The Rush (The Siren Series) - By Rachel Higginson Page 0,3

of here.

But the worst part, the part outside self-disgust and recrimination, outside the monotony and easy simplicity of all this was the guilt. The guilt that crept up slowly in the shadows of my heart and spread like a black sickness through my veins.

The only thing I knew about Chase at this point was that he was smart, good looking and way too easily impressed. Nothing about our interaction should have him enraptured by my every word, not even my looks, which were unfortunately way too pretty for my own good. It so wasn’t his fault and I felt bad for that.

He didn’t really get a say. And I got absolutely no say.

In the end I would leave him heartbroken and he would leave me shattered just like every single guy before him.

And believe me when I say there were a lot of guys before him.

It was my job.

Chapter Two

“Ah, Ms. Pierce, I wish I could say I was happy to see you,” Mrs. Tanner, the evil witch of a secretary, acknowledged me with a smug smirk that seemed to confirm the fact that yes, in case you were wondering, high school is the ninth ring of hell.

“Oh, Mrs. Tanner, I wish I could say the same thing,” I replied as sweetly as I could. I met her halfway with a long counter in between us.

She was not amused with me.

“You can’t miss anymore school Ivy,” Mrs. Tanner warned and I realized it was practically painful for her to give me advice to heed. This must be coming from the principal, the male principal Mr. Costas. “At least not this semester, unless you have a written note from your doctor. Mr. Costas would like to remind you that you are going to have to work hard enough to catch up this late in the quarter and that skipping, ditching or taking unnecessary sick days will not benefit you toward your goal of graduation.”

“Tell Mr. Costas, I appreciate that he’s looking out for me,” I answered in that same sickly sweet voice I used to annoy the hell out of her.

She ignored me. “Here is your class schedule.”

“Thank you.” I snatched it from her hand and turned on my heel before she offered anymore unsolicited advice.

“The faculty of this school would also like to ask that you not send any more of its students to the hospital,” she called out snidely to my back.

I tensed immediately, my back ramrod straight and my nerves shot to sudden hell. “I’ll do my best,” I ground out and picked up pace.

I just needed to get to the glass door, push it open and get to class.

Fifteen more seconds.

“If you have any extra cash on you, that canister by the door is for Sam’s recovery fund,” she finished on a high note.

I couldn’t help myself. I should have just bolted; and not just from the office, from school, from Omaha, from America…. I should have just gone.

But instead of listening to the sound voice of reason my inner conscience was screaming at me, I let the rotting guilt spread its ugly, vicious wings and glanced down at the canister. There he was. Sam. Smiling and happy in his senior picture that was not at all indicative of what he looked like now…..

The canister was covered with construction paper asking for donations to help with his physical therapy and explaining that he used to be a senior at this school, that he used to be a basketball star, and that he used to be able to walk…. The same life he never got the chance to live before a car accident changed his world forever. The plastic cover had a slit cut out of the top so you could drop money into it, long enough for coins and wide enough for folded up dollar bills.

I couldn’t do this.

I didn’t want to do this.

I felt my breakfast lurch in my very upset stomach. I lunged for the office door knowing even a second more spent trapped in the same room as that canister was going to send me into another breakdown.

Only this time there would be serious consequences to pay.

I threw the door open without seeing. I mean literally I couldn’t see anything. My mind had slipped into the horrific memories of the past and I was pretty sure I could make a solid plea for temporary insanity at this point.

So when I shoved the door with as much force as I was capable of and met