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Daneca is waiting for me outside the cafeteria at lunch. She’s sitting on one of the benches, her mass of brown and purple hair hanging in her face. She waves me over and shifts aside her hemp book bag so that I can sit down.
I lean back and stretch my legs. It’s cold and a storm is rolling in, but there’s still enough sun that it’s nice to sit in a patch of it. “Hey,” I say.
She shifts, and I can see what her hair hid before—red eyes and puffy skin around them. Streaks of salt on her cheeks marking the map of tears.
“Lila called you, huh?” I don’t mean to sound callous, but the words come out that way.
She wipes her eyes and nods.
“I’m sorry.” I reach into my pocket, hoping I have a tissue. “Honest.”
She snorts and touches her cell phone where it’s resting in the lap of her pleated Wallingford skirt. “I broke things off with Barron about ten minutes ago. I hope you’re happy.”
“I am,” I say. “Barron is a sleaze bag. He’s my brother—I should know. Sam is a much better guy.”
“I know that. I always knew that.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m mad at you for being right, and I shouldn’t be. It’s not fair.”
“Barron’s a sociopath. They’re very convincing. Especially if you’re one of those girls who thinks she can fix a boy.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I guess I was. I wanted to believe him.”
“You’ve got a real taste for darkness,” I say.
She looks away from me, out at the overcast sky, the formless shifting mass of clouds. “I wanted to think there was a part of him that only I could see. A secret part that wanted kindness and love but didn’t know how to ask for it. I’m stupid, right?”
“Oh, yeah. The taste for darkness, but not the stomach for it.”
She flinches. “I guess I deserve that. I’m sorry I believed what he said about you, Cassel. I know you haven’t told me everything, but—”
“No.” I sigh. “I’m being a jerk. I’m mad because I wanted you to be the person that I could count on to always know right from wrong. That’s not fair to expect from anyone. And I guess… I thought that we were better friends, despite all our sniping at each other.”
“Friends screw up sometimes,” she says.
“Maybe it’d help if I put my cards on the table. Tell me what Barron said, and I’ll tell you the honest truth. This is a onetime offer.”
“Because tomorrow you’ll go back to lying?” she asks.
“I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow. That’s the problem.” Which is one of the truest things I have ever said.
“You never told me what kind of worker you are, but Lila and Barron both did. I don’t blame you for not telling me. That’s a pretty big secret. And you really just found out last spring?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I didn’t think that I was a worker at all. When I was a kid, I used to pretend I was a transformation worker. I imagined that I could do anything, if I was one. That turns out to be almost true.”
She nods, considering. “Barron said you told the federal agents… what you are, in exchange for immunity for all past crimes.”
“I did,” I say.
“Immunity for murdering Philip, for instance.”
“That’s what Barron thinks?” I shake my head and laugh without actually being amused. “That I killed Philip?”
She nods, braced. I’m not sure whether she’s braced for me to tell her what an idiot she is or because she thinks I’m about to confess to the whole thing. “He says the guy they’re blaming for Philip’s murder was dead way before Philip was.”
“That part’s true,” I say.
She swallows.
“Oh, come on. I didn’t kill Philip! I know who did, that’s all. And, no, I’m not going to tell you, even if you ask, because it’s got nothing to do with either one of us. Let’s just say that the dead guy could afford to carry a murder charge in addition to his many other crimes. He was no angel.”
