“Because… I didn’t feel so lonely while I could read it, and… that’s all fake. I feel really weird about that.”

“That’s not how I think, Kenzie. It’s not—definitely not how I think about you. I care about more than what you can do with your tinkering.”

“I kind of thought that’s how adults think and do things. Not fun, but it made a lot of sense, after I thought about it for a while.”

Oh fuck. Fucking shit. How ingrained was this in her now?

“No,” I told her. “How long have you been reading this and thinking about this?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“Fuck, Kenz. No. That’s not me, and it’s not okay to think that way. To treat people as chess pieces.”

“Okay, but, if it was you, it’d be okay. You had my back when it counted and you have it now. You could do or say whatever and I’d be okay with it, I think. Unless you actually went and hurt Ashley or anyone else. Then we’d have to talk seriously about it.”

Talk about it. Something told me she was entirely serious, that she would be open to being convinced. No, no, no. How the hell was I supposed to deprogram her when she wasn’t even around half the time?

“Did you listen in when I talked to Chicken Little earlier?”

“He asked me not to,” she said. “So I didn’t. Also, Sveta’s getting out of the bathroom now. Take care of her, give her a hug and lots of love for me, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response. Effectively a hangup. The computers and monitors went dark, the light on the speaker going out.

What the hell?

The handle clicked, and Sveta stepped out of the washroom, face and hair wet, streaks of tears and ruined makeup gone. She’d toweled herself dry and applied fresh makeup, covering her scar, but it wasn’t an elaborate, full-face, nor was it the coloring that made her more flesh tone than actual white.

Weld was leaving. The others were talking.

“Feel any better?” I asked.

“My eyes don’t sting. My face is clean. I feel less of a mess. And… not at all.”

I nodded.

“It physically hurts,” she said. “But I don’t want to complain or angst.”

“You’re allowed,” I said.

“And I’m choosing not to use that allowance, so there,” she said. Her voice a little harder and a little more accented than it was on an ordinary day, but otherwise normal-ish.

She was trying so damn hard, and I had no idea how to help her with it.

“Tattletale,” Sveta said, joining me at the window. Her voice was level, her composure intact. “How is she, after being carved up and being back in one piece?”