Made You Up: Chapter 48–Epilogue

“Stay here. Are you listening to me? Do not leave this car.” I fixed her with my most searing gaze. “Do. Not. Leave. This. Spot. Got it?”

Inside, the smell of mustiness coated everything like a thick layer of bad cologne.

“Look at all the dresses,” Charlie crooned.

There was a large wooden desk on the far side of the room, strewn with papers and more pictures in frames.

I pressed a hand to my stomach and sucked in air, but bile rose to block it.

“Are you real?” I asked.
“Yes, I am,” he said resolutely. He pressed my hand harder to his chest. His heart beat like a drum.

Miles sighed. His glasses were askew on his nose. I didn’t want to wake him up, but I also didn’t want to be alone.

Celia hurried into the gym, her lank brown hair hanging around her pallid face.

Celia hurried into the gym, her lank brown hair hanging around her pallid face.

Miles scrutinized her. “About what?”

He laced his fingers together with a benign smile. “I think we’re finally seeing eye to eye.”

My head had been caught in a vise.

The light in the room was low, but enough for me to make out the ridge of my legs and feet underneath the covers of a bed and the dark alcove around the corner, where the door would be.

A white-noise machine hummed in the corner, and a sterile smell crept up on me.

On the other side of me, a figure swaddled in a blanket slept soundly in a chair that looked like it had been designed by a torture expert.

So finally he decided he’d immortalize her by dropping the same scoreboard on her that killed her mom.

I searched for a word for what I was feeling, for this mix of relief and exultation and serenity, but I couldn’t think of anything.

I didn’t know if he understood anything I said through my blubbering, but his arm tightened around me and he kissed the side of my forehead.

Whatever the reason, they let me into the school for graduation. There were a few stipulations, of course.

Because of the McCoy ordeal and the school board looking to avoid any further mishaps, I wasn’t allowed out of the car without wrist restraints.

It was Mr. Gunthrie who filled Mr. McCoy’s vacated principal’s seat; his gray suit made him look like a golem.

“I guess I’ll start with a bit of a cliche,” he said.

Behind him, Mr. Gunthrie’s face turned a mottled hue of purple.

Then he said, “For a long time, I had nothing to lose. I was that dangerous creation. I know most of you probably think I’m a jerk”—he glanced at me again—“and you’re right, I am. Not the kind that vandalizes cars and kills pets, but I am an arrogant, pretentious jerk. I do think I’m better than all of you, because I’m smarter. I’m smarter and I’m more determined to do what I set out to do.”

His eyebrow shot up. “What, did you think you were going to get rid of me that easily? You should know by now—I’ve got the tenacity of a cockroach.”