He was tired and it was easiest to just obey.
They sat down across from each other. Lana had drowned her plate in gravy and now set to executing her chicken as if it weren’t dead enough already.
“For future reference,” Lana said, “you can sit with me anytime.”
Dove must have put her up to this. Apparently Andrew looked so pathetic and lost when left to his own devices that even his twin was embarrassed.
Andrew started to ask Lana what Dove had told her, but she glanced over his head and sucked her teeth.
He followed her gaze and was almost thrown into his plate by an almighty backslap that could be considered a jovial greeting. Or assault.
Bryce Kane leaned between them, a hand squeezing Andrew’s shoulder. It looked friendly, but Lana gripped her fork like a weapon and Andrew thought his shoulder was about to break. The school had a zero tolerance policy against bullying, so Bryce had curated his image to be described ascharmingandenergetic. He was one of Wickwood’s best tennis players and a “delight to have in class.” He had wealthy parents on the school board, and kids flocked to pay tribute to his court—and he gotoff on making them grovel. He knew how to be terrible without looking like he was being terrible.
“Hey, it’s the goth and the Vegemite boy,” he said. “An unlikely couple. How was your summer, Andy? Eating shrimp on the barbie and banging kangaroos?”
“I’m a goth because I wear combat boots?” Lana said. “Wow. Original.”
Andrew shrugged off Bryce’s arm. No point reminding him that July was winter in Australia. “It was fine.”
“Weird seeing you without Dove.” Bryce scrubbed Andrew’s hair. “Or your girlfriend. Where’s Thomas Rye the Psycho these days? Heard he’s getting visits from cops already.”
Lana half rose from her seat, her face gone white with fury. “Back off.” The level of venom in her voice surprised even Andrew.
Bryce raised both hands in mock fear. “No need to get hysterical. Just trying to joke around, be chill and normal, you know?”
“You’re lucky Thomas isn’t here,” Lana snapped. “You’d have a broken face by now.”
Bryce had the gall to look annoyed. “And that’s why I’m not surprised the cops are already on him. Don’t even know why Wickwood let him back after everything that happened last year.”
He strode off, already shouting across the hall at a friend, who hollered back a greeting.
It took Lana a while to stop steaming and sit down. Protecting Andrew was Thomas and Dove’s job, so Lana stepping in should have felt condescending. Andrew should be mad, but atleast she hadn’t asked him if he was okay, or said anything cryptic about last year, or commented on his ruined hand.
Andrew ate half his roll before he noticed Lana watching.
He absently rubbed his healed hand against his cheek. “The scars aren’t that bad. I don’t know why everyone’s looking at me.”
“The problem isn’t the scars,” Lana said with clipped precision. “It’s that you smashed your hand through a mirror.”
He wished she wouldn’t say it aloud. It sounded blunt and ugly.
Lana went back to stabbing at her food. “They’ll stop staring eventually. Some senior will get into a ridiculous scandal in a few days and, boom, attention gone. They’re all a bunch of airheaded gnats.” She chewed, deliberate and angry. “But what was with those cops? It’s dayoneof school. Thomas is unbelievable.”
“What are people saying about it?” Andrew asked quietly.
“You don’t want to know, trust me.” Her voice turned to steel. “The thing you need to do this year is keep your head down and graduate. Survive. Don’t”—she pointed her fork at him—“let Thomas get into fights for you. Theywanta reason to expel him. If the gossip gets bad, come to me. I’ll help. Got it?”
Andrew felt a little dizzy. Lana and Thomas should’ve been friends, what with the way they were all teeth and knives out. Except Lana was a cold scalpel, and Thomas was a wild machete with blazing emotions he’d never learned how to moderate properly.
It still didn’t make sense that Lana had taken a sudden interest in Andrew. He was fine.
It had been one mirror.
One minute of lost control.
Andrew, a string drawn taught—
s n a p
