Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2

hardly slept through the night. I’ve been awake since 3:00 a.m., fully dressed and ready to go by 4:00. I’ve been dying for an excuse to fill my mind with things that have nothing to do with my own thoughts. “I’m excited,” I lie. “What are we doing today?”
    He shakes his head a bit. Squints at something over my shoulder as he speaks to me. “You, um”—he clears his throat—“you okay?”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Huh.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing,” he says quickly. “Just, you know.” A haphazard gesture toward my face. “You don’t look so good, princess. You look kind of like you did that first day you showed up with Warner back on base. All scared and dead-looking and, no offense, but you look like you could use a shower.”
    I smile and pretend I can’t feel my face shaking from the effort. I try to relax my shoulders, try to look normal, calm, when I say, “I’m fine. Really.” I drop my eyes. “I’m just—it’s a little cold down here, that’s all. I’m not used to being without my gloves.”
    Kenji is nodding, still not looking at me. “Right. Well. He’s going to be okay, you know.”
    “What?” Breathing. I’m so bad at breathing.
    “Kent.” He turns to me. “Your boyfriend. Adam . He’s going to be fine.”
    1 word, 1 simple, stupid reminder of him startles the butterflies sleeping in my stomach before I remember that Adam is not my boyfriend anymore. He’s not my anything anymore. He can’t be.
    And the butterflies drop dead.
    This.
    I can’t do this.
    “So,” I say too brightly. “Shouldn’t we get going? We should get going, right?”
    Kenji shoots me an odd look but doesn’t comment. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, sure. Follow me.”

SEVENTEEN
    Kenji leads me to a door I’ve never seen before. A door belonging to a room I’ve never been in before.
    I hear voices inside.
    Kenji knocks twice before turning the handle and all at once the cacophony overwhelms me. We’re walking into a room bursting with people, faces I’ve only ever seen from far away, people sharing smiles and laughter I’ve never been welcome to. There are individual desks with individual chairs set up in the vast space so that it resembles a classroom. There’s a whiteboard built into the wall next to a monitor blinking with information. I spot Castle. Standing in the corner, looking over a clipboard with such focus that he doesn’t even notice our entry until Kenji shouts a greeting.
    Castle’s entire face lights up.
    I’d noticed it before, the connection between them, but it’s now becoming increasingly apparent to me that Castle harbors a special kind of affection for Kenji. A sweet, proud sort of affection that’s usually reserved for parents. It makes me wonder about the nature of their relationship. Where it began, how it began, what must’ve happened to bring them together. It makes me wonder at how little I know about the people of Omega Point.
    I look around at their eager faces, men and women, youthful and middle-aged, all different ethnicities, shapes, and sizes. They’re interacting with one another like they’re part of a family and I feel a strange sort of pain stabbing at my side, poking holes in me until I deflate.
    It’s like my face is pressed up against the glass, watching a scene from far, far away, wishing and wanting to be a part of something I know I’ll never really be a part of. I forget, sometimes, that there are people out there who still manage to smile every day, despite everything.
    They haven’t lost hope yet.
    Suddenly I feel sheepish, ashamed, even. Daylight makes my thoughts look dark and sad and I want to pretend I’m still optimistic, I want to believe that I’ll find a way to live. That maybe, somehow, there’s still a chance for me somewhere.
    Someone whistles.
    “All right, everyone,” Kenji calls out, hands cupped around his mouth. “Everyone take a seat, okay? We’re doing another orientation for those of you who’ve never done this before, and I need all of you to get settled for a bit.” He scans the crowd. “Right. Yeah. Everyone just take a seat. Wherever is fine. Lily—you don’t have to—okay, fine, that’s fine. Just settle down. We’re going to get started in five minutes, okay?” He holds up an open palm, fingers splayed. “Five minutes.”
    I slip into the closest empty seat without looking around. I keep my head down, my eyes focused on the individual grains of wood on the desk as everyone collapses