Liar, Andrew wanted to say.
“But,” Bryce conceded, sounding almost magnanimous, as if he was sharing a coveted secret, “I think it’s sick that he’s screwing you, but still led Dove on. She could’ve dated me. I was going to ask her.”
Andrew just stared at him. “She would never—” He broke off.
“She would have,” Bryce snapped. “He’s over there with some gross twin fetish and I would’ve been perfect for her. Would’ve looked out for your sorry ass, too. You should choose your friends better, Perrault, then maybe you wouldn’t be hanging out with a murderer who’s the reason your sister—”
Andrew shoved him.
Bryce’s shoulders thumped against the wall and genuine surprise crossed his face, as if he didn’t expect Andrew’s feather-fine bones had the strength—or the courage. Andrew stood there breathing too fast, blood and forest mud clotted under his tongue, and he let anger pool in all his hollow places. He couldfeel it against his teeth, his hate for this boy, this moment, this school. He was about to lose everything.
He was losing himself.
“Touch me again,” he said, “and I’ll kill you.”
Bryce glanced down at his blazer, where Andrew’s hand had landed for the shove, and he stared at the thin layer of moss clinging to the cloth. He tried to brush it off, his surprise deepening to dismay when it clung on.
“What the…” But when he looked up, Andrew was striding away, holding tight to his notebook.
He refused to check his own hand, but he could feel it.
Moss flourished along the underside of his skin.
TWENTY-NINE
The doorknob didn’t work, or maybe it was Andrew who was broken. He dropped his dorm key for the third time. Electricity bit at his skin, and he felt hyperaware of everything; his book bag digging into his shoulder, the skin over his ribs stretched so tight it hurt, Thomas hovering at his back. They hadn’t had a chance to talk yet after Andrew’s trip to the principal’s office since Thomas had been in detention for skipping assignments. But what was there to say?
I’m leaving you alone alone alone—
Andrew couldn’t tell him.
It was already late, dusk crawling across the sky while the forest stretched shadows right up to the school. Wickwood should have canceled the Halloween dance. Everyone should be behind locked doors tonight. Instead, the dorm thrummed with the chaotic laughter and shouts of boys getting ready for the party, ducking in and out of their rooms in tuxedos or ridiculous costumes.
“Just tell me what she said. Are you in trouble?” Thomas snatched the key from Andrew and opened their door.
Andrew stumbled in, book bag slipping from his shoulder and thumping to the floor. He wanted to dig fingernails into his skin andpeel, but instead he checked his phone and found three missed calls from his father. He threw it on his cluttered desk.
He couldn’t leave Thomas alone with the monsters, with stories he couldn’t write, with no way to end this because Andrew had never told him the truth of what monsters demanded. They couldn’t be apart; their lungs would be torn out from inside each other and they would suffocate.
Andrew’s voice sounded rusted. “Bryce told the principal he saw me in the forest.”
“What? He couldn’t have. We could get expelled for—”
“I KNOW.” Andrew slammed their door and Thomas leaped out of the way before it caught his fingers.
He looked startled, but said nothing as Andrew stripped off his blazer and fell face-first onto his bed. He needed to think, but his head throbbed and black spots kept nipping the edge of his vision.
Slowly, Thomas crept over and perched on the edge of the mattress.
Andrew stuffed a pillow over his face. “We have to tell someone about the monsters.”
“If we say monsters are attacking the school, we’ll sound insane. No one would believe us, literally no one.” He yanked the pillow off Andrew’s face. “You look really shaken up.”
Andrew rubbed at his eyes, so desperately, achingly tired it was all he could do not to tug Thomas to lie down next to him so they could survive Halloween like this—tangled in each other’s arms like two licorice twists.
“I’m just tired,” he said.
Thomas leaned in suddenly, an arm planted on either side of Andrew, their faces close enough they could eat each other’s words right out of their mouths. He ran a thumb over Andrew’sbottom lip and then traced down to the fluttering pulse in his neck. “Someday do you… want to be kissed?”
