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“Okay, well,” he says, his voice full of impatience. “Sorry, but you’ve gotta scram. Call me when you talk to Mom—so long as it’s not tonight.”
I smirk and slam the car door. “Have fun on your date.”
“Byeee,” he says, and waves. As I head toward the dorm, I glance back at the parking lot. I keep expecting a sweep of headlights as he pulls out, but the Ferrari’s still there. He’s only rolled it forward a little. Is he seriously waiting until I get to the door of my dorm, like I’m a little kid who can’t be trusted to make it home after dark? Am I in some danger I don’t know about? I can’t think of a good reason for him to keep idling near the curb when he so obviously wanted to get going.
I walk into the building, my scheming brain still rearranging the puzzle pieces. It takes me until I get to the hallway, fishing for my dorm key in the back pocket of my jeans, before I stop abruptly.
He wanted me to get going.
I run into the common room, ignoring Chaiyawat Terweil’s cry of protest when I jump over the cords connecting his PlayStation to the television. Then I drop to my knees in front of the window. Peering out, half-hidden behind a dusty curtain, I watch as a figure steps out of shadow, walks to where Barron is waiting, and opens the passenger side door.
She’s not wearing her uniform, but I know her just the same.
Daneca.
Purple-tipped braids glowing under the streetlight. Heels a lot higher than anything I’ve ever seen her in—high enough for her to wobble as she bends down. There’s no reason on earth why she should glance back at the Wallingford campus like she’s afraid of someone seeing her, no reason for her to be getting into my brother’s car, no reason for her to be dressed like that, no reason that makes sense. No reason but one.
The boy she’s been dating is my brother.
8
THERE IS NO WAY I CAN tell Sam.
He’s in our dorm room, still looking pretty hung over, sipping on a can of coconut water. “Hey,” he says, rolling toward me on his cot. “Your grandfather is a madman, you know that? After we finished with the poker, he showed me a bunch of old photos. I thought they were going to be pictures of you as a kid, but no. They were vintage snapshots of burlesque ladies with no gloves. From back in the day.”
I force a grin. I’m still thinking about Daneca and my brother, wondering how many times she’s been out with Barron, wondering why she ever went out with him even once. It’s hard to concentrate. “You looked at porn with my grandfather?”
“It wasn’t porn! Your grandmother was one of the ladies.”
Of course she was.
“The costumes were amazing,” he says dreamily. “Feathers and masks and sets like you wouldn’t believe. Crescent moon thrones and a massive rose with petals that swung like doors.”
“You were looking at the sets?” Now I’m laughing for real.
“I didn’t want to stare at the women. I wasn’t sure which ones were your relatives! And your grandfather was right there!”
I laugh some more. Mom told me about theaters back then, with curtained balcony seating where curse workers could conduct business while the show provided a legitimate front. Then came the raids. Now no one risks that kind of setup. “Imagine you in a place like that. You would be agitating them to do zombie burlesque in no time.”
“Untried market,” he says. Then he taps his gloved finger against the side of his head. “Always thinking. That’s me.”
He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t look crushed and miserable, the way he did all last week. If he’s still thinking about Daneca, at least she isn’t all he can think about. But if he knew about Barron—if he knew that my brother was the one she was seeing—that would change.
I know that if I’m going to be a better person, that includes being less of a liar. But sometimes a lie of omission is what you need until the world starts being fair on its own.
When Lila finds someone else, I hope they all lie to me.
* * *
I wake up with the alarm on my phone vibrating against my skull. Yawning, I glance over at Sam. He’s still asleep, his comforter half-kicked to the floor. I get up quietly, grab some clothes, and pad into the bathroom.
I set my alarm to wake me up silently, so I could go find Daneca before Sam’s up and noticing little things like me yelling at his ex-girlfriend. Before Daneca has a chance to see my good-for-nothing brother again. Before this situation gets even worse.
I shower and shave—so fast that I cut my neck right along my jawline. I wash the blood away, splash with stinging aftershave, and hurry to the cafeteria.
I’m early, which is rare. To celebrate I get myself two cups of black coffee and a piece of toast covered in crisp bacon. By the time Daneca comes in, I am considering a third cup.
Her hair is pulled back by a sandalwood hair band, and she’s got on brown herringbone stockings with brown leather Mary Janes. She looks like she always does, which for some reason surprises me. My idea of who she is has changed completely. She’s been seeing my brother secretly for days—maybe weeks. All that stuff she said, all the questions she suddenly had for me, now it makes sense. But the answer tilts my world on its axis.
