Page 26

TWENTY-SIX

ROSE

I am absolutely fine.

In the three weeks since Danni ended our relationship, I have adjusted to yet another new normal with relative ease. I wake, I attend class and language tutoring, I eat meals, and I go to bed. Easy, predictable, steady. The good thing about Molly, I suppose, is she taught me rather effectively not to trust in the stability of even the most wonderful relationships. A useful lesson in a world like this.

On the topic of Molly, I have been finding that I struggle to mind her absence, too, lately. So, when Florence finds me in the dining hall and invites me to smoke in the woods after curfew like we used to, I say yes without hesitation.

I can hardly remember why it meant so much to me to stop drinking and dabbling in drugs in the first place. Because Molly was hurt from it? Molly can’t be hurt by me anymore; she doesn’t care what I do. Because I don’t want to harm my reputation further? It’s not as though my friends and I have been caught doing this in the past. Because I wanted to be a better person? What does it even matter what kind of person I am? The country seems happy with me at the moment, now that I’m apparently dating Alfie. Much happier than they were with me last month, when I was doing everything “right.” So, why bother trying to improve myself? I may as well do what I want. And tonight, I want to continue to feel nothing.

It’s supposed to be five of us meeting by the stairs. Eleanor and Florence, myself, and—inexplicably—Danni and Molly, who I only just found out Florence invited at all. Six, if you count Theodore. Just as we’re about to leave, though, Harriet joins us at the last second.

“It’s fine,” she says when Florence gives her a confused look. “I have the RA phone with me. If anyone needs me, they can call me.”

“Playing with fire, girl,” Florence says, but Harriet simply winks at Danni and shrugs, and we head off together. It’s an excellent thing that I’m fine, or I might have the irrational urge to throw her phone in the lake for having the audacity to flirt with my ex-girlfriend right in front of me.

Not that Danni was ever technically my girlfriend. And not that Harriet would have a clue either way.

But as I said. I’m fine, so it’s no matter at all.

We trudge through the woods in a tight group, following the light of Molly’s and Eleanor’s phone flashlights. It’s freezing, and by the time I pull out the gloves I keep folded in my coat pocket my fingers are so numb I can barely don them. Christmas break starts next week, as the tree erected in the dining hall, and the tinsel wrapped around the staircase bannisters, and the wreath they’ve hung over the Dewitt entrance keep reminding us. Even though we rarely get a white Christmas in Henland, it seems this year may be one of those rare years.

“We won’t get in trouble for this, will we?” Danni asks in a whisper as we trudge.

“Not if we don’t get caught,” Florence says cheerfully, and Danni looks stricken.

“No,” Harriet assures her, shooting Florence a dirty look. “We did this all the time last year.”

“But isn’t there a zero-tolerance policy now?”

Harriet rolls her eyes. “They just say that to look like they’re taking drug use seriously if anyone asks. As long as we don’t make them look bad, they don’t actually care.”

Before long, we reach our spot: a clearing that was set up by students long before we arrived at school, presumably for similar purposes. Harriet and Florence kneel beside the fire pit and pull wooden blocks and towels from Harriet’s backpack while Eleanor, Molly, and I take our places on the logs we’ve always used as makeshift benches. Unlike other years, Molly and I do our best to sit as far apart as possible. And as though we’ve barely had a break in our longstanding routine, Eleanor opens the canvas bag she brought—and always did bring—with her and passes out cans of hard cider as though she’s Santa handing out toys from his sack.

Harriet and Florence bring the fire from a spark to a pleasant crackle, at which point they pass around their own toys for the boys and girls.

When I take a joint for myself, Molly’s eyes fix on me in an intense glare. Quite apparently, she cares about me doing this rather more than I expected, though I can’t understand why. Nor do I understand why she chose to come along tonight. She doesn’t drink, or smoke. Did Danni want to come?

Is it possible Danni wanted to see me?

