Page 18 of Wicked Brutal

“The face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you’re physically standing here but mentally you’ve left the country.”

“I don’t have that face.”

“You absolutely do.” She smiles when she says it, soft and easy, and some of the tightness in my chest loosens.

Penny’s been different since everything with Xander came apart and got put back together — not less herself, but more, like somebody went in and turned the lights back on. She’s got a folder of sheet music hugged against her chest, and Xander is about twenty feet down the corridor pretending to have a conversation with Danny while looking over Danny’s shoulder at her every eight seconds. I glance at him. He catches me. His eyes narrow. I look away before he decides I’ve committed some offense punishable by death.

“Your boyfriend is staring,” I tell Penny.

“My boyfriend stares.”

“Your boyfriend is terrifying.”

“He’s very sweet.” I just look at her. She looks back. We both start laughing. “Okay,” she allows. “He’s sweet to me.”

“Important clarification.”

“Extremely.” She shifts the folder under her arm, and her voice goes gentler. “You sure you’re okay?”

There it is again. The question. I’m getting better at answering it without hesitating. “Yeah. Just tired.” Lie three.

Penny studies me for one second too long. Then she lets it go, which is one of the reasons I love her. She notices. She doesn’t pry. “Okay. Come on,” she says, pushing off the lockers. “Cat says if we’re late to assembly again she’s making a schedule.”

Edgewood is louder in spring. Graduation’s close enough to be real now. College acceptances keep landing. Teachers have started talking about final projects and senior requirements, and somebody has decorated the student council board with paper flowers, like we’re all supposed to believe winter is finished because construction paper says so.

The hall is packed. Cat and Kaiden are near the stairs, Kaiden saying something into her ear that makes Cat roll her eyes even as she smiles, one hand braced against the wall beside her head, not touching her, but there’s something intimate about the shape they make anyway — their own little pocket in the middle of everybody else. Becca comes around the corner with Danny beside her, and he’s carrying her bag. She is absolutely capable of carrying her own bag. Danny knows it. Doesn’t matter. She says something and he bends his head toward her, because Becca talks quieter when she’s tired and Danny has apparently decided the rest of the world can adjust its volume around her.

Penny’s hand lifts. Xander sees it immediately, and his whole face changes — not much, but enough — and he leaves Danny mid-sentence to walk toward us.

And there it is. That little ache. Small enough that nobody sees it. Sharp enough that I feel it anyway.

All three of them get to exist. Not perfectly — God knows none of their relationships arrived gently — but they get to stand in hallways and look at each other. Xander can put his hand at Penny’s back. Danny can carry Becca’s bag. Kaiden can bend down and murmur into Cat’s hair while half the senior class flows around them. Nobody has to pretend they’re strangers. Nobody has to become cruel to keep the other person safe.

My eyes find Ryan before I mean for them to.

He’s coming out of the science wing with Iz. I know his walk — which is ridiculous, but I do. I know when he’s tired by the way his right shoulder sits half an inch lower. I know when he’s irritated because he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek right before he says something he’ll probably regret. I know which hand he puts in his pocket when he’s carrying the penny, because the little metal ring catches on the lining and he checks it without realizing he’s doing it. I know what he looked like last night, asleep with one hand spread across my stomach. I know what his mouth feels like against the back of my neck. I know he spent twenty minutes two nights ago arguing with something the size of a strawberry because our unborn child was, apparently, personally responsible for making me hate the smell of coffee.

Nobody here knows any of that. Here, he is Harrington. And Harrington doesn’t love me.

His gaze moves over the corridor — over Penny, over Xander, over me — and nothing changes. Not one single thing. It’s impressive, honestly. If I didn’t know him, I’d believe it. Iz says something, and Ryan laughs, and then we pass each other, close enough that the sleeve of his blazer almost brushes mine. Almost. His eyes land on me for less than a second. Cold. Bored. Like he recognizes my face only because we’ve been attending the same school forever and that’s the entire extent of his interest.

“Watch it, O’Toole.” The words are quiet — not vicious enough to draw real attention. Still, two boys walking behind him laugh.

I know why he did it. That’s the worst part. Somebody near the science doors was watching — I saw Ryan clock him, a man I don’t recognize, maybe someone from administration, maybe someone my father knows, maybe nobody at all. Ryan doesn’t take chances. Neither do I. Still, knowing why doesn’t make the words disappear.

“Asshole,” Penny mutters.

I swallow. “He’s always an asshole.”

“Not usually to you.”

My eyes snap toward her. Penny’s already watching Ryan’s back. “What?” I say.

She shrugs. “Nothing. Just thought he mostly ignored you.”