RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,124
Jana, the academy’s seventy-year-old housekeeper, uses to hand polish the wood paneling every Wednesday. I know the hollow echo of voices that bounce around the high-ceiling hallways and classrooms whenever the bell rings. I know the honeyed quality of the light that pours in through the library windows, and I know the texture of the wooden desk beneath my fingertips in my French class.
Two weeks pass, and gradually Wolf Hall begins to feel like a home of sorts. And every opportunity we get, Wren and I meet in the library’s conveniently sound-proofed microfiche room—turns out that’s what was behind Wren’s secret hidden door—or the attic, and even in my room once or twice, when I knew for sure that Carina wasn’t going to barge in unannounced.
Wren’s ever himself, but I learn more and more of him every day; unexpected doors open to me, revealing something about him, details no one else knows, that I hoard to myself, the information more precious than gold or rubies.
He hates the texture of peanut butter in his mouth.
Whenever he smells the ocean, he thinks about losing one of his front teeth when he was eight.
He thinks the word sesquipedalian is the best word in the English language, which is ironic because it means ‘given to using long words,’—which he most certainly is.
He secretly loves dogs but won’t admit to loving anything if he doesn’t have to.
Birds intrigue him.
Sailing, swimming, and reading make him feel alive.
We talk for hours. I know him now, but in the same vein, it often feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface when it comes to Things To Know About Wren.
We trade secrets and kisses and breath, and we hide away from the world, making sure no one knows when we’re together. I don’t mind the sneaking around or the thrill that chases up my spine when we come close to being caught. It just seems normal.
The last weekend in February rolls around, and out of nowhere, the weather picks up. The grey skies clear, and the rain quits relentlessly lashing at the academy’s walls, and the temperature even manages to lift the mercury a little, rising into the sixties. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sun that the change in the weather, temporary though it might be, raises my spirits and makes me so giddy that Carina asks me if I’m doing drugs.
“I’m not saying I’d judge you if you were. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you this...bouncy.”
On the front lawn of the academy, I stop bouncing on the balls of my feet, poking my tongue out at her. “I just forgot how good vitamin D is. Don’t you feel alive? Like you could take on the world?”
“I have to fly to New York this afternoon to get two filings. No, I do not feel like I could take on the world,” she says dryly. “I mean, my mother’s so fucking weird. She knows there are perfectly good dentists close by, but no. I have to go see her dentist.”
“Yeah. But Andre’s going with you. And you’re gonna go out for a romantic dinner, and he got you tickets to see Hamilton. Once the dentist part’s out of the way, you’re gonna have an amazing time in the city and you know it.”
She harrumphs. “I hate the fucking dentist. I can’t stand the smell or the sound of the drill. Dentists get away with all kinds of fucked up things, y’know. The amount of women who get sexually assaulted by dentists is—” she puffs out her cheeks. “The number’s frighteningly high. If you ever need to be put out for a procedure, always make sure you have someone come in and sit with you. Otherwise, you’ll never know who’s been touching you.”
“A cheery thought to start Saturday off right,” I say, beaming at her. “It’s gonna be fine. You’ll be in and out, and then you can enjoy your time with Andre.”
“Mmm.” She smiles, but she doesn’t seem too convinced. “What are you gonna do today? Sorry I’m bailing on you again.”
“Oh, y’know. I’m gonna sink my teeth into this.” I hold up the book in my hands. “Harcourt delivered my new laptop and a bunch of other stuff last night. I can catch up on my Netflix to-watch list if I want a distraction.”
“Okay, well. Next weekend, we’ll do something cool, I promise.”
When Andre’s black Ford F150 pulls up into the turning circle, she groans like he’s about to cart her off to hell