Free The End of the World by Amy Matayo Page A

find the exit. If only Cameron were more naïve. We’re locked in a face-off as I weigh how much to say. In the end, I decide to concede a bit.
    “It’s only happened once. He swore he would never do it again.”
    He lets go of my wrist and just stares at me. His face goes rigid, turns white then red then white again. He ages two or five or ten years while I watch. It’s unnerving and hard to witness—feels like I’ve singlehandedly ruined whatever was left of his childhood with my careless, careless words.
    “He swore? And that’s supposed to be enough?”
    “Yes. And it’s only happened to me that one time. Never to Maria. He wouldn’t—”
    “You can’t know that.” His hands fall as he shakes his head, anger morphing his features into straight lines and sharp angles and steely stares that burn my eyes. “There’s no way you can know that for sure, Shaye. You need to tell someone to make sure it stops.”
    “I’m not telling anyone, and neither are you, Cameron. I have it under control. Swear to me you won’t say anything.”
    “Shaye, I can’t swear to keep something like that to myself. It isn’t right. You need to call the police, or at the very least your social worker. They’ll help.”
    I give a little laugh before I can stop it. Help. The concept is as sad as it is hilarious. No one helps. No one ever helps me. I tell him as much.
    “If I thought it would work, I would say something.” I shrug at his frown because there’s nothing else to say. Life is what it is, and mine isn’t going to get better any time soon. “When my parent’s died, no one wanted me. For four years after that I lived in a home for discarded kids because still no one wanted me. Now, I have a place to live, and I’m not going back. I’d rather be treated badly here than to go back there.”
    His mouth hangs slack. “Shaye, you can’t—”
    “Swear you won’t say anything, or I won’t trust you anymore. It only happened that one time.” I give my own hard glare right back at him. When he blinks, I figure the explosion isn’t quite over.
    “I don’t like it. Not at all.” Cameron tunnels a hand through his hair and looks into the empty air before turning his focus toward me. “If I see him so much as lay a hand on you…”
    “He won’t. Just trust me. That’s all I’m asking.”
    I turn and walk away, thankful to put distance between me and his scrutinizing gaze. For possibly the first time since I moved in, I’m glad to be heading back to the house. Back to peanut butter sandwiches and oscillating fans and crying babies.
    Maybe Cameron follows me. Maybe he doesn’t.
    I don’t turn around to notice.

Chapter 10
    Cameron
    I ’ve been at this school exactly twenty-eight days, four hours, and seventeen minutes if you don’t count weekends, and if you add up all those seconds and minutes and hours and multiply them by three—that’s approximately the number of insults I’ve heard about Shaye since my first day here. I’m not sure if she’s being targeted for something she’s actually done or for just an awful misconception made up by some very hateful classmates, but she’s being bullied worse than everyone else combined.
    I hate this place and most of the people in it.
    I turn around and shoot a glare in the direction of the latest offender—a redheaded Molly Ringwald knock-off named Abby who sits behind me in advanced algebra and might be considered pretty if she didn’t have such a vile tongue—hoping to scare her. When she just laughs at me, I decide words are in order.
    “Are you always so hateful or is it just a part-time hobby?”
    “Shut up, Cameron. No one asked for your opinion.” Smiling at the girl sitting next to her, Abby picks up a swirly pink pencil and chews on the eraser, then pulls it out of her mouth. A long string of saliva is attached to both ends, making my stomach curl. Even her mannerisms are gross. “Everyone knows Shaye’s a slut, even if she’s your