Page 172 of Midnight Curfew

Dallas

By 3:00 p.m., all the students are gone, except for a few stragglers in the weight room, bulking up for football season. Cars leave the parking lot, and the scent of the hot pavement drifts through the courtyard. I even catch a hint of the sea, or maybe it’s on me. Sanoa Bay rides the coast while St. Carmen sits a couple of miles inland.

I stop at Serena Oliver’s classroom to make sure she’s taken care of sending out the details of the field trip tomorrow, but the room is dark. Santiago empties her garbage can into his cart, tipping his chin at me.

Did she leave already?

I guess I’ll see her tomorrow. I don’t really want to see the caverns—again. Some babysitter took us when we were kids and Macon was off in the Marines.

But I would love to not be accessible to Callum for twenty-four hours.

I sigh and head back to my classroom, the irony not escaping me. I’m thinking about him in order to work out ways for him to think about me.

Stepping into my room, I spot Anna-Katherine sitting on the window ledge, playing with…

I peer closer, resisting turning on the lights, because she likes the candles. She twists a blade in her hand, touching the tip with her other finger.

Is that the pocketknife I gave her? I’d forgotten about it.

She must sense me, because she looks over, perking up.

I walk to my desk.

“Do you want this back?” she asks.

I open a drawer and remove my phone from the charger. “Do you want it?” I ask.

She seems enamored, and hey, I’m not against her having a weapon on her. Not at all.

Right away, she nods. “Peter Pan had a blade.”

Turning my ringer back on, I swipe for notifications. “Thieves, spies, assassins, ninjas…” I chime in.

“Pirates,” she adds.

Students aren’t allowed to carry anything dangerous on campus, but a pocketknife is a tool. And she’s not a student.

I don’t know how often her “episodes” happen or what she might do with a knife, but I don’t think I want to take it away from her. The world has taken enough.

“You seem even happier than usual,” I tease.

“Did you see Milo Price leave earlier?” she asks, studying the blade in front of her face. “Looked like his hands were broken.”

Milo Price? The muscles in my neck tense. Callum had him here?

But then the second part of what she said registers. His hands were broken?

“He hurts girls with his hands, you know?” she whispers.

I would’ve known if the police were here, which means they weren’t.

“My brother is so cool,” she coos, smiling at the blade.

Callum attacked him? Hm, looks like he has some balls, after all. Giving himself enemies on two fronts is stupid, though.

Anna-Katherine inhales a big breath and jumps off the ledge. “He says you’re supposed to give me a ride.”

She picks up her backpack and water bottle.