Read Online The Smaller Evil by Stephanie Kuehn - Free Book Online Page B

was being swallowed up and subsumed into a ring of luminescence. A symbol of protection, perhaps. Or containment. Arman wasn’t sure which word best described the act of Quarantine.
    Either way, he moved as he was meant to. He had no choice in the matter. While the group surrounding him was determined in their silence, it was clear that this was how they were going to hike back down the mountain—with them herding and him obeying.Arman didn’t think he much liked this turn of events. Not one bit.
    But you can do it
, he told himself, and that’s what propelled him forward. This was just another test. Another way to prove his strength. And while Arman didn’t care for tests or any evaluation of his merit, he understood the pragmatism of it all. Otherwise how would anyone know what he was capable of?
    Least of all, himself.

9
    â€œTELL US WHY YOU DON’T belong.”
    The words hung in the cool night air. Startled, Arman glanced over at the woman on his left who’d spoken them. She wasn’t anyone he recognized, but she was one of the people gripping a thin candle sleeved by a Dixie cup meant to catch any dripping wax. She held the candle low, by her waist, so that her face was hidden in shadows.
    That’s when Arman realized the woman was speaking to
him.
    â€œWait, what?” he asked.
    â€œOn Echo Rock. You said you don’t belong here. Tell us why.”
    Us?
Arman looked around. Saw pairs of eyes watching him closely. Not Beau’s, though. The circle had shifted somewhat—their arms now unlinked—but Beau still walked at the front. Always the leader. Arman could only make out his back. His square shoulders.
    Those strange flowy clothes.
    â€œWhy, I don’t know why,” said Arman.
    â€œSure you do,” called another voice. “You said it, didn’t you?”
    â€œTell us,” insisted a third. This from a man on Arman’s right.
    Arman blinked. “I really
don’t
know. That’s the truth. I guess—I guess I just feel like anytime there’s the potential for something good in my life,I fuck it up. So I don’t belong anywhere. Not anywhere I want to be.”
    â€œTell us what you fuck up,” the man said, and there was something in his tone that felt like an affirmation of Arman’s guilt. Of his inevitable fucked-up-ed-ness.
    â€œ
Everything
,” he said. “My family. My social life. The basketball team I went out for in eighth grade. A church group I tried joining in tenth. Even coming here. I mean, all I ever want is to feel a part of something. Instead I’m always the piece that doesn’t fit.”
    â€œHow’d you fuck up your family?” another voice asked, but Arman couldn’t see who it was.
    â€œI fucked up by being born,” he mumbled.
    â€œBullshit!” someone behind him called out.
    â€œNo self-pity,” shouted another. “Everyone your age says that. You’re not special.”
    â€œBe honest,” the first woman told him firmly. The one with the low, drippy candle.
    Arman’s throat went dry. Was there a point to all this? Was he supposed to feel like he was on the verge of passing out or throwing up on his shoes? If that was the case, well, then things were going just great. And he wasn’t
lying
. His birth was the unfortunate glue that had kept his parents together long after they should have been apart. Those were the years that broke his mother; left her estranged from her family and more bitter than ever when the inevitable split did come. “Fine. For starters, my mom doesn’t like me. She divorced my dad when I was nine and got remarried to a guy who hates my guts. He treats her like crap. In return she treats me pretty crappy, and honestly, I do the same to her.”
    â€œThat’s it?” the woman asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I’m kind of moody. And I’m anxious a lot.”
    â€œSo your