Elite
Chapter Eighteen

“Jules!” Sylvie called out and rushed past Jack toward her. Standing in the middle of the field, the moonlight hugged Jules’s form in a way that all too closely resembled a halo. Not that Sylvie needed any help remembering her innocence in the matter.

At Sylvie’s approach, Jules turned and without a reply sprinted back toward the building. The gentle cricket’s song and the wind’s rustling of leaves were not enough to mask the sound of her broken sob as she went. Cursing out loud, Sylvie ran after her, praying that Jules would at least give her a chance to explain.

Reaching the building, Sylvie slipped inside the open door just as it swung to a close and continued after Jules. The squeal and squeak of their shoes echoed off the cavernous halls, but neither of them were concerned with who heard them. Jules darted around the corner and barreled into the bathroom—a solid chink signaling the deadbolt sliding into place.

Sylvie pushed vainly on the closed door, but it stood firm like the wall Sylvie knew had been built between her and Jules. “Let me in, Jules,” Sylvie said, resting her head on the smooth, cool surface of the door. “I can explain.”

“Go away!” Jules cried. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say!”

“It’s not what you think,” Sylvie said desperately, banging her hand on the barrier between her and her estranged friend. “This is just a big misunderstanding.” Sylvie’s plea was met with a long silence and finally the click of the deadbolt releasing. She breathed a sigh of relief as the door swung open, but it was quickly cut short by the look on Jules’s face.

Through tear stained cheeks and blood shot eyes, Sylvie saw a cocktail of rage and disbelief. “Oh! So you weren’t kissing him?” Jules demanded, daring Sylvie to deny what she had seen with her own eyes. She crossed her arms across her chest and jutted out her chin telling Sylvie it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“Ok,” Sylvie said, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. “I was kissing him, but—“

“I can’t believe you would do something like that to me!” Jules said, exploding. “After everything I have done for you! Anyone else would have shunned you for being Elite trash, but I was your friend!” Jules’s words were like a hard slap across Sylvie’s face and she recoiled just as she would have if they had actually stung her cheek rather than burned in the pit of her stomach.

“I guess I deserve that,” Sylvie said tightly. “But if you would just listen. That’s not what I went there for. He promised to tell me what was going on. And I had to ask him about my mother, Ellena Price.” Sylvie’s explanation rushed out like floodwaters refusing to be stopped. But after the mention of her mother’s name, her haste was no longer necessary.

Jules’s face was instantly diffused—hostility giving way to startled attention. “Oh,” she said, practically tripping over the word. Jules looked down at her feet, suddenly sheepish, like she was the one who had been caught being deceitful. She clearly knew about Sylvie’s mother, but just like Jack and the others, she had said nothing. It was a small foot hole for Sylvie, but she knew it did not let her off the hook completely.

“I’m sorry I kissed him,” she said, taking advantage of the lull in Jules’s upset. “I knew you liked him and it was wrong.” Jules lifted her now dry eyes, the blue orbs considering Sylvie. Weighed and measured Sylvie wondered if she would be found wanting.

“I guess its not all your fault,” she said finally. “I saw what happened. I know that he is the one who kissed you. There is no way you could have known he would do that.” Rather than feel relief at her forgiveness, Jules’s concession caught Sylvie in the throat.

Of course she knew.

She had kissed him first—a fact that must have played like a scrolling marquis across her face because Jules narrowed her eyes. “What?” she demanded, her tone sharpening again. “Did you know? Has this happened before?” Sylvie winced and it was all the confirmation Jules needed. “It has happened before!”

“Jules, I—“ Sylvie started to say, but the girl was not finished.

“When?” she demanded. “Was it last night after you danced? Or before that? You just got here! How long could this have been going on?” In her rant, Jules had begun to pace from one side of the narrow doorway to the other. She ran her hands through her long, blonde hair and cut her eyes sideways at Sylvie.

“It just happened, Jules,” Sylvie said, breaking in on the girl’s obviously rhetorical interrogation. But Jules was not prepared to relinquish the floor.

