Page 129 of Scrimmage

People always say angels are beautiful but from what I know about the Bible, they’re terrifying. That’s Penny right now. Staring me down with the wrath of God.

“I looked at it. Then I couldn’t stop. I know I fucked up.”

“You told her she was a pocket pussy,” Penny seethes.

“I didn’t say that. Cole did. I just didn’t say what she needed to hear to make her stay. I should have told her she was more than that.”

“Continue.”

“So I looked through it because I fucking miss her. And…Can I see it?” I reach my hand out.

At first she clutches it, but eventually she concedes.

“How would you describe Ashland?” I ask.

“Perfect. Worthy of people giving a fuck about her and the feelings she pretends she doesn’t feel. What about you?”

“Honest. It was what you told me that day when I said she was abrasive.”

“Well, that’s a given.”

I flip to the eyes. “Who is this?”

She keeps her mouth shut. So I flip to the page of the girl with chains and hold it up. “What is this?”

Her eyes roll over the page, darting all around. Her breathing speeds up, her chest rising and falling with anxiety or fear. She swallows. “Art.”

I move on, stopping on the page of stars that she has tattooed. “She has this tattooed on her arm.”

“So?” There’s a warning in her tone.

“Do you know why?”

“Why what?”

“Why she drew them? Why she tattooed them? Why they’re angry?” I flip to the happy one. “Why these are happy? And why is the other so fucking empty? Why does one have nineteen and the others have twenty?”

She crosses her arms and sits back in the chair, pulling out her phone. Her fingers type furiously. I want to stop her, but it’s not my place. Not at all. When she’s done, she takes a deep breath through her nose and blows it out through her mouth. She sticks her hand out, and I give her the book. As she thumbs through the pages, she mutters to herself. She shakes her head, giggles, rolls her eyes, and even looks devastated before glancing up.

“These are of you.”

“It appears so.” I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded sketch. The one she gave me the night that I gave her the new sketch book, and I hand it to her.

She raises her eyebrows. “Steal this, too?”

“She gave it to me.”

Penny drops the pad in her lap and snatches it out of my hands, pouring over the page. Then she laughs.

“I know,” I sigh. “Jupiter. It took me way too long to figure it out.”

“So you started learning to speak Ashland?”

“I guess so.”

“She doesn’t give people this stuff. Ever.”

“I fucked up, Penny.”

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