But he takes a beat too long to respond. “...I don’t—”
“Whatever.” I straighten, stride over to the window. The sky hangs gray and heavy with unshed rain, and from afar, the pale, bare branches of the wutong trees planted around the playground look like bones. “It’s fine if you think that. Really. I”—for a fraction of a second, my voice cracks, and I force it to harden—“I was never trying to be a hero anyway.”
“You could be, though,” Henry says quietly.
“Don’t be naive.”
“Why no—”
“Because,” I snap. “Because this isn’t a Marvel movie. It’s not about good versus evil—it’s just about survival. And even if it were,” I add, dragging a finger down the cold pane of glass, “I’d rather be the villain who lives to the end than the hero who winds up dead.”
I turn back around, just in time to catch the look on Henry’s face. It’s not disgust, as I expected, or even shock. His lips are set in a tight, unyielding line, but his eyes are soft. Strangely tender.
As if I’ve given away something about myself without realizing it.
“Look, I don’t need your approval, Henry,” I say, determined to ignore that expression, the way it makes my chest ache like a pressed bruise. “I just need to know if you’re fully prepared to do this mission with me.”
Seconds tick by.
Minutes.
A century of him sitting there, not saying anything, killing me with his silence. But just when I’m about to give up and walk out the door and pretend all of this never happened, he nods, yes.
“Good,” I say, and it’s not until the word leaves my lips that I realize the extent of my relief. It startles me. Unsettles me. Maybe I care about this partnership more than I want to admit.
I quickly push the thought aside.
“All right then. Let’s start brainstorming how we’re going to do this whole kidnapping thing now, hmm?” I retrieve a pen from my pocket, and point at the calendar hung up over his desk, a colored sticky note marking every important event. Written in his handwriting, so neat it looks as if it’s been typed up and printed, are the words Experiencing China trip. Only three days away. “We don’t have much time to waste.”
13
There’s a strange hum of energy in the air as we board the train at Beijing Railway Station.
It’s not just because of the enormous crowd moving with us, pushing past and into the narrow compartments: young, sunburnt workers heaving pots and plastic duffel bags over their shoulders, eager to return to their hometown over the weekend; mothers clutching their purses tight to their chests, yelling and gesturing wildly for their children to follow; gray-haired businessmen negotiating deals on the phone at the top of their voices as they fumble around for a charger.
It’s excitement, anticipation, wholly unique to Airington students alone. Everyone knows that Experiencing China trips are where Things Happen. After all, the combination of long train and bus rides, luxurious hotels in a foreign place, and nonschool-related activities completed in close proximity of one another seems almost intended to create drama. Friendship circles are broken and rearranged. Long-time couples split and exes hook up again. Secrets are revealed, scandals are made. Like when Vanessa Liu lost her virginity behind a Buddhist shrine on our Year Nine trip to Guilin, or when Jake Nguyen managed to sneak his way into the hotel bar during our Year Ten trip and got so drunk he launched into an hour-long monologue about how he felt inferior to his brother, while Rainie—who was still his girlfriend at the time—stroked his hair and fed him sips of water.