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I look in amazement toward the doors Lila walked through. “Do you think she could be—better? Not cursed?”
The hope that blooms inside of me is terrifying.
Maybe. Maybe she could come out of this and not hate me. Maybe she could even forgive me. Maybe.
* * *
I cross the quad, heading back to my dorm room, Sam next to me. I’m smiling, despite knowing better. Despite knowing my own luck. I’m dreaming dreams where I’m clever enough to weasel my way out of all my problems. Sucker dreams. The kind of dreams con artists love to exploit.
“So,” Sam says slowly, his voice low. “It’s always like that? When you transform?”
Yesterday morning seems so long ago. I remember Sam’s look of terror as he stared down at me, sprawled on the floor. I can still feel the blowback creeping up my spine. I want to deny any of it happened; in those moments I felt more naked than I ever have in my life. So naked I was turned inside out.
“Yeah,” I say, watching moths circling the dim lights along the path. The moon overhead is just a sliver. “Pretty much. That was worse than usual because I worked myself twice in one night.”
“Where were you?” Sam asks. “What happened?”
I hesitate.
“Cassel,” Sam says. “Just tell me if it’s bad.”
“I was in Lila’s room.”
“Did you break her window?” he asks. I should have realized the story was all over campus. Everyone knows about the rock, about the threat.
“No,” I say. “The person who did that couldn’t have known I was there.”
He looks over sharply, a line appearing over the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows, as he frowns. “So you know who it was? Who broke the window?”
I nod my head, but I don’t volunteer Audrey’s name. Telling Sam isn’t like telling Northcutt, but I still feel bound to keep the secret.
“When it rains, it pours,” Sam says.
As we head into the building, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I open it against my chin and put it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Cassel?” Lila says softly.
“Hey,” I say. Sam turns and gives me a knowing look, then keeps walking, leaving me to sit on the steps to the second floor.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she says.
My heart sinks. “You are?”
“I am. I get why you took those bets. I’m not sure I like it, but I get it. I’m not mad.”
“Oh,” I say.
“I guess I just freaked out,” she says. “After last night. I don’t want this to be just pretend.” She’s speaking so quietly now that I can barely make out the words.
“It’s not,” I say. The words feel ripped out of my chest. “It never was.”
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a long moment. Then, when she does speak, I can hear the smile in her voice. “I still expect my winnings, Cassel. You can’t sweet-talk me out of those.”
“Whatever you say,” I tell her, grinning down at the stair. Someone dropped their gum, someone else stepped on it. Now it’s a streak of grimy pink.
I’m such a fool.
“I love you,” I say, because I might as well now, when it no longer matters what I do. I’ve made up my mind. Before she can reply, I close my phone, hanging up on her.
