The Secret Holder

XXII. While You Were Sleeping

ONE WEEK LATER, MONDAY AFTER SCHOOL

The waiting is torturous. I think that the worst part is acting normal, acting like everything is fine, when I'm waiting for something catastrophic to fall upon all of us. At this point, Stiles and I have a false peace agreement. We don't speak to each other at all, and when we disagree on something, neither of us speaks up because we don't want to fight. The only person who won't shut me out is Scott.

Other than Scott, there is nothing left here. I think I might move to be closer to my aunt and uncle in New York, but that's off the table until I graduate. I need to finish senior year, then I'll leave.

"Lydia?" Scott raising his eyebrows at me has become an unfortunate custom. I'm always out of it and he knows it.

"Yes?"

"Did you do the reading assignment? For AP Bio?"

I sigh. "Yes." I reluctantly hand it to him.

"This is the last time, I promise,"

"Remember to paraphrase,"

"Got it...Actually do you want to go to the library?"

"Sure. Just let me gather my things,"

...

Kira, Malia, Stiles, Scott, and I are gathered around a single table, our books and highlighters scattered about.

Stiles suddenly stands up, the sound of his chair producing a screeching sound. "I'm gonna go look for a book...anyone want to come with me? Lydia?"

Malia looks up from her math book, her eyes swiveling from Stiles to me, hawk-like.

I know better than to say no. "Yeah, okay." I shut my textbook and put my orange highlighter on top of it.

I follow Stiles upstairs and he starts meandering down a random aisle. Oh, no. I sigh to myself. He isn't looking for a book.

"Hey I want to ask you..."

"Yes?"

"Are you still mad?"

"No. No I'm not."

Stiles opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off.

"I'll let you find your book." I leave him alone in the aisle. None of this is worth arguing about, let alone discussing. We're civil. That's what we are.

...

Scott hands me his helmet and gets on his motorcycle. "What was that about?"

"It was nothing," I put the helmet on and get on behind Scott.

"You know I know you better than that."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, I didn't ask,"

...

FRIDAY MORNING

Time oozes by like maple syrup, moving so slowly that sometimes I forget things. I forget about all of what's happened, and how many people have died. I've been doing some independent research behind Scott's back. I can't tell him about any of it because he would just hold me back and tell me to stop accusing Malia even if he knows that she's a prime suspect.

I'm not like Stiles where I have all of my information showcased on a wall. I've learned to be more secretive. Instead I'm using an empty suitcase. I made a false bottom so that I can zip it open and see the information taped together there. Pictures and articles of everything recent are there, and everything about the Crusades is in the suitcase's front pocket. I look around and make sure no one else is around, and then I look at all of the old news articles about the Crusades. Over the weekend I gathered the articles but I still haven't had a chance to read them.