“I’d like to get back to the original topic,” Warner says stiffly. “Stop trying to change the subject. We have important things to discuss—”
Kenji ignores this, adding, “Warner loves me, too,” around a bite of popcorn. “Sometimes it’s a little too much, you know? It’s alwaysOh my God, Kenji, you’re amazing, you’re my best friend, don’t tell Juliette but I love you the most—”
“How is it that every time you speak,” Warner cuts him off, “you have food in your mouth?”
“Don’t exaggerate because you’re jealous,” says Kenji. “If you want popcorn, all you have to do is ask.”
“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Warner counters icily. “You’re supposed to offer.”
“All right, you know what? I can’t even take you guys seriously right now,” I say. “This isn’t a real meeting. This is some kind of sabotaged slumber party—”
“It is by no means a slumber party,” Warner says, alarmed.
“And it’s not sabotaged,” Juliette adds, stifling a yawn. “Kenji and I are going to stay up late and watch old movies. You can join us if you like.” She shifts to sit cross-legged on the bed, her long brown hair cascading down her shoulders. She’s cradling her enormous baby bump with Kenji propped up beside her, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. They’re absolutely surrounded by junk food.
“The hell he can,” Kenji mutters. “He talks through all the good parts. And anyway, he needs to go, like, shave and shit. Shower a couple of times. Run around the block and release those pheromones. Get ready for romance.”
Warner raises an eyebrow at him. “If that’s what you do to get ready for romance, I can see why you’re single.”
Kenji pauses mid-chew, cocking his head at Warner. “You know what? Not all of us can have some kind of happily ever after the way you did, okay? The rest of us live in the real world, where the loves of our lives don’t quite love us enough, and it has nothing to do with how many times we shower. Or maybe it does. She wasn’t really clear on that point.”
“Kenji,” Juliette says softly. “You know it was more complicated than that—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says.“But, for the record, we, the people, do not appreciate having the past thrown in our faces. Especially not on movie night.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Warner says, his voice clipped.
Kenji shrugs. “I’ve made peace with it. Besides, I’m not alone in my misery.” He pops another piece of popcorn in his mouth. “Winston and I both got dumped years ago, and we’ve been happy being bitter ever since. In fact, we’ve decided to make ugly collages and use them to decorate our place. He’s going to gather up anything with Brendan’s handwriting on it and use it to papier-mâché a bunch of toilet rolls. I’m going to bang my head against the wall until it leaves an impression. We figure it’s finally time to put up some art in the living room.” He crunches some more. “Winston calls itdepressing chic.”
“Is this a joke?” Warner looks at Juliette, then Kenji. “I put up that drywall myself. We repainted those walls just last month—”
“Nazeera didn’t dump you,” I point out, pulled into this discussion against my will. “You know that. She just couldn’t stay here. She has to live on the other side of the world. Her people are there—”
“I know,” Kenji says, holding up a hand. “And look, I’m not bitter about it. We had a good run, but we’re rebuilding our world. I get it; we all have work to do. She needs to be in West Asia, and long distance is super hard. But she wanted to reconnect with her roots,her culture, her people.For an indefinite period of time.That’s called being dumped. That’s calledI’m probably going to marry some hot Arab dude and lose your number.Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Kenji—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” He says this with finality, and the room falls silent. Then Kenji points at me and says, “Anyway, for what it’s worth, I also think Warner’s idea is solid. This Rosabelle girl is”—he blows out a breath— “yeah, she’s, wow. You should absolutely pretend to best friend the girl who (a) murdered you, and (b) threw up all over you. The results will be adorable.”
I’m about to respond to this when Juliette cries out without warning, doubling over as she sucks in a sharp breath. Warner shoots upright, his eyes flaring with panic.
Shit.
James
Chapter 24
“I’m fine,” says Juliette, breathing out. Her eyes close as the pain recedes and she waves Warner down, still grimacing. “It’s fine. Really. I swear.”
There’s a collective tension in the room as we all watch her and wait. I study my older brother, the severe lines of his face. He’s been terrified for months.
Juliette, like me and Warner, was born into the arms of The Reestablishment; I didn’t know who my father was for a long time—Warner and I have different moms—but we’re all children of supreme commanders. The major difference was that Juliette’s parents were scientists, whereas my dad was strictly military. Juliette’s mom was the one who launched the experiment responsible for rewriting human DNA, generating preternatural powers for use as weapons by the regime. My dad was a unique monster, but Juliette’s parents were sadistic on a whole different level. They had kids for the sole purpose of experimentation, using their offspring as guinea pigs, building and breaking them down over and over in increasingly inhumane ways. The consequences eventually killed Juliette’s sister.
Juliette herself was never meant to bear children.
I fall back into my chair with a sigh. I look up at Warner,who’s standing, unmoving, by the matching chair beside me. “Are you sure you’re okay, love?” he says to his wife, thawing as he approaches her. He sits on the side of the bed, takes her hands. He presses his forehead to her temple, then whispers something in her ear.
Quietly, I hear her say, “The bleeding stopped a few hours ago,” and I turn away, not wanting to eavesdrop.
