“Is there recycling?” Mira called from the kitchen.
Alex sighed. “Under the sink.”
Maybe good things were the same as bad things. Sometimes you just had to let them
happen.
Mercy and Mira were a surprisingly efficient team. They got the garbage packed away, made Alex shower, and got her an appointment at the university health center to get
on a course of antibiotics, though she didn’t go so far as to show them her wound. She said she’d just been dealing with some kind of flu or virus. They made her shower and change into clean sweats, then Mira went to the little gourmet market and got soup and Gatorade. She went back out again when Alex told them she’d had to throw away her boots.
“Tar,” she said. “They were ruined.” Tar, blood spatter. Same difference.
Mira returned an hour later with a pair of boots, a pair of jeans, two Yale T-shirts, and a
set of shower sandals that Alex didn’t need but thanked her for anyway.
“I got you a dress too.”
“I don’t wear dresses.”
“But you might.”
They settled in front of the fireplace with cups of tea and instant cocoa. Unfortunately,
Alex had eaten all of Dawes’s fancy gourmet marshmallows. It wasn’t quite cold enough
for a fire, but the room felt snug and safe in the late-afternoon light.
“How long are you here for?” Alex asked. It came out with an ungrateful edge she hadn’t intended.
“First flight out in the morning,” said Mira.
“You can’t stay longer?” Alex wasn’t sure how much she wanted her to. But when her
mother beamed, so happy to be asked, Alex was glad she’d made the gesture.
“I wish I could. Work on Monday.”
Alex realized it must be the weekend. She’d only checked her email once since she’d
holed up in the Hutch and hadn’t read any of Sandow’s messages. She’d let her phone go
dead. For the first time she wondered if the societies had continued meeting without Lethe
to oversee them. Maybe activity had been suspended after the attack at Il Bastone. She
didn’t much care. She did wonder if her mom could afford a last-minute cross-country flight. Alex wished she’d extorted some money from Lethe along with that grade bump.
Mercy had brought notes from the three weeks of classes she’d missed and was already
talking about a plan of attack before finals. Alex nodded along, but what was the point?
The fix was in. Sandow had said he’d make sure Alex would pass, and even if he didn’t,
Alex knew she didn’t have the will to catch up. But she could pretend. For Mercy’s sake
and for her mother’s.
They ate a light dinner and then made the slow walk back to Old Campus. Alex showed
her mom the Vanderbilt courtyard and their shared suite, her map of California and the poster of Leighton’s Flaming June, which Darlington had once rolled his eyes at. She let Mira coo over the sketchbook she’d tried to make herself pick up once in a while for the
sake of appearances but admitted she hadn’t been drawing or painting much.
When her mom lit up a bundle of sage and started smudging the common room, Alex
tried not to melt into the floor in embarrassment. Still, she was surprised at how good it
felt to be back in the dorms, to see Lauren’s bike leaning up against the mantel, the toaster oven topped by boxes of Pop-Tarts. It felt like home.
When it was time for Mira to head back to her hotel, Alex walked outside with her, trying to hide how much it took out of her just to descend the few steps to the street.
“I didn’t ask what happened and I’m not going to,” said Mira, gathering her glittery scarf around her neck.
“Thank you.”
“It’s not for you. It’s because I’m a coward. If you tell me you’re clean, I want to believe you.”
Alex wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I think I may have a job lined up for the summer.
But it means I won’t be coming home.”
Mira looked down at her shoes, handmade leather booties she’d been getting from the
same guy at the same craft fair for the last ten years. She nodded, then brushed tears from