Silence.

Chapter Eight.

After the text Rome sent me, the monster growing in my stomach reared its ugly head. I feel so ashamed, so unimportant. Who the hell was I to think Rome wouldn't find new friends? If I was him, I would have passed up my company for that of Daniella's group, too, even though she's a fucking bitch.

My memory reaches back to the tenth grade, when her and her friends stole my bra and underwear during gym class, claiming that I "didn't have anything to put there anyway." I think back even farther, to the eighth grade, when Daniella found out that Dean Zarcotta liked me, and in turn told him I had a horrible STD, which is why I can't talk.

If Rome knew all that, would he still be friends with her? I know the only reason she even talked to him is because he looks like a god. She doesn't know anything about him, like how he prefers green to blue or converse to vans, or that he broke his arm in the third grade playing a disastrous game of jacks.

The clock down the hall chimes the hour. 2:00. I have to wake up in four hours, face Rome, Daniella, and the rest of the student body. Heaving a great sigh, I turn on my side.

The clock chimes three more times before I fall asleep.

//

"Myah, will you please talk to me?" I shut my locker and turn to look up at Rome, who is a head taller and then some. I shrug, yesterdays humiliation resurfacing and threatening to break free. Rome doesn't say anything else until we're seated in first hour, one of the only Daniella-Free classes. "Cass and Shawna are going to the premiere of that new Cinderella movie. They invited us, if you wanted to come." My anger dissipates slightly at the mention of the girls.

I give Rome a curt nod, and I see his lips press together harshly. Halfway through the class, a note slides under my "arm-fort", where I had been trying to nap. On the paper, in his usual perfect handwriting, Rome wrote:

I don't know why you're angry at me, but if its because of Daniella, that's really stupid.

My eyes narrow and I give a huff of indignation. I ball the paper up, tossing it into the nearby trashcan, lean back, and cross my arms tightly. I hear Rome sigh, and from the corner of my eye I see him slump down onto the desk.

Lunch finds me in the library once again, hiding in between shelves to avoid Mrs. Malkin. Not paying attention, I pick a book from the topmost shelf, walking over to one of the small tables to sit down. Not long after, the brace faced boy who addressed Rome yesterday takes the seat across from me, arching an eyebrow at me expectantly.

I mimic his expression, not losing eye contact. His eyes are a warm golden brown, a few shades lighter than his smooth coffee toned skin. His curls are cut short and faded on the sides, the tips bleached a dark blonde. Finally, he speaks. "Can you show me where the books on the War of 1812 are? I tried everywhere, and Mrs. Malkin hasn't been much help."

I nod, grateful for something to do, before standing up. I glance towards the window and see Rome, Daniella's head on his shoulder, only to feel my cheeks heat up. I grab my whiteboard and walk briskly across the aisle, vaguely registering the boys footsteps behind me.

Stopping in front of the Books of War section, I motion to the bottommost shelf. The boy kneels, finding the appropriate book and rising again. "You're the mute girl, right?" I restrain myself from rolling my eyes, and the boy clears his throat.

"Im sorry, that was rude. Your names Myah, Myah... Ride?" I nod, letting a small smile take place on my lips. "I'm Jorie. Nice to meet you." I return his handshake, feeling slightly flustered at the sudden attention.

The bell rings, and Jorie gives me another easy smile, mutters a quick goodbye and turns, leaving.