“There are discs inside,” Cass is saying. “See? Those are the things we want to ruin. That’s where the data is stored.”

They’re so small and ordinary looking. For a second, something in Lulu wavers. What did those little pieces of metal ever do to her? What does she really think she’ll accomplish by putting them in pieces? The world will still be fucked and Cass will still be mostly not speaking to her. Ryan will still be able to do this whole thing to someone else again.

But then she looks at Cass and remembers that there are other things in the world than pure justice, or vengeance. There’s her, and there’s Cass. There’s this one small thing they can do to make themselves feel safe.

The first fall of the hammer is tricky: the aim and balance, making sure the blow lands exactly where she intends to place it. Soon, though, the tool is light in her hands. Her body knows how to do this, when she lets it: to smash up ugliness, to erase the evidence of how much she gave away, and how that still wasn’t enough, so that even more had to be taken from her. It’s another way of saying no, and Lulu says it until she aches all through her palms and fingers, in the muscle of her shoulders and her bones.

When they’re done, Cass gathers the corners of the tarp and ties them together; she puts the whole bundle in a trash bag, and the bag in the can, out on the street, to be collected in the morning. “Well,” she says. “So.”

“Yeah,” Lulu says. “Okay.”

“Thanks for coming over,” Cass says. “I’m glad we got to do that.”

“Me too.”

“What are you going to do now?”

Lulu shrugs. “Go home,” she says. “My homework, I guess.”

“Oh, no, I meant . . .” Cass gestures at the evening around them with one hand, and laughs. “In general.”

“I don’t know.”

“Me neither.”

For a bare moment, they smile at each other.

“I did delete my Flash account,” Lulu admits

“I did too.”

“Yeah. I, um, I realized I was tired of contributing content to the Riggs family.”

Cass grimaces. “Roman Junior! Jesus. He is, believe it or not, way worse than Ryan.”

“No, I believe that.”

“Or I guess actually he’s more obviously a creep? Maybe that’s better. Because I always knew to stay away.”

“Here’s some important work for the young women of the world to be doing—deciding which kind of asshole is the less-terrible kind.”

“You are a feminist now, Lu.”

“Books got to my head, I guess.”

“All that reading.” Cass reaches out thoughtlessly to ruffle Lulu’s hair.

Lulu holds perfectly still, hoping. Cass pulls her hand back.