Free A Girl Called Dust by V.B. Marlowe Page B

you’ve been
treating me.”
        
Nothing came from the other side of the door for a moment. “I’m sorry. She said
we weren’t supposed to talk to you at all this year. Not even to say hi.”
        
“You can’t put all the blame on Lacey. She can’t make you do anything.”
        
Bailey blew her nose. “It’s not that simple. Arden, you just don’t understand.”
        
I understood perfectly. Lacey had made a hobby out of making sure I didn’t have
any friends, and she was good at it. “Why is she mad at you?”
        
“Because of Trent.”
         
Of course, a boy. But I couldn’t recall anyone named Trent. “Who’s Trent?”
         
“This guy we met at a Hudson University party. He and I hit it off and started
dating, but that was a big mistake apparently, because Lacey wanted him too.
She wants me to break up with him, but I won’t. If he were just any guy, I
would have, but I really, really like Trent. More than I’ve liked any boy. So
that’s why she’s pissed.”
         
I stepped away from the door, shaking my head. “Let me get this straight. Lacey
orders you not to be friends with me and you have no problem doing that, but
when she wants you to stay away from this Trent guy, you refuse?” Why could she
stand firm for Trent but not me?
         
“Arden—”
        
“Whatever, Bailey. See you back at class.” Coming to comfort her had been a big
mistake. She deserved whatever Lacey was doing to her. I stomped toward the
door. What was I thinking, caring about whether she was okay?
        
The lock on the stall clicked and Bailey stepped out. “Arden, it’s not like
that. Lacey has nothing to do with why we’re not friends anymore.”
        
“Really? Then why aren’t we?”
        
She opened her mouth to say something and then shrugged. “I—uh.”
        
She looked so sad and broken in that moment, and all I could think about was
the girl who had been my bestie for so many years and how I didn’t want her to
look like that anymore. “Forget it. Let’s go back to class. You can be my
partner. I’ll do all the dissecting.”
        
I waited for her to wash her face, and then we headed back to class. Lacey and
her minions threw us dirty looks, which I told Bailey to ignore. I’d become a
pro at that. She still looked sullen. Who knew what kind of trouble she would
get into with Lacey for being my lab partner?
       
I showed Bailey where we were on the lab sheet, and she put on her safety gear.
She looked at the dead crayfish and made a face. “Gross.” Her voice sounded
muffled behind her mask.
       
I pointed all the parts of the crayfish out to her. Andres Bryant, who sat at
the station in front of us, chuckled when I mentioned “sex organs.” I wanted to
ask him how old he was, but when it came to Andres, the self-proclaimed class
clown, it was best not to engage.
       
I picked up the scissors. “Now for the fun part.” Holding the crayfish down
with one hand I began to cut its back open, being as delicate as I could. Using
the forceps, I pulled the skin back. Bailey gagged beside me, but I had to give
her credit for sticking it out.
        
Looking at the inside of the crayfish the smell of something titillated my
nose. The odor of the formaldehyde wasn’t weird anymore. I smelled something
else. Fish, meat, and salt. The salty smell made me think of the saltiness of
the olives I loved to eat.
        
 “Arden?”
         
I looked over at Bailey. I’d almost forgotten she was sitting there. She
pressed her mask to her nose. “Can we move this along? I think I’m going to
puke.”
       
I nodded and looked at my lab sheet, matching the parts on the labeled diagram
to the actual crayfish. The stomach. The ventral nerve cord. The heart. The
intestines. The liver . . .
       
Next thing I knew, my dissection tray was empty and something was sliding down
my throat quick and easy. Everyone around me