Sam frowned. “They don’t botheryou, do they?”
“They try. Pick on the gay girl, right? It’s practically a sport to them.”
“I’ll talk to them.”
“I don’t need you to protect me, brother dear. I can take care of myself. And Gracie and Aoife, if it comes to that.”
She sounded so much like Toni that I smiled. “I wish I were as brave as you.”
“Don’t be brave,” Sam said. “Be smart.”
I picked up my mug and sat at my little table, waiting for my heart rate to slow. It was oddly soothing, watching Sam sell things from behind the register—Tayto Crisps and a liter carton of milk to a young woman in black tights, a Cadbury bar and a copy of theIrish Timesto an older gentleman, everything the same and subtly not-the-same as a convenience store in Kansas.
“You’re here a lot,” I said when there was a break in the line and he’d picked up his book again.
He looked up and winked. “Could say the same of you.”
I buried my blush in my mug, breathing in the milky sweetness and familiar scent of spices. “Because I like it here.”
“Ta.”
He didn’t say he liked it, I noticed. “It seems like a nice place to work.”
Fee snorted.
“It’s all right,” Sam said.
“Except the boss is thick as a plank,” Fee added.
“The boss?” I looked from her to Sam. “This is your place,” I realized. “Clery’s Newsagents. You’re...”
He nodded. “Sam Clery.”
“Fiadh Clery.” It sounded so pretty.FEE-uh.
“Dee Gale.”
I bit my lip as soon as the words were out. But what was the harm, really, in sharing my name? I was glad to be more than an anonymous crime statistic, an unidentified victim in one of Reeti’s mother’s stories. It felt good to be seen, to be recognized as a regular—the American girl in cowboy boots. Like I was reclaiming a little piece of myself or constructing a new identity.
Besides, there was no reason why Sam should associate me with the fictional Destiny Gayle. Just because he could quote Tennessee Williams didn’t mean he read Grayson Kettering.
But Dr.Ward did. She was probably showing Gray’s book around the faculty room right now.
The tea in my stomach turned to acid.
“Sure you’re all right?” Sam asked. “Need anything else?”
A new instructor.
I banished whatever expression he’d seen on my face. Smiled. “I’m good, thanks.”
Or I would be, as soon as I met with Dr.Norton.
—
I don’t quite understand.” Glenda Norton’s perfect brow pleated slightly. “Do you have a problem working with Dr.Ward?”
I winced. “Not a problem.” I didn’t want this wonderful woman to see me as a student with a problem. A problem student. Any kind of problem. “It’s only... I just wondered if it would be possible for me to change classes.”
