Page 32 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
“I don’t have to keep you updated on every aspect of my life, Danny.” He fell in step with me as I hurried down the empty hall.
“There you go again talking about this ‘life.’” He flourished a hand in the air. Life was spectacular in one way, but becoming complicated in others. “Am I supposed to believe miracles do happen?”
“Fuck you,” I pushed at his shoulder lightly. This was the cost of being a predictable introvert. Every non-predictable move became suspect.
He gasped, his fingers pressed daintily to his parted mouth. “Phoenix Michaelson, did you say a bad word?” He moved in front of me, causing me to bump up against him. “And where’d the cute muscles come from, hmmm?”
I tugged at my tight shirt.
“Yeah, I noticed. You’re changing, Pheeny. We hardly see you anymore, and when we do, you act like some secret agent. James Bond,” he supplied. “Not circa Pierce Brosnan, because fuck he was bad—”
“—Danny!”
“We’re your friends. We’re always there for each other. When Theory’s parents are driving her to drink, we band together and eat ice cream all night. When my parents were talking divorce,” he whispered, and I fought to keep my breakfast down after flashing back to Emily and Sebastian, “you practically moved into my bedroom. You watchedPretty in Pinkwith me twenty times to keep me sane.” He waited, hurt carved into his features, and my heart screamed for me to fix things. “It’s not Mason. You screwed that up for reasons I still don’t get, but whatever. So what gives?”
The bell rang. I was officially late to Bash’s class. “Look, I gotta go…” I said apologetically. He shook his head and walked off in a huff. “We’ll talk later. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you both.” I couldn’t go on like this any longer, and they deserved better than what I had been giving them.
I’d skirted Theory’s glare when I entered class, but I didn’t miss Sebastian’s questioning look. He’d asked her to stay behind after class was over, probably sensing my anxiety and picking up that it had something to do with her. He’d provided a clear path for my escape.
“Talk,” Theory said, slamming her tray onto the table and falling into her seat. Danny waited too.
My apple fell from my hand to my plate, and I pushed my tray away. “You have to swear you won’t repeat what I tell you—”
“When have we ever—”
“—Swear it, Theory.” And to Danny, I said, “You too.”
They stared at each other, getting the severity of the situation. I thrummed my fingers on the table while they gave their agreement. “Okay, we swear,” she said, crossing her heart.
The football team and their groupies entered, raising the noise level in the room. We sat at our usual table in the corner to the right of the lunchroom doors. I ran a hand down my mouth and spoke in a hushed tone. Theory and Danny inched from their chairs as they leaned in closer to hear me over the ruckus. “I’m seeing a teacher. Romantically.”
“You dirty dog.” Danny raised a palm for a high-five. Theory lowered into her seat, not as impressed. Mr. Wicked wasn’t on Danny’s radar, but Theoryknew.And because the universe loved to align, at that exact moment, the volume in the cafeteria petered out to something more manageable, and Sebastian entered through the cafeteria doors. Horror flashed across my face as Danny being Danny continued talking, oblivious to what was unfolding. “Mason wasn’t enough for the Pheenster, huh? So who is the lucky devil? Anyone I know? Not hairy-Mcscary from the science department?”
Sebastian’s jaw sharpened enough to cut glass, and then he was gone. I wanted to run after him, but I couldn’t. I wanted to fall to the floor and curl into a ball, but I couldn’t. So I kept my eyes cemented on Theory and prayed she wouldn’t leave out of that door too. Because suddenly, I was worried that I’d need them the same way we’d needed each other during the heartbreaking times in our lives. Had I just ruined everything?
“Pheeny.” She shook her head, the heavy disappointment hurt more than I thought it would. I needed them. Their support. Now that I’d admitted my truth, and my imperfections were laid bare, I needed them to still love me.
Chapter 11
Sebastian
“Choice, not chance, determines our destiny.”
~Aristotle
His key entered the lock, and I pushed up from the couch, waiting for him.
He took care to close and re-bolt the door. To set his bag down on the floor. To remove his shoes—something he’d never done upon entering.
I’d heard and seen enough of his conversation with his friends to put the pieces together. From the look on Ms. Kumar’s face, I could only imagine the direction the discussion went in after my departure. “Phoenix—”
“I had to tell them. Our friendship depended on it.”
“I—”
“They won’t say anything. I promise. I’d been isolating myself from them. They knew something was wrong, Sebastian. I had to saysomething.” He remained near the door, while I gathered my winding thoughts. “Bash, say something.”
“Give me a moment, Phoenix,” I said curtly, then apologized. The fault here was mine. As mature as Phoenix may have been, the fact of the matter was that he was still young; he couldn’t possibly grasp the magnitude of what this secret getting into the wrong hands would mean for us. For me. And yet, I couldn’t let him go. Even then, with dirt raining down on my head as I stood in the hole I’d dug with bare hands, I knew I wouldn’t save us. I couldn’t walk away now, so I’d wager our lives on the devotion of his friends.
