Page 26 of The Narrow

I stick my tongue out at her, and she puts a hand on my knee for a brief moment, affectionate. My heart gives only a tiny squeeze. I am very nearly over Ruth Hwang.

It feels good being back. But I keep wondering what Delphine is doing, all alone in Abigail House.

“Hey, losers,” Veronica says, practically dancing through the door, her face aglow. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just Ruth destroying our fundamental understanding of her life goals,” Zoya said.

“Also Tiny Russian Grandma Cookies,” Ruth says, pointing.

“Sweet,” Veronica says, plopping down on the couch beside me. “And what?”

“Ruth has decided not to pursue Olympic glory, but reside with us mere mortals,” I explain.

“Excuse me? And I’m only hearing about this now?” Veronica asks, genuine surprise mixed with exaggerated offense.

“To be fair, I’m just hearing about it now myself,” Ruth says.

Veronica fixes Zoya with a look. “You’d better not tell me you’ve decided to only dress in sweats or something.”

Zoya laughs. “You’re safe, I promise.”

“How is the fashion stuff going?” I ask, casually as I can. I’ve been worried about Zoya this summer. Her usual flowery captions have shrunk down to the emoji-only level, and her photos have been of cute dogs and flowers, with only a few of her usual fashion shots.

Zoya sighs. “It’s complicated.”

“I noticed you haven’t been posting much on Instagram,” I say.

She makes a face. “Yeah, I’m having kind of a weird relationship with it right now. I still lovemakingclothes, but I’ve never been totally comfortable being my own model. It’s like...” She trails off.

“Like it’s about you instead of the clothes?” I guess, and she makes a sound of agreement.

“Your DMs have to be a nightmare, too,” Veronica notes.

Zoya gives a full-body shudder. “A wretched hive of scum and villainy,” she declares, putting up a hand. “It used to befun, you know? Then it started to be about getting noticed and getting likes and getting sponsors and it’s this whole little business empire, but why? I’ve never wanted to run a business. I suck at it.And I’m seventeen, I should not know this much about taxes.” She waves a hand. “Anyway, that’s way too much about me.”

“I miss hearing about you. All of you,” I say, and I’m taken aback by the raw note of longing in my voice.

Zoya gives me a look that simmers with surprise, but Veronica just pops another cookie in her mouth.

“In that case, can it be my turn to make it all about me for a hot minute?” Veronica asks.

“Please. All this introspection is giving me acne,” Ruth says, and Zoya gives a nod of permission.

Veronica launches into an explanation of why she was late, which involves an extra meeting with her painting mentor—who is apparently the coolest and most brilliant woman to ever grace the earth. She lights up as she talks, gesturing wildly. It’s good to see her so happy. She worked her ass off last year to land the mentorship. I curl into the corner of the couch, arms wrapped around a throw pillow, and just listen.

Rain hits the window with sudden force. I jump in my seat. I can see the drops against the window. Real rain, not... not whatever it’s been at Abigail House. No need to freak out.

I try to focus on what Veronica is saying. The rain picks up. It seems to fill my hearing. Beneath it is another sound—the wind? No, a voice. A whisper.

They took her.

The words are as clear as if they were whispered in my ear. My breath catches. My eyes fix on the window.

Veronica pauses midsentence, looking over at me.

“Eden? Everything okay?” she asks.

For a dizzying moment, it’s like I’ve never seen any of them before. Then their names slide back into my mind and I shiver. “I’m fine,” I croak.

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