Her eyes never came up. “Yep.”
I knew that move too, and she was going to be disappointed if she thought it’d phase me. “Me too. Guess we’ve got something in common. Mine is Lumen.”
She pursed her lips. “Weird name.”
“Not as weird as yours,Soleil,” Kaitlyn cut in from where she was tearing up the pizza boxes for her graffiti stencil art projects. “That’s her name, if you can believe it,” Kaitlyn continued.
“It’s a beautiful name,” I said firmly, giving Kaitlyn a look that I hoped conveyed my disapproval of her teasing.
Soleil sighed, turning her head away. Her voice was so quiet I almost missed her next words. “My mom was probably drunk when she came up with it.”
It was hard not to reach over to squeeze her hand, so I said gently, “I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“Considering she’s a fucking alcoholic,” Soleil snapped, “yeah, she probably was.”
Great. I’d really stuck my foot in my mouth with that one. Better to change the subject and leave the heavy lifting to the therapists.
Which was why I didn’t bother to mention that there was a good chance my alcoholic father had indulged in a few too many before helping my mom choose my name.
I went with a different angle. “Our names actually have more in common than just being unique.”
Soleil frowned, but for the first time she looked up at me. She had pretty hazel eyes with little gold streaks in them like shooting stars. I had a feeling that if she smiled, she could light up a room.
“Soleilis French for ‘sun,’” I explained. “A ‘lumen’ is a unit of luminous flux. That is, visible light.” When she didn’t reply, I kept going, “And since the sun gives off a lot of visible light, the names are connected.”
She actually seemed interested, even if she was frowning.
“What’s your thing, Soleil?” I asked. “Writing, drawing, painting?”
She lifted a sullen shoulder. “I sketch.”
“Awesome. There’s a pencil right here–”
“With knives,” she finished, smirking up at me. “Don’t suppose you got any ofthosearound here?”
I wasn’t a psychologist, but I wasn’t some naïve, sheltered college student who’d be easily shocked by whatever she threw at me. It wasn’t my place to lecture or anything like that. I was a volunteer. If I thought she was a danger to herself or others, I’d talk to Brie, but my gut said that wasn’t the case here. She was testing boundaries.
“I can find you a couple butter knives if you think they’ll cut it.” I kept my voice dry, making sure she understood that I’d understood her, and I’d chosen each word intentionally.
To my surprise, she didn’t groan or roll her eyes. She didn’t even curse at me. Instead, something sparked in her hazel eyes. “What a cutting sense of humor,” she drawled, cocking one eyebrow in what was clearly a challenge.
“I take a stab at it now and then,” I shot back.
“You’re a real cut-up.”
“Don’t pretend I’m not a sheer delight.” I couldn’t stop the grin when I saw the corners of her mouth twitching as she suppressed a smile.
“You guys are fuckin’ losers,” Darius snorted.
I wanted to reprimand him about his language, but he was sixteen and telling a teenager to stop swearing would only make him do it more. The same went for the insults. The best thing to do was ignore him, so he didn’t get the attention he wanted.
“Darius needs to cut it out.” I elbowed Soleil, wanting to get back to our banter, but something had changed. Her smile was gone, replaced by the scowl I’d first seen.
“I’m done,” she muttered. “Just give me a fucking pencil. I’ll draw some zombies and shit.”
Dammit. I was so close to getting her to open up.
“Zombies, huh? That’s pretty cool.” I handed her a pencil. She took it but didn’t reply.
