Page 23 of Wicked Brutal

“That’s a different flavor of insane.”

“Still counts.” He stands again, his hand staying where it is, and I cover it with mine. For a moment neither of us jokes. Ryan’s eyes drop to our hands, and his whole expression changes — every time — because he can crack all the jokes he wants about berries and hostile yogurt, but underneath it he’s still Ryan on Valentine’s night, staring at two pink lines like the entire planet just changed shape. Which, I suppose, it has.

“Skirt?” he asks.

I sigh. “Doesn’t fit anymore.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “The normal one?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“Last week.”

“And you’re telling me now? What are you wearing?”

“Backup.”

“You had a backup?”

“I bought one.”

“When?”

“Last weekend. Online. I sent it to Becca’s.”

His eyebrows rise. “Does Becca know?”

“No. I told her it was a uniform replacement.”

His hand slips away from my stomach, and I miss it immediately. He picks his coffee back up off the piano. “How long do you think the bigger skirt buys us?”

There it is. The reason I came up here, besides needing to see him after the hallway. I sit down on the bench. “I don’t know.”

Ryan leans against the piano. “Week?”

“Maybe.”

“Two?”

“If nobody looks.” He doesn’t like that answer. Neither do I. The room goes quiet, and somewhere far below us a door slams. I wrap both hands around the tea. “We have to tell them.”

Ryan doesn’t pretend not to know who I mean. The boys. The girls. Eventually the parents — the whole terrifying network of people who have already dragged three of their own out of impossible situations. His eyes stay on mine. “Yeah.”

My stomach tightens. “Not everybody at once.”

“No.”

“I don’t want to sit in some room while twenty people stare at my stomach.”

“You’re not going to.”

“And I don’t want—“

“Ally.” His voice is gentle, and I stop. He crosses the room and crouches in front of me — not because I’m fragile, but because Ryan learned months ago that I hate having hard conversations with someone towering over me — and rests his forearms across my knees. “We do this however you need to do it.”

“What if they think we’re stupid?”