“She doesn’t get to define you.” I push on. “Not unless you let her. I can show you proof, not just about this, but about all the other women she’s done this to. There are others, and you’ll be next. Let us help you.”
She swallows, looking away. “I?—”
“Dani!” Ralston’s voice cuts through the air, interrupting whatever she was going to say.
When I turn, she’s looking directly at me rather than Dani, her eyes sharp as ever. Her smile is wide, all too-white teeth.
“There you are,” she says, walking toward us, eyes back on Dani as if I’ve gone invisible. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Dani straightens as Ralston’s hand closes on her arm. “I got mixed up in the crowd.”
Ralston’s manicured fingers twitch on Dani’s skin before she releases her. “I need you by my side at these things; I told you. You’re the only one who keeps me from losing my head most days.” She casts a laugh back toward the onlookers, moving between us and cutting me off from Dani’s vision completely. “Besides, I want you to look at this piece. I’d like to consider it for a permanent installation and wanted to get your opinion.” She looks toward the crowd again. “Dani has such a discerning eye. I trust her implicitly.”
Like that, the warmth in their gazes once reserved for only Ralston is shared with Dani. She’s welcomed into the fold, even if there’s a bit of jealousy hiding in the wings.
Ralston pulls her away with a quick, cutting glance in my direction. Then, when there’s enough distance between us, she stops, turning back. Her eyes flash, staring at me as if I’m a stain, then quickly warm to mock surprise. “Oh, Lila! I didn’t realize you were still here. Someone told me you had to leave. Have you finally decided to open yourself up to the world of art? I know that was never your thing.” She clicks her tongue with pity. “You much preferred rage-typing blog posts, if I remember correctly.” There’s a quick shrug of her shoulder. “Then again, we all have our places in this war. I’m glad you’re here.”
People are watching our interaction with concern, no one seeming sure what to make of it. A polite ripple of uncomfortable laughter passes around the room.
I swallow hard. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy art,Althea. Our tastes just differ. I always preferred truth to fiction, but that was never really your forte, was it?”
Her smile flickers, becomes more of a grimace. A growl. They can’t see the change, but I do. “Time and place, dear. Sometimes we all just need to escape.” She turns back to Dani. “Let’s walk, shall we? It’s right over here.”
Dani looks at me once, and I nod. She doesn’t need my permission to walk away, but I know she doesn’t have a choice right now. She needs to go, even if it stings. Even if I almost had a chance to bring her to my side.
As she disappears into the crowd with Ralston, the swarm moving to look at a sculpture of Ralston made up of many manicured hands, I feel a thread in my chest snap.
I stand there for longer than I should, watching, surrounded by poetry written in her honor, art paying tribute to her wisdom, videos of women’s silhouettes shaped into her quotes as if by ahypnotist. Everyone here is sure they’re seeing the truth. Every artist honoring her believes she is what she promises to be.
I press a hand to my stomach and force out a breath through the nausea. I’m outnumbered and overpowered, but I’m not giving up. I can’t.
When Ralston meets my eyes from across the room, almost by accident, there’s an understanding there. A warning.
She won’t let me win, but she can’t stop me from trying.
For now, that’s enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Back in my dorm, Mom finally calls.
“Hey, honey, sorry I’ve been MIA. Everything’s fine, I’ve just been swamped here. How are you? How’s the beach?”
I swallow down my guilt. “Oh, that’s okay. Everything’s fine here. Are you okay? How’s Dad?”
She sighs. “Oh, you know me. Dad’s fine, too. Do you want to talk to him?” Before I can answer, I hear her shuffling across the house. “Tom, honey, Lila’s on the phone. Say hi.”
“Lila.” Dad’s voice is a burst of sunshine. “How are you? It’s so good to hear from you, honey.”
“Hey, Dad. I’m good. Just trying to get these last chapters written. I miss you.”
“Chapters?” He takes a deep breath. “Are you writing a book?”
“Yes, remember,” Mom answers for me in the background. “That’s why she’s at the beach. Finishing her book. We talked about that.”
“Oh. That’s right. That’s right.” His voice goes soft, and he clears his throat. “Could I get some water?”
“It’s right here,” Mom tells him.
