Page 127 of Ruthless Court

Me: After the presentation.

She sends a middle-finger emoji.

Close enough to confirmation.

* * *

The next evening, Hannah arrives at the library carrying enough supplies to survive a natural disaster.

Laptop.

Three books.

A black notebook packed with color-coded tabs.

Backup charger.

Four sharpened pencils.

Then she places a family-sized bag of Twizzlers beside her computer.

I look at the candy.

Then at her.

“Planning to feed the humanities department?”

She unwinds a scarf from her neck and drapes it over the empty chair. “They’re mine.”

“That’s a family pack.”

“I’m a family of one.”

Rain darkens the shoulders of her oversized green coat. Her tortoiseshell glasses have fogged from the walk, and damp strands of hair cling to her cheeks beneath a high bun.

She removes the frames and wipes them on the hem of her sweater.

For a second, the woman from the parking lot appears.

Dark lashes. Stormy gray eyes. Glossed mouth.

Then the glasses go back on and Footnote returns.

She catches me staring.

“What?”

“You look different without those.”

“They help me see.”

“Contacts manage that without making you look like someone’s disapproving aunt.”

She sits across from me and tears open the Twizzlers with her teeth. “I have severe astigmatism. Glasses are better for my vision.”

“You know those are mostly corn syrup and red dye.” I tell her, not knowing anything about astigmatism.

She pulls one free. “Everyone has vices, Haverhill.”