Page 168 of Stormbreaker

He shrugs and slurps down a spoonful. “How does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You deserved better than this.”

With a sigh, he plants his elbows on the table. “Have you talked to her?”

“Not much,” I say. “Honestly, we’ve really drifted apart. She’s busy with her new friends.”

“I don’t understand what got into her.”

“People change, I guess.”

“I wish . . .” He trails off and stabs a cherry tomato with his fork with such force that it goes flying off the plate. It barely misses my shoulder, sailing past and landing on the floor.

“I miss her,” he says so softly that I barely hear it.

I slide my hand across the table, just within his reach. “I miss her, too.”

“Is she seeing someone else?”

I swallow the thick knot in my throat. I know this answer will hurt. “She might be.”

He drops his head into his hands, and I give him a moment to collect himself. I watch a few people enter and leave the room, some of them tossing glances in our direction. I’m sitting on the Fiama side of the hall, and it’s likely only a matter of time before someone makes it an issue.

“How are your classes going?” I ask. “You’re not skipping school because of this?”

His jaw tightens. “So what if I am?”

“Edward, Trin wouldn’t want you to screw up your future because of her.”

He shrugs as if he doesn’t believe that. Then he picks up his fork and aims for another tomato, securing his kill.

“I was,” he says, popping it into his mouth. “At the beginning, I was skipping classes, but they called my mom, and she tore me a new one.” He winces. “Skies, sometimes I forget how loud she can yell.”

I snort because the image of Mrs. Chu’s furious face feels so . . . normal.

“She can be terrifying,” I agree, earning me a small laugh.

He tips his head and peers at me. “You’re doing okay?” he asks carefully.

I shrug. “As good as I can be.”

“How’s cadet training?”

“It’s pretty good,” I say honestly, and he offers me a tentative smile.

“I’m glad. I’ve always considered you my friend, too.” He shoves another forkful of noodles into his mouth. “So why did you want to talk to me?”

I inhale a deep breath. I need him to trust me, given the scant details I can offer. “There’s something I need. Some information.”

“What kind of information?”

“The confidential kind that can probably only be found in The Shield’s computers.”

He frowns at me. “Are you in trouble, Poe?”

“Maybe. Sort of? Possibly yes.”

His brows draw together. “I’m going to need more than that.”