Jaden (Jaded #3)

Fuck me.

Mena laughed. “No. I know what you mean. I do.” She lifted one shoulder up, pondering the question. “I don’t know. It’s weird. You guys hate me, well, maybe not you since you’re talking to me, but they do.” She gestured to the stage. Bryce and Corrigan were both acting like they were on a runway, each with fierce expressions and their chests pushed out. Corrigan pursed his lips together in a pout and struck a pose. His hip jutted out to the side, he rested his hand on it, and then he shoved his other hip to the opposite side. Bryce was at the other end of the stage, twirling around in a circle so his dress flew up around him.

I grunted. “Right now, they look like idiots, but yeah, they’re works in progress.”

She reached for more chips. “I get why Bryce didn’t like me before. I wasn’t stable, but I’m better now. I’ve had years of therapy. I’ve proven it over and over to Denton. I wanted to come back out here, be with my brother, and try again. Am I dumb? I want to prove myself.” Her bottom lip started trembling.

My eyes got big, and I sucked in a breath. She was going to start crying next, but I couldn’t blame her. I understood, in a weird way. “Just keep on keeping on. Someone told me one time to keep going, keep fighting, keep surviving. Repeat.” I lifted a shoulder. “Sounds like solid advice.”

I was doing the same damn thing, every day. I’d keep going. I’d keep fighting, and I’d keep surviving. No killer was going to conquer me. A renewed vow of finding who he was and bringing him to justice surged in me. I was going to win. I had to.

“Uh, Sheldon?”

I glanced seeing Mena was wincing from pain. Crap. I had reached out to her shoulder and my hand was digging into her skin. “Sorry.” I released her, then gave her a half-grin. “I got carried away thinking of my own situation.”

She rubbed over the spot where I’d been holding her. “Yeah. Listen, I’d like to help.”

“Help?”

She nodded, more earnest. “I don’t know how. Maybe I can be your eyes and ears on campus. I mean, you guys can’t go anywhere without drawing media attention to you, but I can. No one knows me anymore. I won’t draw any attention and I can keep my ears open. People don’t notice me. I mean, look around.” She waved around the table and she was right. There were five different groups, all positioned by the table, but they weren’t paying us the slightest bit of attention. They were either watching the pageant, or they were talking with their friends. No one was looking at Mena, or me.

I realized that with a start. I hadn’t really focused on it before, but it felt good.

No one gave a damn about me, for once. A corner of my mouth was inching upward. I could actually move around, talk, and not fear a video would be sold to a celebrity gossip channel.

“What about it?”

I was pulled from my thoughts again as Mena asked that question. My hand froze in the air; a chip was halfway to my mouth. “Huh?”

“Can I help? Will you let me?”

She looked so hopeful and determined at the same time. For a second, I couldn’t register anything. This was Mena, and she was right. She had changed. I could see it in her now. Gone was the creepy, mentally unstable girl. She seemed normal. There was a hint of desperation, but I felt a kick in my gut again. She wanted to prove herself, like she had said.

I swallowed tightly. Who was I to deny this to her when I was trying to prove myself, too. I felt my head nodding, and I rasped out, “Sure. Yes. That would help, a lot.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.”

She let out an excited breath as she said those words, and she was beaming.

It probably wasn’t smart of me, but I felt myself melting even more around Mena. All the bullshit from high school had been so long ago. Like she said, she’d been paying her dues for a long time now. Besides, we both remained friends with Grace. Before she went to the dark side of sororities, Grace was a good judge. I used to trust her.

Thinking back on those days, I asked suddenly, “Do you miss her?”

The beaming dimmed. It was a sudden switch, and it happened so fast that I was startled by it. Her face became emotionless, then her head lowered. “Yes.” She sounded wistful again.

“Me too.”

“She was good to me.”

My throat swelled up. “Me too.”

We shared a look. Mena wasn’t emotionless. I was wrong. She was full of emotion, but she put a mask on. It wasn’t a masquerade mask, but a guarded wall. I understood her, and I felt an odd camaraderie with her then.

“I’m sorry if I was bitch to you in high school.”

Mena laughed softly. “You weren’t, actually. You were one of the few who weren’t. Thank you.”