Page 35 of Small Sacrifices

After Everett has snuck out, Reid takes a brief shower and then goes down for breakfast. When he steps up to the buffet, Mr. Swayne is already standing there, piling bacon on his plate with comically small tongs.

He looks up, and the sympathetic expression on his face is enough to make tears sting behind Reid's eyes.

"Hey. I heard you had a tough day yesterday. Wanna talk about it?"

He very much does not, especially not before he's talked it through with Mr. Wright. Who apparently has been telling people about it already. Reid appreciates that. So much.

It's nice, though, to sit there in companionable silence as he crunches on his vegetables and Mr. Swayne crunches on his bacon. Between that and a gigantic mug of chamomile tea, he almost doesn't freak out when he receives a text from Mr. Wright. "Briefing room, eight sharp."

Mr. Swayne seems to notice and knows just the right thing to say to calm Reid down. The words carry him over the threshold of the briefing room and keep him calm until Mr. Wright lays eyes on him. Only then does his stomach twist into knots again.

"Sit," Mr. Wright says, so Reid sits. And then he does his very best to remain outwardly calm while maintaining eye contact. He hates every second of it.

"She's tweeting already," Mr. Wright continues when Reid remains silent. "So I'll need you to tell me exactly what happened yesterday, from your perspective. We need to write a statement."

A statement. Damn it. That's not good. Good things don't require statements. But Reid slept surprisingly well and ate a nutritious breakfast. That allows him to remain halfway calm while he recounts the events from the evening before.

"You're sure she touched you first?" Mr. Wright asks.

Reid does not like that implication. "I never touched her. She just shoved me."

"Good. That's very good. She claims you tried to keep her from leaving."

Oh. "But that's not true! I was between her and the hospital at all times! I wasn't—"

"I know you weren't," Mr. Wright interrupts. "But that's just how these things happen. She's scheduled a press conference at the same time as our town hall today, so I guess we'll see if she's doing this out of grief or for the money. But I don't want you involved. You have social media?"

Reid shakes his head. Technically, he does, but he never posts. And it's not under his legal name, anyway.

"Good, that's good. Here's how it's gonna go: You stay away. You don't go to the town hall. You don't talk to any of the parents anymore unless they contact you and are civil about it. You don't talk to any journalists except to direct them towards me. Get it?"

Reid nods. Then he remembers what Everett said earlier. "Will I be allowed to leave my room?"

Mr. Wright snorts. "Yes. You're not a prisoner. Just stay away from Ms. Greene and the town hall. And if someone tries to talk to you...?"

"If someone tries to talk to me, I'll direct them to you."

"Good." Mr. Wright gives a sharp nod, and then he's on his feet, presumably on his way to the governor to figure out how they're going to deal with this next issue. The cynical part of Reid wonders what lie they're going to tell to make this go away.

Back in his room, Reid sees that he's already received a text from Everett.

my father said Mr. Wright talked to u. u ok?

And there's that warm feeling again. Reid has to remind himself to breathe calmly. So what if he likes Everett? That doesn't have to mean anything. They're just friends. Everett said he wasn't flirting.

Surprisingly, yes. I don't think we've ever had an interaction this positive.

He gave me the day off.

He adds the latter because he wants to spend time with Everett today—but he doesn't want to ask him for it. That would be a bridge too far. He's not there yet. Thankfully, Everett doesn't need a reminder.

great! then get ready to get hype for all the amazing things this metropolis has to offer.

What follows is a string of emoticons that may as well be hieroglyphs for all that they tell Reid. Maybe he can ask Everett later, if he finds a moment when it wouldn't be too embarrassing.

I am very hyped.

Even just typing it makes him cringe, because he can hear himself saying the words without even a tinge of inflection. And Everett picks up on that. Because he responds with a laughing emoji.

its HYPE not HYPED u old man. if u wanna keep up with the youth u gotta bastardize the language like the youth.

Didn't we just establish that you're only a year younger than me? I think we're both young.

Also, who says I want to keep up? Maybe I'm just happy to watch from the sidelines.

confidence Reid confidence. well make a trendsetter out of u yet.

