“Cass, Hannah, Levi, the Matthewses. I had to keep them outside the perimeter, because if I let them close, my whole castle would crumble. I was too raw to feel that much.”

“And after your wounds scabbed over, when you weren’t so raw?”

“I guess I didn’t want anything to upset my delicate balance? I don’t know, I was on autopilot at that point, because that’s what a fugue state is for. I didn’t have to make decisions or examine myself. I could just put one foot in front of the other and survive.”

She went back to painting the Christmas tree, and they fell into silence. She shouldn’t have tried to explain. She never talked to anyone about this stuff, not even Cole or Hannah or Blue.

She kept trying to get Noelle to understand her, to see that her assessment of Miriam was unfair, but she couldn’t tell if she was succeeding. Noelle had never mentioned their fight, and although they were civil to each other and had a few conversations where it felt like she was making headway, she didn’t want to assume Noelle’s opinion of her had changed. It was like Noelle had said, Miriam couldn’t trust her own judgment. She was afraid if she was wrong, it would hurt even more. She couldn’t read Noelle’s body language, her feet always set wide and her arms crossed over her body like she was a tree, solid and dependable and incapable of being swayed.

“You have a gift for this,” Noelle said, startling Miriam out of her thoughts. She looked down, and Noelle was standing back, planted, hands on her hips, eyeing the whole sketch. “Have you ever done any painting for your art, or is your heart in antique upcycling?”

“My art is as real as painting,” Miriam said defensively, because she couldn’t give any of the other answers to Noelle’s question. That she couldn’t paint, even if she wanted to, and it didn’t matter where her heart was. Upcycling had to be enough.

“It absolutely is.” Noelle nodded. “And you’re incredibly talented at it. I just wondered. You can be good at many things at once.”

Miriam chuckled sadly. “I sometimes wish I could trade some of my art and business skills for skills at being human,” she said. “And I don’t paint.”

Not anymore, she whispered to herself.

“I—” Noelle started, and then stopped.

“What?” Miriam asked.

“You’re not the worst person I’ve ever met at being a human,” Noelle said, finally.

Wow, talk about damning with faint praise. Noelle sounded like that admission had been dragged out of her. Miriam was very glad she hadn’t started to believe Noelle might like her, eventually.

“That’s demonstrably true,” Miriam agreed, trying to sound flippant to hide her disappointment. “You’ve met my dad.”

Noelle tipped her head in acknowledgment. “And Levi.”