“Wrong. You’re with us. We can talk about what happened later. Also,” she added, “you’re allowed to be around people who aren’t Thomas.”
But he didn’t know how.
If a monster climbed out of the rosebushes right now with teeth as long as knives, Andrew would let it bite deep into his ribs and tear him in half like a rotted plum.
He just wanted everything to
stop.
TWENTY-FIVE
He had a beast caged behind his ribs and it took all his energy to keep it there.
He needed a distraction. Focus on something else. He sat hunched in the back of the studio above the library, both hands spread on the carpet with the rough fibers scratching his skin.
Last time he’d felt like this, he put his hand through a mirror.
Around him, the studio thrummed with giddy chaos. Chairs and desks had been pushed back, and kids trickled in for the GSA club. Nothing seemed organized. Everyone was everywhere, talking and joking and gushing over the person who’d brought in delicately frosted cookies from culinary class. Ms. Poppy wore a huge scarf she’d either splattered with paint or had purposely used as her paintbrush—the latter seeming more likely since her brown skin was also smeared by turquoise and lavender. Instead of leading a discussion, she’d said, “Halloween has us, I think. Let’s discuss gender expression in clothing and you can all tell me about your costumes.”
Andrew kept waiting for someone to bulldoze over and ask why he was here. No one did. Apart from a few curious glances, he generated no response. Maybe Lana had warned them off, or maybe the entire school had always assumed he was gay.
Two deep purple Converse boots halted in front of him, and he squinted up at Lana.
She gave him a knotted frown. “I need to welcome some newbies. Are you okay here?”
“I’d rather leave,” Andrew said, voice low.
“Too bad. You’re stuck with me until we have a chance for a good long talk. Sit tight and wait.” She patted his head, but it felt like being affectionately thumped instead of consoled. Then she charged off to bark at the timid freshmen clustered by the door.
“Lana refuses to let anyone feel alone.”
Andrew pulled his legs to his chest as Chloe sat down beside him. She held two of the frosted cookies decorated with snowflakes so detailed they looked like they’d fallen fresh from the sky. He accepted one because he didn’t know how to sayThere’s a forest growing in my stomach, so I’m never hungry.
“She has resting murder face,” Chloe said, “but she’s aggressively friendly. This is my first year at Wickwood and she took one look at me and said, ‘We’re friends now. Keep up.’ She won’t let anyone get away with asking if we’re sisters, either, which they do all the time since we’re both Asian. As if we look anything alike. But I guess this is how she deals with everything? This school is intense and she puts up with a lot. When she’s upset, she cares for people in, like, angry revenge at the world for being crap.”
“She doesn’t have to keep scraping me off the floor.” He sounded washed-out. “You’re all busy and she doesn’t owe me anything…”
Chloe gave a sad smile. “She looks out for you because, well… you’re Dove’s brother.”
He thoughtand clearly falling apartmight be the unsaid conclusion. “You don’t have to sit with me if you don’t want…”He trailed off, finishing sentences having become an exhausting task.
“Um, please pretend you need me.” Chloe gave him a sheepish look. “I’m so,soshy, and if I sit in the circle, they’ll try to include me. They’re all nice, but I prefer to listen.”
“I get it.” He risked a sideways glance at her. “But shy people don’t make good friends. Neither of them can keep the conversation going.”
“Silence is okay with me,” Chloe said.
She ate her cookie and the quiet between them was companionable as they watched everyone descend into a passionate discussion about gender and clothing. Not everyone dressed up for Halloween, but most of the drama kids did. Lana had corralled the newcomers into the circle and made sure they had a place to sit. She already had her phone out to exchange numbers with them. When she glared over at Andrew and Chloe, he realized it wasn’t a reproach at them for being antisocial. She was just checking they were all right.
Crumbs from the uneaten cookie stuck to his cuff. He sighed and then noticed Chloe twisting her rubber bracelets. She wore six on each arm, the colors candy bright against her light brown skin.
She noticed him watching. “My therapist suggested wearing something I can fiddle with. I have, um… social anxiety? Probably obvious, I guess, but this helps.”
Andrew slowly flexed his bruised fist, the small cuts on his knuckles left by Thomas’s teeth. “When I get anxious, I hurt myself. Or other people.” He had no idea why he said it. He was never this honest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.
“Have you ever wanted to be something else so… so someone would still want you?”
