to Zoe what I barely understand myself: the long progress of Dean’s and my relationship from hatred to lust to love.
If it ever was love at all.
“He changed, and so did I. We connected in a way I’ve never felt before. And I thought we were . . . I thought it was something special. But now I fucked it up. Or he did. I don’t know, I’m so confused . . .”
Zoe sighs, trying to parse my rambling to find the truth.
“He really hurt me,” I sob, remembering Dean’s words cutting me deeper than any knife.
You thought I would like that? Are you fucking stupid?
You’re nothing to me.
“If he hurt you, then he doesn’t love you,” Zoe says.
It’s not what I want to hear. But the wrenching pain in my chest tells me that she might be right.
“When someone loves you, they’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
I want Zoe to be wrong. She’s never wrong, though.
“What should I do?” I ask her.
“Stay away from him,” Zoe says. “And make sure no one else finds out about . . . you know.”
“He won’t tell,” I assure her.
As furious as Dean might have been, he’ll keep my secret anyway. I still feel certain of that.
A dry branch creaks behind me.
I whirl around, thinking Dean came looking for me.
There’s nothing there.
It was probably just a squirrel, or one of the several cats that prowl the school grounds.
“And by the way, Cat . . .” Zoe says.
“What?”
“Thank you for what you did. I hate what it must have cost you . . . but just know, I’m finally happy. Finally at peace. Because of you.”
Her words put warmth in my chest, where there had only been ice.
“It had to happen,” I tell her. “It’s exactly what you said—when someone loves you, they’d do anything to keep you safe.”
I’m gripping the phone tight, wishing I could hug my sister just as hard.
“Te amo, hermana,” she says.
“Te quiero,” I reply.
23
Dean
After Cat leaves the Bell Tower, I stay up there alone for hours, pacing back and forth in an agony of indecision.
I fucking hate what Cat did. I hate the image she put in my head of my mother and her new fucking family, her new child, the one that replaced me.
I hate knowing that she’s living in Chicago, fully moved on without me.
And yet, pathetically, I find myself scrabbling through the torn-up pieces of paper on the floor until I find the ones that show my mother’s face.
I try to piece them together again.
It doesn’t work. I destroyed them past recognition.
I want to go find Cat. But she doesn’t want to see me right now.
Actually, she said she never wants to see me again.
Did she really mean that?
If she did, then I don’t know what I’ll do.
Something fucking drastic.
Close to midnight, I finally leave the Bell Tower. I wander around campus until I happen upon a party in the old stables on the northwest corner of campus. The festivities are nowhere near as well-organized as when Miles Griffin used to run the show, but the music is loud and Louis Faucheux is selling 40s for $100 a pop.
I don’t usually drink.
Tonight seems like the perfect time to start.
I down half the bottle while gambling away the rest of my cash on street dice with Bram, Valon, Motya, and Pasha.
“That’s more like it!” Bram says, roaring with laughter as I roll an eleven, winning a hefty bet off Valon. “Nice to have the old Dean back.”
I take another swig of my drink.
“Yeah, you like the old Dean?” I say blearily. “That makes one of us.”
Pasha calls Bodashka and Vanya Antonov to join us. They’re at least as drunk as I am, Bodashka’s broad face flushed red, and Vanya swaying a little as he saunters over.
Bodashka gives me a grudging greeting, and even Vanya nods in a manner that might be interpreted as friendly.
“I didn’t think you drank,” Vanya says to me.
“I don’t.”
“What’s that, then?” He grins, jerking his chin toward my half-empty bottle.
“Anesthetic.”
“Oh yeah, the new doctor gave you that?” He chuckles. “She’s a hell of an improvement over the old one.”
“Careful,” I say.
“Don’t worry.” Vanya holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I have no intention of drawing the wrath of our boxing instructor. I learned my lesson the first day of class.”
“Not your most brilliant moment, Dmitry,” Bodashka snickers.
“It was certainly educational,” I say, taking another swig.
Bodashka and Vanya look surprised that I’m not instantly infuriated by their comments.