Somehow, Reid doubts that. But he still can't stop the smile from spreading on his face. This feels good. It feels real, like Everett genuinely wants to spend time with him.

And it also makes him think… What about all these other interactions that they've had?

All those little barbs that Reid thought were attacks.

Were they? Or is this just how Everett communicates?

In hindsight, maybe he overreacted. He does that.

It comes with the territory of being ruthlessly bullied for years.

Everett tells him to be in the lobby at nine, which throws Reid a bit. It's too spontaneous for him. But he wants to do it. So he does some breathing exercises, and then he selects some snacks for his backpack and makes his way down.

"Holland is bringing the car around," Everett says in place of a greeting when Reid walks up to him in the lobby.

"Holland?"

Now that they're standing in front of each other, Reid doesn't really know what to do with himself. Does he wave? That would be horrifically awkward. But just standing there and staring isn't much better. Not that Everett seems to notice.

"Well, we need someone to drive us. Come on!" He makes an aborted gesture like he was going to grab Reid's arm but thought better of it, and then he just beckons him.

A car pulls up, and once again, Everett opens the door and motions for Reid to enter first. Reid can almost hear Briana's amused snicker in his head.

He refuses to read anything into it, though.

Instead, he buckles in and tries to keep his expression neutral when Everett chooses to sit across from him.

There's a perfectly good seat next to Reid, but Everett opts for the backward-facing seat.

It doesn't make much sense, but there are more pressing questions.

"Where are we going?"

Everett's smirk makes an icy shiver run down Reid's spine. "Patience. You'll find out soon enough."

Normally, Reid hates situations like these. But this entire thing is out of control anyway, so what the hell? He nods. And then he considers for a moment. "Do you think we could drive by the school at some point? I'd really like to see it."

It feels like more of a need than a want. Not that it's a problem. Everett, apparently, has already scoped out when they can drive by the school without interfering with the children's schooling. Just the knowledge that classes are still taking place there is nauseating.

Until then, Everett has a few places he wants to show him. He almost drags Reid out of the car in his hurry to get started. Only when they get out of the empty side street they parked in and enter a busier area does he let go of Reid's wrist. It leaves Reid's hand feeling cold.

Looking around himself, Reid doesn't quite understand why Everett would think it'd be a good idea to go somewhere that's this busy this early in the day.

Most of the little shops are still closed, the bistro tables and chairs collapsed and padlocked.

But there are people everywhere. His confusion only grows as he catches sight of the town hall, where even more people are milling around, weaving between cars and broadcast vehicles.

"Should we be here?" he asks.

Everett turns around to face him but doesn't stop walking. "Nope. But we're just passing through."

"What if someone recognizes you?"

That gets him an eye roll. "People usually don’t. One benefit of not being the same ethnicity as my father is that no one looks at me and sees him. I'm not blond enough."

Oh. Reid doesn't know what to say to that. But he doesn't need to. Soon enough, they're at Everett's first destination. Which is, as it turns out, the preserved home of Severin Archibald—resident civil rights treasure of centuries past.

The house has been turned into a little museum, maintained by one of the Archibald's descendants. He's a rotund little man wearing colorful tweed who knows Everett by name and hugs him before even looking at Reid.

"And who's this? A... friend?"

Everett barely answers before he's dragging Reid inside. By the hand this time. Not that Reid pays too much attention to that. Just a normal amount, really. The man follows them at a leisurely pace. He keeps himself occupied while they look around the rooms, and Reid reads all the displays.

Only when he gets the impression that Reid has read his fill does he start talking. About "dear old Severin" and his immaculate handwriting, about some new letters he's just found that are "deliciously pornographic" and therefore have to be kept away from prying eyes.

The ladder he climbs wobbles dangerously as he tries to retrieve the box with the spicy love letters from the top shelf, but he only laughs.

And pornographic they are, indeed. Despite the old-timey language, Reid finds quite a few terms that would have to be bleeped out on daytime television.

Really, a few words shouldn't bring heat to his face like this.

But Reid isn't used to reading things like these letters.

He's already halfway through a very detailed fantasy dear Mr. Archibald had about fellating his partner when he realizes… oh. This isn't very straight.

Next to him, Everett chuckles. "You wanna know the best thing about this?"