I steal a glance at Danni—something I’ve been doing as little as possible lately—and find her taking a dainty sip of cider and scrunching up her nose at the taste. Apparently, she’s not much of a drinker. She looks so adorable, I smile to myself without quite meaning to, only to avert my gaze as rapidly as I can when she catches me looking.

On the ground beside me, my phone buzzes, but before I can reach for it, Eleanor snatches at it and reads the message with a playful look. “It’s from Alfie,” she says in a singsong tone. “He says he has a surprise organized for your birthday. Apparently it involves… what’s this? Whips and chains?”

Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what Alfie has just messaged me. Slow clap. I wrestle my phone from Eleanor’s grip, and find that the message from Alfie, in fact, asks if there’s any birthday gift I particularly want. Well, gosh, after the standard I set with my birthday gift to him, the sky might be the limit here.

“Are you having a party this year?” Harriet asks.

I shoot Eleanor a dirty look, locking my phone, and she beams back at me. “Of course,” I say. “Right after the New Year. I’ll get invites to you all soon.”

I was not, in fact, planning on extending invitations to Molly and Danni; however it feels far too rude not to now. Besides, Molly missed my mother’s birthday, so I highly doubt she’ll attend mine. And Danni will follow suit, I assume.

“Damn right we’re invited,” Florence says, taking a deep drag. “What the hell kind of party would it be without us?”

“A respectable one, probably,” Danni suggests, and I smile before I can stop myself.

Eleanor responds to this by passing her the joint she’s just finished with. If Danni can hardly drink cider, it’s unlikely she’s ever smoked before. My instinct is to intervene and scold Eleanor for putting Danni on the spot like this, but I don’t wish to speak for her, either. For all I know, she wants to participate.

Danni surveys the joint in her fingers nervously, and then her eyes flicker to me. This time, I don’t look away. She takes a deep, steadying breath, raises it to her lips, and inhales so sharply I wince. As I expected, this is immediately followed by a violent coughing fit. Florence and Eleanor burst into fond laughter, but when I catch Danni’s panicked expression I’m on my feet in an instant. I remember the feeling of sucking in ash too well. It’s as though you might never get air in again.

“Here,” I say, passing her cider can to her. “Drink something.”

Molly pats her on the back, glaring at Eleanor and Florence, as Danni gratefully takes the can from me and swigs.

“That is fucking terrible,” she manages before dissolving into another coughing fit.

“You sucked too hard,” I explain, returning to my seat. “You want to go slow and steady.”

“Oh.” She meets my eyes once more, and there’s something I don’t like about it at all. It makes me want to wrap my arms around her. I want to be the one rubbing her back. I want to kiss the ash from her lips.

It feels disturbingly like longing.

I much preferred it when I avoided her orbit.

Danni’s gaze trails around the group, and she flushes. I think of her nervousness around the spotlight, and her fear of being laughed at. It just won’t do for her to feel uncertain like this around her own friends. “You want to try again?” I ask. Perhaps if she has the chance to redeem herself—and if I can effectively warn Florence and Eleanor with my eyes to stop laughing —the sudden self-consciousness will leave her posture. I don’t like her looking like this.

Danni nods, and I take Harriet’s joint from her and lift it to demonstrate. Danni matches my actions and, as one, our lips part, and we breathe in gently, steadily.

“Perfect,” I murmur. “I’m proud of you.”

Danni blossoms at my words, and for just a moment, I forget she isn’t mine. When the fact comes crashing back in, it goes down like burning ash.

I’m not entirely certain I’m fine after all.

I’m even less certain when Molly scowls and gets to her feet, dusting off the back of her pants. “I thought we agreed you weren’t going to pressure my friends into taking drugs anymore,” she says to me, turning on her heel before I can respond.

Danni scrambles up, too, looking patently horrified. “You didn’t—nobody pressured me,” she assures me, not that it’s much consolation. “I should…”

“Yes, go,” I urge in a cracking voice, and she disappears into the night.

The rest of us sit in uncomfortable silence. For the life of me, I can’t think of what to say.