“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jessica said. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight, calling one of us a ‘monkey’ is like using the ‘N’ word?”

“Sure,” Antonia said. “Another way to look at it is, if I’m doing it, chances are, it’s socially unacceptable. Seriously. I am not the role model for any of you.”

“The ‘N’ word, huh?” Jessica mused.

“I don’t think we should be talking about this,” Betsy said nervously, emerging from the closet with an armful of slacks on hangers.

“Relax, white girl. I’m curious, is all.”

“Look, it’s really really rude, and I’m trying to cut down, okay?”

Betsy was too curious to drop the subject. “So compared to you guys, we’re slow, and not too bright, and we can’t smell at all, and we stink, and we’re really wimpy.”

Antonia noticed Betsy said “you guys” in reference to herself as well. Interesting. “Well…yeah. But, uh, we know you guys can’t help it.”

“So it’s like being born blind?” Jessica asked dryly. “Poor things, blah-blah, better luck next life?”

“Pretty much.”

“But where do you fit in? A werewolf who’s never a wolf?”

“I don’t know,” Antonia said and then shocked herself as much as anyone when she burst into tears.

“Oh my God!” Betsy almost screamed. “I’m so sorry! Don’t cry. Please please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Antonia sobbed. “I never cry.”

Jessica leaned across the bed and awkwardly patted her on the back. “There, there, honey. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Totally fine!” Betsy endorsed. “Totally, totally! Please don’t do that!”

“I’m not,” she said, crying harder.

“Okay, so you’re not crying.” Jessica held up a navy blue tank top. “What do you think of this one?”

“I hate it,” she sobbed.

“Not into blue, eh?”

“Jessica, can’t you see she’s really upset?”

“Can’t you see she doesn’t want to talk about it?”

“Why did he have to fall in love with you?”

“What?” the women said in unison.

“I said, why did you have to show me anything blue?”

“Well, jeez, we didn’t think you’d get so upset,” Betsy said. “A tough honey like you?”

“Did George hurt you? Is that why you’re mad?”

“Of course he hurt me. We hurt each other. That’s what—never mind.”

“Oh, sorry.” Jessica looked away. “It’s none of our business.”

“I don’t have human hang-ups about fucking,” she reminded them. “I’ll draw sketches, if you like. It’s not that. It’s something else.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

And that was that.

Chapter 12

When they came back down to the kitchen, to her surprise, Garrett was sitting at the counter with a weirded-out Sinclair. Waiting.