I clench my jaw.Stupid asshole spreading rumors about her.
June is a lot of things. She’s stubborn. She’s also genuine in a way that most people at this school aren’t. She earned her place in that exhibition. Anyone who stood in front of her paintings knows it. You can fake technique but you can’t fake the kind of feeling that lives in her work.
Someone is trying to take that from her, and I care. I want to find them. I want to find them and make them regret everthinkingof making that flyer.
I finish my joint quickly because I need it to calm me. I need to be numb and stop caring.
I can’t get involved. Being in the same class is already too much proximity. If I start fighting her battles, if I let myself get pulled into her orbit, bad things will follow. That’s the lesson I learned when I was nine years old.
I exhale and watch the smoke dissolve into the low ceiling.
No more thoughts. I just…
“Dude.” Carter’s voice pulls me back.
I blink at him, my eyes feeling dry. I’m sure they’re bloodshot. Maybe even completely red.
He’s looking at me over the top of his phone, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve been staring at the ceiling for like ten minutes. You okay?”
“I’m um…” I blink a few more times, trying to focus. Suddenly, a laugh works its way up my throat. “Contemplating the plasterwork.”
Carter smirks. “You’re stupid.”
I laugh more because I can’t stop myself now. Contemplating the plasterwork feels like the most insightful thing I’ve ever said. I lift the joint butt. “This is good shit.”
Carter and Aeron are both laughing at me. I don’t care; at least I’m not focusing on June.
Carter shakes his head and turns back to his phone and nudges Aeron’s shoulder. “Look at this. This cat is riding a Roomba.”
Aeron leans over to look. The corner of his mouth lifts.
I watch them from my end of the couch, the two of them angled toward the phone, Carter’s large frame leaning into Aeron’s thinner one. Carter does this naturally: draws people in.
Aeron, by contrast, is rigid, but I don’t think he knows it. His shoulders are pulled up slightly toward his ears. One foot is bouncing against the braided rug. His sleeves are pulled down past his wrists, his hands hidden, his posture folded inward like he’s trying to take up less square footage.
I’ve seen Aeron around the Belrose house for years, and I’ve noticed him the way you register a piece of furniture. Yeah, it’s an ugly thing to admit. But it’s true. I was so focused on keeping my distance from June that Aeron just got… overlooked I guess.
Now I feel like shit about that. It’s not the only reason I’ve been hanging out with him—I think he’s talented and I like his dark humor—but it’s part of it.
I watch his bouncing foot for a few minutes. My head is still floating in the clouds and I’m trying to bring it back down. I pull a fresh joint from my pocket and hold it out.
Aeron looks at it, then at me. His foot taps faster.
“You want a hit?” I ask. “Helps with anxiety.”
He snorts. “Who says I’m anxious?”
I glance down at his foot and he immediately stops. His eyes flick to Carter, who raises both palms in a don’t-look-at-me gesture, then back to the joint. “I’ve never...”
I laugh. “Hey. It’s not a test. You can say no.”
Carter adds, “Yeah, we won’t kick you out of the cool kid’s club for saying no to drugs.”
He relaxes a little, but he still hesitates. I shrug and start to move my hand back when he suddenly snatches the joint away. I toss him a lighter.
He holds it like a cigarette and lights it.
I lean forward and show him how to position his fingers. “Just take a small puff. Don’t try to be a hero.”
