His hands slide out of mine, and then he strides through the mesh of swaying bodies.
21
Spite and Stones Can Hurt Your Bones
I’m hurt but mostly mad.
Before I even realize that I’m walking, I’m halfway across the gym. The doors swing shut. I pick up my pace, knee burning from my mad dash in sky-high heels.
When I push through the doors, I find Ten trudging down the yellow-lockered hallway.
My heels click on the linoleum. If he hears them, he doesn’t turn. “Ten!”
He pauses but keeps his back to me. “Angie, please. Don’t push me.”
I finally manage to catch up. “You just went Jekyll and Hyde on me. The least you can do is tell me why.” I circle him until we’re face-to-face. “What is it about Mona Stone’s music that sets you off?”
He palms his hair. “Just leave it alone. I’ll be transferring schools soon, and—”
It feels like he’s just slapped me. “You’re leaving?”
“I’m applying to a boarding school outside of Boston. Hopefully I’ll be out of here before the end of the term.”
I can still taste his breath on my lips. “Because of Mona Stone?” My voice has never sounded flatter. Emotions create melody, and right now, I feel numb inside.
“Angie—”
“No. Don’tAngieme.” My pink glass necklace casts jeweled pinpricks of light over his wary face. “The least you can do is explain why Mona Stone triggers so much anger in you.”
He eyes the door next to us that leads into a deserted classroom. Is he planning on hiding inside and waiting me out? He clasps one of my wrists and tows me into the moonlit room. My heart erupts with heartbeats. Once the door snicks shut, Ten releases me and paces the narrow space between the whiteboard and the teacher’s desk, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black suit trousers.
After what feels like an eternity, he stops his frenzied prowling. “Why do you think we changed our name?”
“I’m not sure… witness protection? Oh my God.” My eyes go very wide. “Did Mona Stone threaten your family or something?”
He barks a laugh as dark as the sky beyond the windows.
I cross my arms. “I’m guessing that’s not it.”
“Nope. Not even close.”
As though the leopard spots have penetrated my skin and altered my nature, I growl at him. “Can you just tell me already? I’ve never seen someone get so angry at a singer.” I sense I’m close to the truth. A couple more swings, and it’ll pour out of Ten like candy from a piñata. “At first, I thought it was music in general, but you don’t hate all music, you just hatehermusic.”
Shadows tarnish the gilded brightness of Ten’s eyes.
“Did your sister ask Mona to be her mentor, and Mona turned her down? Is that—” I stop talking.
Mona Stone has children.
A boy and a girl.
I sweep my gaze up and down Ten’s face. At first, he keeps his eyes leveled on mine, but then, slowly, he lowers them to his patent loafers. I’m not sure whether to take a step toward him or away.
I feel like I’ve just trespassed into a room I have no right or desire to be in.
Mona went through a terrible divorce. Her husband, a big-shot lawyer, proved to the court she was unfit to be a parent, and then, to add insult to injury, he had her stripped of visitation rights.
“Your last name… it was Stone.” It’s not a question. I just need to hear myself say it.
