“Hey,” Pilot jabs me hard in the side. “Pay attention, psycho.”
I ignore him like the pesky blackfly he is.
“Oh, wait, your mom’s the psycho.”
Ben wants to be with me. I’m sure he does. Yet I can’t seem to fight the clouds of doom, self-loathing, and sadness rolling into my mind. Ben and Garnet? Could it be? So freakin’ soon?
“And she tried to kill you, didn’t she?”
That’s enough! I hiss at Pilot, “Let’s not compare parents. Your dad’s Sexcapade of the Century hardly qualified him as Father of the Year.”
I gave him what he wanted: a reaction. He smiles.
“I’m gonna make your life a living hell,” he says.
I glance at Ben and Garnet again. Yup, still there. Still side by side.
“Take a number,” I tell Pilot.
On stage, two men position a large, covered canvas on an easel. Dia stares in wonder from the men to us to his team to the world he’s about to call home, with its woods colored in 100 shades of green, with its jagged stone still wet from last night’s ice storm, with its vast and wild Atlantic Ocean spreading toward an azure and butter yellow horizon that is, only now, clouding over. Dia seems to be in love with it all.
“This, my friends,” Dia has his fingers on the canvas’ cover, “is the matter at hand.”
He whips back the cover and reveals an architect’s sketch.
“It’s called Cania College,” he says as he runs his hand over the surface of the large drawing. “And it is my masterpiece.”
If he was trying to start his reign with a bang, he’s done it. His audience, imaginations captivated by the possibilities that a college— something to graduate to—presents, explodes with applause. I’m a little less enthusiastic. Just last night, Mephisto told me he planned to expand. And now Dia’s doing it. Could they be plotting something bigger together? They seem to loathe one another, but I’d be a fool to take anything at face value here.
“You see,” Dia explains when the clapping finally slows, “with the recent emptying of that strange little village on the southern tip of the island, an opportunity to expand has presented itself.
“We have yet to secure a contractor to manage the job, but we have unwavering faith that the right person will be found. The right person can always be found, for the right price.”
The subtext: some mourning dad, or mom, somewhere is about to give up his contracting business to get his dead kid into this place.
I glance in Ben’s direction. He and Garnet are gone. Are they together because he thinks I’m in California? Or could there be more to it? Perhaps Ben and Garnet were playing me. But to what end? As the ceremony comes to a close, as everyone fans out, and as Pilot continues whispering to me all the ways he’ll ruin me, I realize what’s happening: I’m letting all the darkness here get to me—the devils in charge, the slimy Guardians. Ben isn’t like them. He’s not.
But then why was he with Garnet?
“You’re on your own,” Pilot snaps at me. “Enjoy the long, slow walk toward your own death.”
Ignoring him comes easily. I head toward the woods—so I can go to Gigi’s and dispose of her remains like I promised—but I run smack into Harper. She has her hands on her hips. Her clones are arranged in a circle around her, but they’re one short: Tallulah Josey isn’t here.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back, Murdering Merchant,” Harper says.
“It wasn’t by choice.”
Plum chimes in. “Is that your excuse for that big hair of yours, too?” Chorus of oh snaps. She high-fives the Model UN from Hell. “As in, not by choice? Get it? Your hair?”
“Yeah, thanks for explaining that, um, sick burn.”
Harper eyes me. “So how does it feel?”
I hope she’s not talking about Ben and Garnet. I haven’t even had time to sit with that yet; I’m sure as hell not ready to talk about it, especially not to her.
“Having my life stolen from me?” I ask. “Or standing here and gossiping with my favorite gang of dead girls?”
“How does it feel to know you’re going to lose the Big V to me now that Headmaster Voletto is here?” Harper juts her butt out and begins gyrating on the spot. “I’m gonna be twerking up on that fine man, and you can kiss your chance to win good-bye.”
“What’s twerking?”
“How long have you been in a coma?” she asks in a fluttering, glittery huff. “Look, just keep your stuff neat ’n’ tidy on your side of the room, got it? I don’t know how small your trailer was back in C-A, but we keep it spick-and-span ’round these parts.”
Wait. She’s not saying what I think she’s saying, is she?
“I’m rooming with you?”
“There’s gotta be a reason your boxes of poor bitch junk are all over my place. Nothin’ to keep secret from you anymore, moron. You’ve graduated to the big leagues, I guess.” She crosses her arms. “And don’t get too excited. You can’t kill me like you did your last roommate.”
“What?”
“Murdering Merchant on her murdering rampage. You shot Gigi before you offed Pilot. You’re a total psycho.”
She and her team whirl—in unmistakably perfect timing—and strut away. I’m about to shout that I had nothing to do with Gigi’s suicide, but why bother? The truth doesn’t matter on Wormwood Island. Avoiding a thousand death stares—do people really think I killed Gigi?—I head toward the dorms. Reluctantly.
I stop dead when I spot Ben and Garnet standing outside the boys’ dorm.
They don’t notice me. So I tuck behind a tree. And peek out to watch them.
Six or seven boxes are stacked against the dorm’s stone walls. Garnet is holding one as she leans, balances, and kisses Ben, who’s crouched to hoist up another box, on the cheek.
Feeling hot all over, I watch his reaction. This will be the test. Was he faking with me? Is he still into her? Did he lie to me about the two of them?
He smiles at her.
And I want to die.
Maybe I’m already dead, and this is Hell.
This is definitely Hell.
Garnet disappears through the front door, leaving Ben outside. My stomach is in my throat. It was only hours ago that Ben was kissing me. Was that all BS? Who kisses someone and then goes back to his ex-girlfriend?
A dead branch snaps under my foot. Ben turns at the sound. I try to flatten against the back side of the tree, but I’m not fast enough.
“Hello?” he calls.
Did he see me?
“You. Behind the tree. Hiding.”
I know I’ll look like a total spaz if I