Trembling(12)

Jason sat down with me, carrying a tray loaded with chicken fingers and corn. "What the hell?" he greeted me.



"I didn't do it," I said. "It just appeared in my purse."



"Really?"



Did he think I would lie to him? "Really," I said. "But I think I know who did do it."



"Jude?" he asked.



"What?" I glared at him. "Jude didn't do it. Why would you even think that?"



Jason shrugged. "So who did it then?"



"The Sons," I said.



"What?" said Jason. "Why would the Sons steal Mr. Dingle's bell?"



"Have you ever looked closely at that bell? It's got a picture of a rising sun on it. They're sending me a message. I don't know what it means, but it's not good."



Jason took a bite of a chicken finger. "You're paranoid."



"You don't believe me?"



"It doesn't make any sense. Sorry. The Sons wouldn't steal a bell to send you a message. They'd just . . . I don't know . . . kill you."



"But the sun—"



"Coincidence."



"So how did the bell get in my purse?"



"I don't know," said Jason.



"Someone set me up. Who would do that?"



"I don't know."



"It's not like anyone hates me around here. No one even knows I exist."



At that moment, two girls stopped by my table. "You're Azazel, right?" one asked.



"You stole the bell?"



I rolled my eyes. "That's me."



"Awesome," said one.



"Yeah, you rock," said the other.



"Thanks," I said.



They walked away.



"You were saying?" asked Jason.



"Well, no one knew who I was before this," I said. "I'm telling you. The Sons are the only thing that makes any sense."



Jason shook his head. "I know you're always freaked out about them, but you're wrong. And it doesn't make any sense."



I couldn't believe it. I had clearly been given a message from the Sons. A warning. And Jason didn't believe me. "It does make sense."



"No," said Jason, "it doesn't. Look, the Sons know to leave us alone. The minute they try anything, Hallam will go public with the information that Edgar Weem is my father. Weem would never take that chance."



"What if someone's working without Weem's knowledge?" I said.



"Impossible. He's too high up in the Council for something like that to happen. And he protects his own interests." Jason reached across the table and took my hand. "Hey, Azazel, I know it's hard for you. If there was any way that I go back in time and protect you from all of this, I would. I'm so sorry that any of this ever happened to you. And I know it scares you. But it's over. Okay? It's over. The Sons aren't chasing us. The Satanists are dead. We're safe. Okay? We're safe now."



I squeezed his hand. I wanted to believe him. I really did. But . . . "What if we're not?" I asked.



"We are," he said.



I pulled my hand back. I hugged myself. "I want you to take me to the shooting range again."



Jason put down his chicken finger. "Jesus, Azazel, not this again."



"You haven't taken me in weeks," I said.



"Because you don't need to know how to shoot a gun," he said.



"I do so," I said. "I need to, even if no one's after us, so that I can feel safe."



"We went twice a week for a month," said Jason. "You know the basics. You're fine. We don't need to go again."



"What if I get out of practice?" I said. "And my aim still isn't very good. I need to shoot more or else I'm going to lose everything I know."



Jason sighed. "All I want is for us to be normal kids. But you can't let this go. You keep living like we're still being chased. We're not."



"Jason . . ." I trailed off. He made me feel bad. I knew that all Jason had ever wanted was a normal life. I didn't want to be the person who was ruining that for him.



We were quiet for a while. Jason shoveled corn into his mouth. I opened my yogurt and began to eat. A few more students stopped by to congratulate me on my stealing of Mr. Dingle's bell.



"I have detention," I said when they were gone. "For a week."



"That sucks," commented Jason.



"Yeah, it really does. Because I didn't do it."



Jason shook his head. "Why would someone frame you like that?"



I kept my mouth shut. I knew why. If Jason didn't want to believe me . . . But maybe he was right. Maybe I was being paranoid. After all, I was the only one who had nightmares. Jason was fine. He was well-adjusted. He loved living in sunny Florida and going to class every day. For him, our life was like paradise. For me, it was . . . Well, it wasn't paradise.