Indigo: The Saving Bailey Trilogy #2 Read Free Page B

to Surfside High, I’d bet money that none of the counselors, teachers or students admitted to knowing I had been viciously bullied before this most recent attack. That would make them liable for not believing me in the first place, all of them except one. The bird lady . I can’t remember her name now, but I could never forget her gentle touch, kind face, and sincere voice: I believe you .
    But, did I believe myself ? Did I really believe that I was pretending to not know of what happened for fear of revulsion? Not a snowballs chance in hell .
    I couldn’t decipher the cause of my silent mouth. Maybe fear, but fear of what? If not of revulsion… then what ? The more I thought about it, the more confused I became.
    It was like Miemah’s attacks had been salt: you keep sprinkling it on your food not knowing you have until that first salty bite, and then you are forced to finish your meal one salty bite at time. The attacks kept coming and I tasted them, all right.
    With my suffering came a sick sense of pride; I was an unbreakable superhuman, having survived not only Mom’s beatings, but Miemah’s too. I had become the strongest girl alive. No one was going to take that away from me, pinning me as a helpless, shattered victim. After all, Miemah had collected many victims. I wanted to be her first survivor .
    •••
    I remained in the hospital for a few weeks and had a lot of empty hours to ponder over the consequences of almost bringing my Bullet List to life. I had essentially rid myself of Miemah, Cecil, Nessa, Latcher, Stewart and Trenton. However, in the process of doing so, I had accidentally rid myself of Clad, too. I prayed to God to bring all my tormenters back, just so I would not have to be without Clad. The thing is, I didn’t realize how much I had been leaning on him until he was gone and I dropped to my knees without his support.
    He shot at the ceiling for me, drywall falling into his hair, his face clear of all emotion. I ran like there was a derailed freight train headed for me. He had no intention of shooting me. Of course not ; he was too smart for that. Clad, with his huge heart and Einstein brain, had figured out a middle ground.
    No one has to die . It was a win-win situation. He tricked me into thinking I’d die if I went through with my Bullet List. I was a turkey with its head cut off, running circles at the sight of his gun.
    It took me until I got home to see through the plan he had negotiated with himself: scare Bailey off, then fire the gun, the SWAT team will come running in and she won’t be able to come back into the school.
    Clad saved me from killing myself—from killing so many others—because I don’t think I honestly would’ve stopped at my Bullet List. Either way, I was going to die; so what did it matter how many people I took down with me?
    Clad went to prison for me. That’s where he is right now, as I lie comfortably on the floor in Goodwill, with my boyfriend to keep me company. When I go back home tonight I will be thinking of Clad and how he gave up part of his life to save me. I will scream out, a werewolf in the middle of the night, calling for him and he won’t come. No one will come. Mom has earplugs that block out all my midnight howls.
    •••
    “I have to see him,” I say to Spencer, closing the romance novel we have been reading together.
    On slow days, which is just about every day at the thrift store, we spread out on our stomachs, prop ourselves up with our elbows, and read through novels yellowed and aged by the sun. The man on the front cover of the one we are reading now reminds me of Clad, his long brown, wavy hair flowing in an invisible gust of wind.
    “Do you think he even wants to see you?”
    “He went to prison for me. I’m pretty sure he wants to see me.”
    “He went to prison because of you,” Spencer corrects me. “Why have you waited so long?”
    “I’m scared. Spence, what if he’s angry with me? I’ve just been putting it