Page 63 of Don’t Forget Me

LYSANDRA

5 YEARS AGO

I hoped Ezra had forgotten how easily my ecstasy had ended when he called me beautiful. Truthfully, I didn’t know why I had reacted like that. I didn’t mean to, but it was like I couldn’t control myself. Like my pain, my trauma, my ghosts had taken full control of me.

I wasn’t beautiful. How dare he say that?

No. I was wretched, broken, and horrifying.

However, he was my friend, so I would continue to speak to him as if nothing had happened. Maybe I could apologize for pushing him, and we could go back to normal. I also didn’t want to trigger any of the ill memories that he kept in the back of his mind about his own family.

My anxiety made me wrap my fingers around my notebooks more tightly. His raven-black hair faced me, and I tapped his shoulder. His sharp ocean eyes turned to me, a slight sparkle gleamed in his gaze, before he looked away. “Hey.”

A cold shoulder. I deserved that.

“Hey,” I chirped. I couldn’t come up with anything else. We walked beside each other through the halls of the academy.

There’d been students opening and closing their lockers as we passed by. Others were leaning against the arms of the grand staircase. Some of them sat on the steps as students walked up and down.

“How do you think you’ll do in the history test today?” I asked, hoping to break the tension between us.

He shrugged.

And I’m starting to see that it would be even more difficult to make him talk to me again.

Another boy with bright blonde hair and a mischievous grin came up from behind him, setting a hand on Ezra’s shoulder. “Did you hear that Krissy is having another rave tonight?”

Rave? Ezra didn’t seem like the type of person to attend those types of parties. All three of us strolled through the busy corridors of the school, but I felt like a phantom. Zack didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Much like Ezra.

“Yeah, I did. You going? I won’t go if you don’t,” Ezra exclaimed with a dazzling expression. My jaw clenched. It was incredible the way he could hide his emotions so well.

“Of course I’m going,” the boy shouted. I grimaced, his piercing voice almost shattering my eardrums.

Something inside of me broke even more.

“You seem busy, I’ll just see you later then.” I picked up my pace, leaving Ezra and his friend behind. Why did I even care if he went to that party?

Probably because some snobby Scottish girl was going to be all up on him. But would he let himself be touched like that by them? He was the son of a multimillionaire; he could do whatever the hell he wanted. But I cared. I cared, and I hated imagining him with another girl.

I let out a sharp breath.

This couldn’t be happening. I groaned, heading into my dorm and plopping face down on my pillow.

There’d been blazing whistles and glasses clinking as I pushed through customers, making sure to hold firmly to the platter in my hands. It was busier on Friday nights. The Scottish citizens had finished work, which meant they had two and a half days to be lively and celebrate.

I had come to learn in my three months here that Scots loved to rejoice in festivities. There were many carnivals and parties held in the squares of Edinburgh. But tonight, the festivity was within The Black Orchid, the pub I was a server at. Although I wasn’t sure what the celebration was today. I just hoped to please the customers enough to get extra tips. Perhaps the many drinks they indulged in would convince them to give me more than usual.

The pub had gone quiet for a short moment before another explosion of laughter and hoots began.

I handed the plates to some of the guests before smiling widely, then returning0 to the kitchen. It had been chaos inside. Platters, cups, and utensils were dropped into the sink at every second. There’d been orders being shouted around all night. I was glad I wasn’t part of the kitchen crew.

Dealing with customers was difficult, but not as troubling as fixing up the plates weighing down on your shoulders.

“We got special customers in today! Stop what you’re doing and prepare a Cullen Skink and a Clootie Dumpling!” Miriam barked at the chefs who’d been standing by the prep table. Then she made her way to me. I was about to rush out of the kitchen when she called after me. “Lysandra!”

I breathed in, shifting in place to face her. “Yes, Miriam?”

“You’re a pretty face. Wait for the plates for our special guests and serve them well.”