“You know what,” Jules said, her voice drowning Sylvie’s out. “I don’t wanna know. I don’t want to know anything about you.” It was another verbal slap, but Sylvie was not given a chance to feel its sting.

Seconds later the hall erupted in a cacophony of cries. It was accompanied by the roar of artillery and the telltale tak-tak-tak of gunfire. It was the sound of hell descending upon them. And Sylvie did not have to guess at the source.

“Jules!” she said and grabbed the now startled girl by the arms. “You have to listen to me. Get somewhere and hide. Don’t let them take you.”

“Let me go!” Jules said. “I don’t want your help.” But even as her words denied it, Jules’s fearful eyes searched Sylvie’s for just that.

“There’s a closet just down the hall,” Sylvie said, pointing to the tiny room she had found the first night when she had been searching for the bathroom. “It’s full of boxes and things you can hide behind.” She gave Jules’s arm a slight tug.

“Why would I trust anything you say?” Jules challenged, pulling away. “How am I supposed to know you are not sending me right to them?”

“Jules!” Sylvie said, growing frantic. “Listen! I am sorry about Jack and you can be mad at me later. But I am still your friend and I am trying to help you!”

Shattered glass joined the rumble of chaos rolling down the halls cutting off the time for explanations. Without waiting for Jules to agree, Sylvie grabbed her hand and jerked her from where she hovered in the doorframe and drug her into the hall.

“Come on,” Sylvie said, pulling her away from the noise. Trying to ignore the shouts that seemed to come from every direction, Sylvie made a beeline for the nondescript door. Almost automatically, her hand found the latch of the door and in one fluid move, she pulled it open and closed her and Jules inside.

A tiny, rectangular window just inches shy of the ceiling let in fragments of light that gave shape to the tiny room. Crates climbed up over both their heads in erratic stacks framed in old rags and debris. It was the kind of place that was dismissed at first sight—just as Sylvie had done when she first saw it—and that made it a perfect place for someone who did not want to be found.

“Help me move this,” Sylvie said, grabbing on to a stack of boxes at the base. “If we pull it out just a little, there will be space for you to hide behind it.” Jules hesitation was gone and she immediately reached down and together they moved the cumbersome stack making a small cubby in the back corner of the little room. “There,” Sylvie said, gesturing at the tiny space. “Get in and don’t come out for anyone.”

Jules nodded fearfully and ducked inside. She crouched low against the wall and drew her knees into her chest, hugging them tightly. Satisfied, Sylvie began turning the boxes at odd angles to conceal Jules inside. “What are you doing?” Jules said, alarmed. “Aren’t you staying here with me? You can’t leave me here alone!” As she spoke, Jules rose to her feet, blocking Sylvie’s work.

“I can’t stay here,” Sylvie said, shaking her head. “They are here for me. They won’t stop looking until I am found.” Sylvie had listened in on enough conversations between her father and his advisor, Alistar Stone, to at least have some sense about how the Elite would proceed.

They had come in the night and would have searched the room where she slept first. They would have had that information already and on any other night, they would have been accurate. Only tonight, she had not been where she was expected. It had given her an edge, but it would only be a minor setback. They would keep looking and Sylvie knew she didn’t have long before they were successful.

She didn’t have any time to waste.

Sylvie positioned the last few boxes walling Jules away from prying eyes and then stepped back to view her work. If the Elite soldiers were searching on sight alone, it would be enough. But if their search took too long then Sylvie knew they would take any means necessary to find her and her efforts will have been in vain. She couldn’t keep them waiting—at least not for much longer.

“I have to go,” she whispered to Jules through her makeshift fortress. “I have something I have to do.” She wanted to tell Jules her plan, but echoes of the girl’s own warning kept her confession at bay. If Jules was right and the OPTICS were capable of forcing the truth out of anyone, then Sylvie did not want to plant any truth for them to find.

Turning the knob of the door, Sylvie was careful not to make a sound as she peered down the hall looking for black clad bodies and the tiny glow of OPTICS that set Elite apart from Rebel. The sounds of chaos that had sent the girl’s into hiding had moved further away, so Sylvie took the window given to her. With one last glance at Jules, she took to the hall and headed straight for the clinic.

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