is comforting as I mentally trace the scars that will forever line the pale skin of my forearms. Permanent reminders of the night I almost lost my life, but was miraculously saved to live another one.
You see, Sacred Heart was—no, is—my safety net.
My parents sending me to live there was the best thing, the only good thing, they have ever done for me, because within its walls, I’ve found more of a home than I’ve ever experienced. I’ve found a place where I’m seen. Where I’m acknowledged. Where I’m loved and accepted.
I’ve finally found…a family.
Gently tapping my pencil against the grain of my desk, I swallow my urge to grin and glance at the person next to me. The first person I met when entering the Sacred Heart home, and one of my best friends.
Genesis Monroe.
Light-green eyes crossed, she presses two fingers firmly against her temple and pulls a mock trigger, clearly as enthused with world history as I am at the moment. Pink hair conceals her face as she falls limp in her seat, and I shake my head and roll my eyes, chuckling softly to myself.
That is, until I see the person right behind her, hanging himself with an imaginary noose. He’s the second person I met and immediately adored, Adam McNamara, and he’s seemingly accepted his feigned death with honor. Neck angled and tongue lolling from his mouth, his blue eyes brighten with humor before he tosses me a gratuitous wink. Breathy laughter bubbles through my nose, and the more I try to keep it at bay, the more it refuses to cooperate. Tears prick my eyes as a giggle desperately seeks escape.
“Chloe Campbell. Would you like to contribute something to this discussion other than amusement at your friends’ incredibly disrespectful behavior?”
Damn it. Busted.
Genny miraculously springs back to life, the legs of her desk screeching across the floor as she bolts upright. Adam and I snort in unison. We’re totally not helping my situation.
I close my eyes, inhale deeply, then twist to face the front of the room. Mr. Alexander’s pinched expression invites more laughter, but thankfully I maintain my composure.
“I’m sorry,” I respond, clearing my throat. “What was the question?”
“To fill the gaps in your unfortunate attention span, we’ve been discussing the fall of the Berlin Wall today, at length.” His bushy brows lift. “So, what do you feel was the impact of its fall on the Cold War as a whole?”
My stare is blank, and I blink. Repeatedly.
Mr. Alexander frowns, then angles his head. “This is not a difficult question, Miss Campbell.”
The answer he seeks is well beyond me, but luckily the soothing, deep baritone of a familiar voice captures everyone’s attention with three tersely spoken words.
“It ended it.”
I don’t have to look at him—I know exactly what my eyes would find. Black hair haphazardly spiked in all directions. Green eyes a shade darker than Genny’s, locked on the floor even when he speaks. Long legs kicked out in front of his desk, booted feet crossed at the ankle, and an unmistakable expression of boredom carved into the most handsome face I’ve ever seen.
Lukas White.
As of a couple months ago, Lukas became the final Sacred Heart inhabitant, and therefore the fourth member in our crew.
“That’s right, Mr. White. Concise as always, but nonetheless, your participation is much appreciated.” After sending a pointed stare my way, Mr. Alexander turns around, effectively communicating his disappointment before dismissing me fully.
And with that wonderful accomplishment under my belt, my mind once again drifts, consumed with thoughts of Lukas White.
We don’t know much about him really. Nothing more than the rumors running rampant throughout the school. We’ve heard he did some time in juvie, but for what, we’re not sure.
What we do know is that he rarely says much. But when he does speak, people listen. There’s just something about him that demands respect. His voice is strong, his words direct. He doesn’t waste them on meaningless discussion, but chooses to use them only when necessary.
Otherwise, he rarely speaks. Except to us.
And he doesn’t make eye contact. Except with us.
I see it. I know Genny and Adam do, too. The reasons why remain unspoken, but we understand it. Hell, we lived it. There’s an undeniable sense of camaraderie between those who survive their own personal hell, and because of that, we give him the room he needs to just be, without questions.
I think that’s why he’s somewhat comfortable with us.