“I just don’t want to make it this big public thing. I’m not protecting him.”

“Except you are,” Nikki says, and okay, when even Ms. Optimist is calling you out on something, it’s time to take a step back.

“How are you not more pissed?” Jayla asks.

I rub my finger over a smudge on my keyboard, avoiding eye contact. “I was furious earlier, but now I’m mostly just sad.”

And lonely. I really miss them. Him? Both of him? This is so messed up.

Jayla sighs. I can tell she doesn’t like my answer.

“I get it,” Nikki says. “You lost two people you really cared about today.”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. “I’m still processing it or whatever.”

“That’s it. I’m sneaking out,” Jayla says.

“Don’t!” Nikki shrieks. “Your mom will end you.”

“Look at her face!” Jayla gestures toward her camera, and I can only assume she means me. “Jubilee called an emergency meeting, and she’s getting one.”

“Don’t,” I echo. “Seriously, I’m fine. I’m gonna crash soon anyway; there’s no point.”

“Okay,” she says. “Here’s what we’re doing. Tonight, you mope. Tomorrow, you get angry. Friday night, we come up with a plan.”

“Are we still watching Captain Marvel?” Nikki asks, and Jayla and I both roll our eyes.

“Yes,” Jayla says. “Obviously. I need to scope out the costumes for our next con.”

“Good, because I’m dying to—”

But I don’t hear what else she says as I click my laptop shut. I can’t think about this anymore. It’s time to do what I do whenever I can’t figure something out. It’s time to play.

The bow is steady in my hand as I slide it across the strings, sending a long mournful note out into the atmosphere before changing tempo, making it more hectic, more agitated. I play until my arms are aching and my bow is fraying and sweat is dotting my face.

And when I can’t play anymore, I collapse on my bed and pray for dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ridley

I SLINK LOWER, the cold porcelain biting at my skin as I settle against the back of the tub. I bend my knees and dip even lower as the water rises—first to my chest, then to my chin, then to my nose. Sadbath central, but who cares. Allison has been screaming at me about my reports, and I just—I just need it to be quiet.

It’s almost peaceful floating here, the water enveloping me, making me feel safe in a way I don’t anywhere else. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know I should get out, need to get out, that I can’t float here forever.