Scarlett made it a point to stick close to Spencer, or it could have been Spencer making a point to stick by her. It was difficult to tell. There was a magnetic connection going on no matter what, probably in their mutual interest to avoid more heartbreak and scenes of violence. At the moment, all she could see of him were his feet. The rest of him was underneath the half-assembled stage with a drill, tightening a support. She sat next to him, supporting a light so he could see what he was doing. From here, she had a perfect view of Eric across the way. He was lifting lights out of the back of a van. He was wearing one of his tighter T-shirts.

She dug her fingers into her leg as hard as she could.

“Ow.”

That wasn’t her. That was Spencer. She had let the light droop, and now the drill had gone silent.

“You okay?” she said, peering fearfully into the void.

Before she found out what damage she had just caused to her brother, Mrs. Amberson swooped down on her with a handful of twenties.

“O’Hara,” she said. “Go downstairs to that pizza place on the corner and have some food and drinks sent up. There’s a health food store across the way, so you can pick me up a carrot juice. I’ll get this.”

She took the flashlight and assumed Scarlett’s place, bending low to peer at Spencer in the dark little space under the stage.

“Has anyone ever told you how well-articulated your knees are, Spencer?” she asked. “I know several dance teachers who would love to get their hands on them.”

Scarlett decided to avoid the stairs, as they had a pungent odor, so she wound her way down the two stories through the parking area. She didn’t notice that she was being followed until she was almost at the street.

“Hey,” Eric said, jogging up behind her. Even in the shadows of the parking garage, the greenish bruise that ran along his cheekbone was still perfectly clear.

Just standing across from him—it was different now. It was the most painful, messed up, exciting, and disturbing place in the entire world. It was an insult to some part of her, the part in the past that had been so happy.

“How’s the…?” She pointed to the mark.

“It’s fine,” he said, running his hand along the bruise. “Accidents, you know? Luckily, Spence and I wear white makeup. Can’t even see it.”

“Oh. Good.”

No. This wasn’t awkward at all.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “I thought we should. Sorry to chase you…I just wanted to do it in private.”

“Talk about what?” she asked, warily.

He took a long, deep breath.

“You saw Sarah come out of my apartment,” he said.

So Coco McBigGlasses had a name.

“Sarah was my girlfriend from home,” he said. “When you saw me, I had just broken up with her.”

“You had a girlfriend?” Scarlett managed to ask. “Even when we…”