Her eyes met Andrew’s and she immediately cut off. Her smile came thin, barely polite, then she continued downstairs after her colleague.
Behind him, the principal cleared her throat.
Andrew turned slowly, his cheeks burning.
“Why, Mr. Perrault,” Principal Grant said, unimpressed, “I believe you are missing first period.”
“I… lost something?” Andrew said. “I, um, a pencil.”
Next to her, Thomas had been attempting to control his scowl, but at this, he raised one eyebrow at Andrew. So it was abad lie, fine. But Andrew wasn’t exactly well practiced at sneaking about.
“Despite my better judgment,” the principal said, “I will believe you were not lurking at doors where you don’t belong. This meeting contained private information, and I won’t have gossip in my halls, Mr. Perrault.”
Andrew nodded far too fast.
The principal turned back to Thomas. “I’ll inform your aunt, but I’m sure there’s no cause to worry. Your parents are… eccentric, as we are all aware. I’m sure we’ll hear from them before the day’s out.”
Thomas said nothing.
The principal gestured for him to go downstairs before casting Andrew a stern look. “You may leave.” The grim set of her mouth saidGet going or get detention, so Andrew shot after Thomas.
They fell into step as they headed for English, but Andrew felt so shaken he couldn’t even remember where the classroom was. Thomas still wouldn’t look at him.
Kid is lying—
“What’s going on?” Andrew’s voice barely passed a whisper. “Is this what you were going to tell me about?”
“Nothing. You heard them. My parents are weird about their art. It’s probably not even blood. I-I-I don’t know. I don’t—” He broke off and tugged at his bottom lip.
Andrew nearly tripped. Thomas never stumbled over his words. He also never lied to his best friend.
The corridor was empty, classroom doors closed. They’d be marked tardy before the school year had taken its first properbreath. Andrew started to say as much, but Thomas snatched his wrist and dragged him into a small alcove.
They pressed close to the thick velvet drapes by a huge window, dust motes dancing against the glass. The world felt too quiet. Too heavy.
Every breath seemed to tremble in Thomas’s lungs. “It’s not going to be like last year.” Something desperate shone in his eyes. “Nothing bad will happen to you. I swear.”
Bad things were happening to Thomas, not Andrew.Hewas the one who needed protecting right now. Andrew couldn’t help noticing that not one adult had asked Thomas if he was all right.
“I’ll sort this out,” Thomas said. “I don’t want you making yourself sick over it. I’ll fix everything. Do you believe me?”
If they stood any closer together, they could fit into each other’s skin.
“I want you to say it.” Thomas’s voice steadied. He could pin Andrew to the wall with the way he shaped those words.
“I believe you,” Andrew whispered.
THREE
The day would never end.
The whispers unraveled Andrew the most. Furtive glances. A conversation cut off as he slid into his desk. That crawling feeling at the back of his neck that warned him someone was staring.
Thomas ignored everything with a deliberate stoicism that Andrew couldn’t muster, and their packed schedules left no time to talk. Dove’s AP classes kept her far away from both of them, so Andrew was left with a mouthful of pins instead of answers about why she was avoiding Thomas.
By the time dinner arrived, he felt too sick to be hungry.
Stepping into the dining hall meant being pounded by a wave of chaos. Every room in Wickwood was nothing if not antiquated and stately, but the dining hall rarely seemed under such control. Hundreds of voices tangled with the clatter of plates and cutlery. Mealtimes had been broken into two halves and the seniors dined second. It meant less supervision—they were supposedly “responsible”—and therefore meant way more noise.
