Page 140 of Burn Bright

“When are you ever in the mood?”

“Good point,” he deadpans. “You’ve made one in a blue moon. Now explain what the fuck went wrong.” He hangs his wrist out of the windowsill.

I exhale a rough breath, trying to cool down. “You of all people aren’t going to understand.”

Charlie takes the longest drag, then slowly blows smoke outside. When he slings his head back, he says, “Try me.”

I release another coarse breath. Why not? What do I have to lose? My nerve? I’m already on edge. So I tell him, “Right before Harriet had to leave, I learned her research involves animal work.”

Charlie doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t roll his eyes. He just asks, “What are we talking about? Rats, mice, guinea pigs, rabbits?”

“Mice.”

He looks me over. “And you hate her now?”

My face fractures. “No. I don’t hate her.”I could never hate Harriet.“But I don’t approve of what she’s doing. It’s just as unethical to experiment on animals as it would be humans.” I’ve never wavered from this ideology. I add, almost as an afterthought, “I got detention for spray paintingfrog killersin the science lab at Dalton.”

“I remember,” Charlie says, which surprises me. I was fifteen. He was twenty and already in New York by then.

I pull at the Capybara bracelet around my wrist. “I can’t justify animal suffering, even in the name of science. The thought of killing any living thing…it sickens me.”

“How do you know it doesn’t sicken her?”

That question catches me off guard. “Why would she do it then?”

Charlie lifts and drops his shoulders, shaking his head like he doesn’t have the answer. But then he says, “Sometimes we endure pain because the end goal has more value than our own suffering.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Or she could be gleefully murdering Stuart Little. You just never know.”

I don’t believe she’s happily killing mice—but I don’t know if she’s considered the ethical ramifications either. And should it matter what she does?

I’ve never taken it personally if those around me don’t share my exact ideologies. Not everyone will care about the environmental impact of meat consumption. How it contributes to deforestation, climate change, water depletion, and soil erosion. Not everyone will be as eco-conscious as I am, and I would never claim to be the perfect hero called to save Mother Earth.

I know I could do more.

I know I might never do enough.

So people don’t need to practice veganism for me to love them. My brother abuses his private jet far too fucking much,and I haven’t shunned him out of my life. He’s sitting right next to me.

But I would’ve been hurt if my parents didn’t do the bare minimum. Recycle. Don’t wear fur. Use less water. Yet, my mom and dad continue to surprise me. Like when they installed solar panels on the house. When Dad planted more trees in the backyard. When Mom sold her car for an electric Porche. When they donated a shit ton of money to a clean energy organization.

I see them trying, and that’s more than enough for me.

My thoughts draw my gaze back to the city. The car is quiet for another few minutes before Charlie says, “One last thing. For Beckett.”

It’s irritating that he can’t just be nice to me without doing it for Beckett. But I’m too drained to say something about it.

He flicks his cigarette outside and rolls up the window. “Harriet makes you happy. It’s been very fucking obvious to all of us. Don’t push her away over this.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Charlie takes out a pair of sunglasses and slips them over his eyes. “Then we’re settled here.” He lays his head on the window. Maybe to take a nap.

I’m not sure. I’m not trying to decipher the persisting riddle that is Charlie Keating Cobalt tonight.

He doesn’t ask who my text is from when my phone buzzes.

Harriet Fisher

Going to be a long night. I don’t think I’ll make it back to the club. Talk tomorrow?