Page 81 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

Switching my arms for Shanice’s, she whimpers a pitiful, “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Marcus says when he steps in.

“Take Harlow back to the party,” she tells him, and when I stand, I look down to Max as she cries, and my heart breaks for her.

“You aren’t going to punish her, are you?” I ask. “It’s her birthday.”

“Go back to the party, Harlow.”

“Come on,” Marcus says before we head to the rec room. “I know you don’t need me to reiterate the rules, but—”

“She just needed a friend.”

Without another word, he leads me into the rec room, and I spot Sebastian over by the television with most of the others. He and Jeremy are laughing about something, and I can’t help but wonder what’s inside his head and why he’s even wasting his time with me—the worthless.

He looks up and locks eyes with me. A second passes, maybe even two or three before I turn and go back to Marcus.

“Everything okay?”

“You think I can go to the breathing room until it’s time for bed?” I ask, needing space from the group.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

HARLOW

After picking up my breakfast tray, I veer away from my normal table because everyone is laughing at something Sebastian said. After talking to Max last night, I’ve been thinking too much, and now I’m leery of him. It isn’t what I want, but the feeling is there nonetheless.

I end up at an empty table next to the windows and pick at my blueberry muffin while I sink into my mind. As the mist collects on the glass, I wonder if the sky ever grows frustrated. Washington is constantly on the brink of a full-blown storm. The gloom and rain are incessant, yet it rarely ever erupts.

Clouds are tangled in pent-up devastation, much like myself.

I feel too much, but it’s trapped inside of me just as the thunder and lightning.

The weather doesn’t rage very often ... neither do I.

“What’s going on?” Sebastian asks when he sets his tray next to mine and takes a seat. “Why aren’t you sitting with us?”

“It’s never bothered you in the past.” My defensiveness comes automatically.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Have I done something?”

I pluck out a blueberry and slip it into my mouth, avoiding eye contact because this whole situation has me extremely insecure.

“Harlow.”

“Why are you even talking to me?” I finally look at him as he stares at me in confusion. “Forget it.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” he says. “What’s going on?”

Nervously, I continue to mutilate the defenseless muffin with my fingers.

“You know I’m not going to leave you alone until you talk to me.”

Dropping my hand down to my lap with a heavy sigh, I ask, “Are we even friends?”

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