Weight of Silence(24)

She studied him with what he called her Dr. Analytical face. “But that’s not it, is it?”

“It’s part of it.”

“Look, you were there for me this year when I thought I was going to completely lose it. I want to help you with whatever’s going on.”

“I know.”

“Which is code for you aren’t going to tell me?”

“Exactly.”

“Fine, but promise me that if you really need help, you’ll come to me. I know you, Jace. You hold things in until the secret makes you sick. You don’t have to do that.”

Intellectually, he knew she was right. He could trust her, could tell her everything and she wouldn’t judge him. She’d listen and comfort him. But then she’d try to fix it, and this wasn’t her problem to fix. He got himself into it, he’d deal without dragging his sister into the middle of the shit storm.

“Promise me,” she said again.

Jace looked her in the eyes, identical to his own, and lied to her face. “I promise.”





Chapter Seven

Sleep mocked Jace from afar that night. He prowled his room for hours, unable to fully relax enough to sleep, until physical exhaustion forced him to flop down into his papasan chair with his iPod. He shuffled until he found a selection of panpipe music from the Andes that he’d downloaded for a school project two years ago. The gentle tones of the pipes and their melodies did the trick, and he woke with the sun in his face and a cramp in his neck, as unrested as he’d ever felt in his life.

He wanted to call Gavin, just to hear his voice. He couldn’t describe what it was about the tall, hyperactive older boy that calmed Jace’s own morbid thoughts and gentled the stress that battered him from all sides. Maybe it was as simple as Gavin’s comfort with himself—something Jace certainly didn’t have. But he couldn’t call Gavin, because Gavin had gone into work early to help with inventory at the Dollar Mart. They’d made plans to meet for lunch at eleven-thirty, which meant Jace still had four hours to kill.

Running could murder some of that time.

He changed into sweats and sneakers and took off without bothering to warm up. Maybe he’d pay for it later, but he just wanted to go.

The morning was cold, with enough frost in the air and gray clouds overhead to hint at potential snow. It hadn’t snowed much yet that winter, and they were due for a good dumping. With Jace’s luck, they’d get a blizzard and he’d be snowed in at his house for days with Gavin on the other side of town. He shivered as much from the cold that had instantly numbed his face as from the horrible idea of being stuck with his family for days.

It had been fun when he was five. Not so much now that he was an adult.

The cold air burned his lungs as he ran, choosing an unfamiliar route through his neighborhood, toward the center of town. As his muscles warmed, he picked up speed. His empty stomach growled, annoyed at the exercise without first being fed. He ignored the familiar sound, ignored the lightness in his head, ignored the warm muscles that had, strangely, already started aching.

He was burning more calories than he was consuming—years of running told him that with perfect clarity. He still didn’t stop or slow down. The adrenaline pushed him forward, kept him going for the first mile, when lack of sleep and food tried to make him quit. He wouldn’t quit, not on something as easy as a run.

The problems waiting for him at school faded behind the burn in his legs, the fire in his lungs, the cold air all around him. Jace focused on nothing except each new step, each extra yard. Stratton itself faded into the background. Nothing existed except the cold, the sidewalk and the burn.

Until a blaring car horn startled him out of the haze. Brakes squealed, and the terrifying noise was immediately punctuated by the flash of a blue hood as Jace slammed into it with his entire body. His left knee jammed against the passenger wheel and a jolt of pain shot down his leg. The car had stopped moving, and Jace stood there, hands braced on the hood, panting and dizzy.

I was almost hit by a car.

“Holy shit, man,” the driver said as he climbed out.

Jace recognized the voice, and he looked up to find Rey King staring at him, wide-eyed, from the other side of the car. Jace glanced up and down the street, unsure where he’d ended up. He’d circled back toward the neighborhood where Rey lived, and he’d apparently run right out into the street without checking first.

“Jace, you all right?” Rey asked. He came around to Jace’s side of the car, breathing hard like he was the one who’d been running. “You came out of fucking nowhere.”

“Sorry, my fault,” Jace replied. He peeled his hands off the hood and stood up straight. His left knee protested with a bolt of pain that forced out a wince.