Page 8 of Bent Heavens

“Yeah, but that’s because I want to talk about something else.”

Liv felt her shoulders close up as they did any time her past was questioned. Don’t do that, she instructed herself. Be the tallest you can.

“And what’s that?” she asked.

He clicked his own pen, gestured at his blank page.

“Let’s get this done first. You’re Olivia Fleming. I’m guessing you’re also seventeen? You don’t have any siblings, if I remember what I heard, and you’re in like twenty-eight sports.”

“Where’d you learn all that?”

“Oh, just from people this summer. I always do some groundwork before starting at a new school.”

“Why do you keep starting at new schools?”

Another big grin, though this one looked strained. “Hey, we’re done with me. Did I get all your details right? No pets?”

“Yeah, a dog.”

“Oh! Tell me about the dog. Dogs go over great in these things. If you’ve got a picture on your phone we might not have to talk at all.”

“Well, his name is John, and he’s a blue-heeler mix—”

“His name is John?”

“My dad named him. After a poet.”

“Which poet?”

“I can’t remember. John somebody.”

Bruno laughed. It fit with his grin—comforting, welcoming. He took a note.

“‘Dog named after John the poet.’ That’s good stuff. Anything else?”

Liv sighed. “What’s the point? All these people know me. We’ve been going to school together forever.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Yeah, but you get the basic idea about someone, just by being awake. You can tell who’s nice or whatever.”

“Am I nice? Or am I whatever?”

“You’re nice.”

“Then why do you look so scared of me?”

“I’m not scared. I just—you’re talkative. And I’m tired.”

“Haven’t had your coffee yet. You’re definitely a coffee drinker.”

“I guess you can add that to your notes. ‘Drinks coffee.’ God, that’s why these things suck. You either sound boring or like you’re desperate for attention.”

“And it’s probably hardest for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Your dad. Like, that’s interesting. I’ve only heard a little bit of it, and even I can tell it’s super interesting. But because it’s unhappy, we all have to pretend like it doesn’t exist. ‘I drink coffee, and my dog is named John’ sort of pales in comparison.”