Page 54 of Eye of the Beholder

“Yeah. I watched a documentary about it,” I say, feeling the books on the middle shelf now. Nothing so far.

“Interesting,” she says. She pauses. “Why don’t you just try taking the books off the shelf? That would probably go faster. I’m concerned we’re going to die in here.”

I laugh. “I don’t think it will come to that.” She’s right about the books, though. I start pulling them off the shelves and stacking them haphazardly on the floor.

The light swings off of the shelves in front of me and goes to the stacks I’m making. “I need that back,” I say.

“I just wanted to make sure you were stacking them,” Mina says.

I stop and look over my shoulder at her, even though I can only vaguely see her. “That matters?”

“Of course it does,” she says, and I can tell she’s looking at me like I’m an idiot. “Old books are fragile. You have to treat them with care.”

I just shake my head and go back to my task. “They’re probably not that old.”

“I’ll still feel better if you stack them,” she says.

I can’t help my smile. “I’m stacking them.” I pause, and then I say, “I’m sorry. About this whole thing. We shouldn’t have come.” I pause again, and then I go on. “Virginiareallydoesn’t like you. I mean, there are people she doesn’t like, but…she’s actively mean to you. Has she always been this way to you?”

“She’s always been mean, but not like this,” Mina says. “She’s just jealous.” Her voice is soft, and she sounds hurt, but she still speaks rationally. “You’re spending time with me. When female devils perceive a threat to their territories, they bare their fangs to ward off anyone encroaching.”

I burst out laughing, and it takes me a minute to stop. This tiny room and its greedy darkness seem to eat up the sound. When I finally catch my breath, I say, “But you and I aren’t—you know. Together.”

I picture Mina shrugging. “Virginia doesn’t know that. All she sees is us suddenly spending time together. She’s threatened.”

“And is therefore baring her fangs to ward you off.”

“Exactly,” Mina says. She’s quiet for a second, and then she says, “I keep hoping that maybe she has a terrible home life or something. Something that explains why she is the way she is. There has to besomething. I’m just not sure why she’s so set on you. I mean, you’re cute, but you aren’t very good at puns.”

“Hey,” I protest, trying not to laugh. “I happen to be great at—”

I break off when I hear a sniggering noise coming from her. I grab my phone from her hand and turn the flashlight on her, and sure enough, she’s got one hand clamped over her mouth as she laughs. I purposely keep my eyes on her and ignore the bed illuminated in the back of the room.

“You’re so funny,” I say, grinning. “Really funny. Just hilarious.”

“I’m just kidding,” she says, her smile wide, and she rests her hand on my arm. “I’m sure you’re great at all kinds of jokes.” The light of my phone casts long shadows over her face.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, still smiling. But my smile fades slightly as I say, “Virginia always wants to be the best. She wants to be the prettiest, the most desired.”

“Like I said,” Mina says. “She feels threatened.”

“Her mom has been through four husbands,” I say, pausing to think. Then I shrug. “Maybe she’s just always been shown that being pretty and having guys swarming around is the way to show how impressive she is or something. Can you put the light back on the bookshelf?” I hand her the phone again.

When I get all the books off the shelves—stacked, likesomeoneinsists—I eye the empty bookcase. “What now?” I say. “It’s just a bookcase.”

“Now we look—” she begins, but the light of my phone dims and then flickers. One second later, the light disappears completely. “Or not,” she mutters.

I sigh as I feel the darkness settle around me. I’m not worried for our safety; not really. As mean as Virginia might be, she’s not going to just leave us here forever. And we have Mina’s phone; we’ll keep feeling for hidden triggers or handles.

In just a second.

Because something about the darkness makes me tired in a way that has little to do with lack of sleep—I feel heavy. I turn around and feel blindly for the wall that I know is right behind me. When my hands hit the cool concrete, I place my back to it and slide slowly to the floor.

I let my head lean back against the wall, and we’re silent for a long minute.

“I read the letters from my dad,” I say suddenly into the black.

Huh. I wasn’t planning on saying that, but somehow it’s easier to say when I can’t see Mina looking at me. And as little as I like talking about this stuff, it’s actually been nice having someone to talk about it with, so I brace myself and go on. “He’s getting married.”

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