
shirt and yanks him close to his face. To everyone else, Lance
looks outwardly calm, like his so-called friend’s harassment
doesn’t bother him in the least.

I know better.
Lance’s expressionless mask is a defense mechanism. He only ever
pulls it out when he’s close to his breaking point. Maybe I should
do something, since I’m almost sure this fight has something to do
with me, but all I can do is stand there and stare.

Faint whispers
float by my ears. People are wondering if this has something to do
with Guardians choosing sides. Some say Lance is with Howe, others
say Lazaro because of what he did to me. It’s pretty much unanimous
that Angus is on Lazaro’s side, which provokes more whispers,
guesses about why two Lazaro followers would be fighting. More than
once I hear someone ask if the Guardians in the room are going to
put a stop to this. I wonder, too. Maybe they are waiting to see if
I do anything before they step in.

I know I’m
stronger than Angus, better than him in pretty much every way, but
when his furious gaze suddenly shifts from Lance to me, I shiver.
The area around me suddenly gets even emptier. Angus stares at me
with hatred in his eyes. It is pure and about to boil over. The
faint idea that he might come after me flitters around in my head
but disappears suddenly when he thrusts Lance back from him and
walks away. Lance isn’t so lucky. He stumbles over a fallen chair
hard, and rolls unceremoniously to the ground. He’s back up a
second later, but not without a trickle of blood running down his
chin. His eyes fall on me as well, glaring and hard.

Destroyer or
not, I press my back into Milo and will his warmth to surround me.
It doesn’t work. Finally, Lance breaks eye contact with me and
stalks out of the gym. All eyes turn to glare at me accusingly. I
don’t feel like dancing anymore. Milo seems to read my mind.

“Do you want
to leave?”

I nod, not
trusting my voice right now. Milo wraps his arm around my shoulder
and guides me from the dance floor. We reach the doors to the
parking lot without anyone coming within ten feet of us. They all
know I was the source of the disturbance a few minutes ago. No one
wants to get tangled up with that. Fine by me. Milo pulls open the
door and we’re greeted by a blast of snow. Startled, I jump out of
the freezing wind in surprise.

“Wow, it’s
really coming down out there,” Milo says. He looks over at me with
my arms wrapped around my body as they try to keep the cold away.
“Wait here. I’ll go get the car.”