We finally, finally, took a break.
A brief recess after hours of exhausting, stressful conversations about next steps and blueprints and something about stealing a plane. It’s too much. Even Nazeera, with all her intel, couldn’t give me any real assurance that Juliette—sorry, Ella—and Warner were still alive, and just thechancethat someone out there might be torturing them to death is, like, more than my mind can handle right now. Today has been a shitstorm of shit. A tornado of shit. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know whether to sit down and cry or set something on fire.
Castle said he’d brave his way down to the kitchens to see about scrounging up some food for us, and that was the best news I’d heard all day. He also said he’d do his best to placate the soldiers for just a little longer—just long enough for us to figure out exactly what we’re going to do next—but I’m not sure how much he can do. It was badenough when J got shot. The hours she spent in the medical wing were stressful for the rest of us, too. I really thought the soldiers would revolt right then. They kept stopping me in the halls, yelling about how they thought she was supposed to beinvincible, that this wasn’t the plan, that they didn’t decide to risk their lives for aregularteenage girl who couldn’t take a bullet and goddammit she was supposed to be some supernatural phenomenon, something more than human—
It took forever to calm them down.
But now?
I can only imagine how they’ll react when they hear what happened at the symposium. It’ll be mutiny, most likely.
I sigh, hard.
“So you’re just going to ignore me?”
Nazeera is standing inches away from me. I can feel her, hovering. Waiting. I still haven’t said anything. Still haven’t turned around. It’s not that I don’t want to talk— I think I might, sort of, want to talk. Maybe some other day. But right now I’m out of gas. I’m out of James’s jokes. I’m fresh out of fake smiles. Right now I’m nothing but pain and exhaustion and raw emotion, and I don’t have the bandwidth for another serious conversation. I really don’t want to do this right now.
I’d nearly made my escape, too. I’m right here, right in front of my door. My hand is on the handle.
I could just walk away, I think.
I could be that kind of guy, a Warner kind of guy. Ajackass kind of guy. Just walk away without a word. Too tired, no thank you, don’t want to talk.
Leave me alone.
Instead, I slump forward, rest my hands and forehead against the closed bedroom door. “I’m tired, Nazeera.”
“I can’t believe you’re upset with me.”
My eyes close. My nose bumps against the wood. “I’m not upset with you. I’m half asleep.”
“You weremad. You were mad at me for having the same ability as you. Weren’t you?”
I groan.
“Weren’t you?” she says again, this time angrily.
I say nothing.
“Unbelievable. That is the most petty, ridiculous,immature—”
“Yeah, well.”
“Do you know how hard it was for me to tell you that? Do you have any idea—” I hear her sharp, angry huff. “Will you at least look at me when I’m talking to you?”
“Can’t.”
“What?” She sounds startled. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“Can’t look at you.”
She hesitates. “Why not?”
“Too pretty.”
She laughs, but angrily, like she might punch me in the face. “Kenji, I’m trying to be serious with you. This is important to me. This is the first time in my whole life I’ve evershown other people what I can do. It’s the first time I’ve ever interacted with other people like me. Besides,” she says, “I thought we decided we were going to be friends. Maybe that’s not a big deal to you, but it’s a big deal to me, because I don’t make friends easily. And right now you’re making me doubt my own judgment.”
I sigh so hard I nearly hurt myself.
