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Back Scars Like Wings Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. Acknowledgments
  54. About the Author
  55. What’s next onyour reading list?

Smooth hair: check. Quick glance at their butts: check. Lean in for spinach-in-the-teeth investigation: check. Girls like that never have dental meal remnants. Karma is too kind.

They’re on their way offstage when my phone vibrates loudly with another Cora text. The girl who called me Freddy Krueger stops and turns, and for a split second, her eyes catch mine through the slit. I tug my legs closer as she whips her long black hair around, with her finger pressed to her lips.

“Guys.” She points in my direction as she whispers. “We’re not alone.”

My knees protest as I pull them all the way to my chest, praying she leaves. This can’t be how they find me, the weirdo going all Phantom of the Opera on my first “normal” day.

The “it” hiding backstage.

The girl’s black hair fills my line of vision through the gap as she walks toward me.

“Hey, who’s back there? It’s not nice to eavesdrop.”

I bite my lip as my knee splits open. Blood soaks through my pants.

Please. Not like this.

“Let it go, Kenz. It’s probably some terrified freshman.”

Yes. Let it go. Let me go.

Her footsteps stop right in front of me, her shoes nearly touching mine beneath the black divide. She grips the curtain, sending ripples across my fabric shield, and I watch helplessly as she yanks it away.

6

The girl pulls the curtain all the way back, revealing me, my legs pulled tight against my chest, my face no doubt as surprised as hers.

“Oh,” she says, covering her mouth. “We didn’t know it was you.”

I continue to hold my legs, mostly because I don’t know what else to do. Walk out like it’s totally normal that I was back here, desperately trying to disappear into the wall?

I look away from her, tilting my head too late. A few tears burst the bounds of my droopy eyes, making this pathetic moment even more hideous.

The girl with black hair lets the curtain fall back between us. I hear them confer with each other, half whispering, half giggling in a choppy, nervous way.

“You say it,” one girl whispers, prompting another one to yell, “Sorry. Welcome to Crossroads High!”

They scurry off the stage like it’s on fire. I wait until their laughter and footsteps fade before lowering my legs.

My right knee screams at me as I pull back my compression garments. Blood outlines the baby-pink square of skin covering my joint. Dr. Sharp will not be happy I busted up his handiwork.