Page 71 of The Casualty of Us
Because I’m missing shit.
Even after an entire semester of trying to work my way through her shell and the weeks of obsession that have come after. There are times that I watch her with Ollie or my eyes catch hers, and I just know that there’s something I’m missing there.
He takes a sip of his water and snorts, pointing at the book on my chest with it. “I can’t believe you’re still reading that shit.”
“It’s the only way she’ll talk to me.” I shrug unapologetically, mulling over whether enough time has passed that he might be feeling benevolent. “I’m actually ninety percent sure she ignored me on purpose when I tried to ask if she had any plans for summer the other day.”
“Probably.” He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”
Well, it’s notnotan answer…and I guess he hasn’t punched me in about a month now, so I’ll take my chances.
It can’t get much worse, at least.
Ollie turns to go, and I sit up, not wanting to miss my chance.
“Hey, man.” I toss the book onto the table, waiting until he looks back at me over his shoulder to add, “Your sister said something when we were suspended last month.”
“Yeah?” He lifts his brows at me with instant warning filling his eyes. “And?”
“Well.” I blow out a breath, dropping my eyes to the book and trying to work out what it is I’m even asking here. “It’s kind of a long story, but she was talking about Machiavelli and how sometimes she can forget that the means matter.”
I lift my gaze back up to check if this is ringing a bell with him but find his face is scrunched up like I’m going crazy.
“What the fuck are you talking about dude?”
“Fuck,” I groan, lifting a hand to push my hair back and wading through everything she told me at the lunch table that day. “She was saying how—I think she was saying that sometimes she can forget to have morality? Or empathy, maybe?”
His brows fall at that, and I hurry to get the rest out before he jumps back on punching me again.
“But that she’s usually aware of it and that you remind her?” I pause then, tensing up in case he chooses violence, but a few more seconds of him just staring has me tossing my hands in the air. “It’s fucking O, dude. She can explain how the car made it from point A to point B and I know she’s right, but somehow I’m still lost.”
“No, no.” He shakes his head. “It’s not that.” His face fills with a look like he tasted something sour before he ducks his head. “I just, uh….” My brows drop down as he fiddles withsomething in front of him, shoulders rising with an audible breath that has me second-guessing before he turns back around. “Tell me what she said again.”
He nods at the end of his words, dropping his bag as well, but there’s something there, though. Something hiding behind the warning that’s telling me I’m hitting close to home with this one.
Something almost like fear.
“So we had to readThe Princefor debate, right?” I start carefully, waiting until he leans against the kitchen counter to really get on with it. “We got into it in class because she was arguing for Machiavelli’s theory of using fear to control the people, which I opposed.”
“Naturally,” he snorts. “Because you’re a masochist.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “But then when we kinda hashed things out, she said that the prince should fear the people too.” His mouth drops a little, face going slack, and I shoot him a questioning look while finishing. “That she would never want to be him because she knows that sometimes she can forget that the means matter and that she knows it’s a flaw.”
“Oh.” He closes his mouth with a quick nod. “Interesting.”
I wait another couple of seconds for him to elaborate before glaring. “Seriously?”
“What?” He immediately scowls back.
“No way.” I shake my head, quite literally standing in the face of their twin games. “You gotta give me more than that. I brought it up. Now break it down for me because I’m sitting here reading about a guy named fucking Heathcliff—”
“Goddammit,” he groans, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fine, just shut up about the books already. I get enough of that from O.”
Silence falls between us as he drops his hand back down despite his words, though. Something aggressive filling thespace that’s only ever been there when it comes to one topic. Not that I can really blame him.
“You know O’s really fucking smart, right?”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “I caught that.”
