Page 27 of All the way home

By their last year of high school, all it really meant was that the pressure gauge had been spiked for a long time without her even realizing it.

Their first real fight had rent her world asunder. Overnight, her world unbalanced.

The fight had been about Sahar.

After Oscar and Siobhan had graduated, Rena had been utterly—and suddenly—unmoored. Then, partway through October, as an answer to a prayer Rena hadn’t dared utter aloud, she’d found a new friend in Sahar. Suddenly, she had someone to sit with at lunch. Someone who didn’t find her bluntness unnerving, and whom she found endlessly fascinating.

Often, after school, they would sit on the back steps while Rena waited for Lucas and Sahar waited for her mom. They had nothing in common except that Rena’s soccer practice ended at the same time Sahar’s theatre rehearsals did, and while they waited she would try to make Rena laugh, because she considered her the ultimate challenge. Her poker face wasn’t a show either. It just never occurred to her to laugh at jokes that weren’t funny.

Sahar’s were funny.

The day of the fight, she’d been laughing when Lucas pulled into the parking lot. Maybe he’d brought his mood with him, or maybe it had descended when she had forgotten to kiss him hello.

Maybe not.

When Lucas was happy, his eyes smiled even if his mouth didn’t. When he wasn’t, the smile in his eyes snuffed out.

For two silent minutes while he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main stretch, she waited for him to tell her what was wrong. It took her another two and a half to realize that he might not be planning to talk to her about it at all.

“Are you upset?” She turned her head toward the window so she wouldn’t have to see his face.

Lucas made a small noise, almost like a squawk. Now his eyes were definitely not smiling. Ordinarily, when he was in a bad mood about something, he’d at least assure her it wasn’t about her.

He wasn’t saying a word.

It was harder to look at him when his eyes weren’t smiling. Especially when it was probably her fault, even if she didn’t know why.

Yet.

“Tell me if you’re upset,” she urged.

Once, Kieran had told her that asking straight-up what was bothering him felt like an attack, so now she always started like this: Tell me.

“Have I done something?”

Lucas let out a low breath, then, at last, muttered, “It’s not you. It’s Sahar.”

Rena waited for him to explain.

He did not.

“What about Sahar?” she asked at last, cautiously.

“You and Sahar.” Lucas’s jaw tightened.

Narrowing her eyes, Rena asked, “Excuse me?”

With an exasperated sigh, Lucas ran a hand through his hair. “Never mind.”

“No,” she said, her own irritation rising. “You can’t say that and then say never mind. What’s Sahar done?”

“Nothing,” Lucas insisted.

“Is there something I need to know?”

Lucas steeled his jaw.

“Lucas.”