Chapter Twenty-Four
TWENTY-FOUR
Andrew couldn’t remember the shape of himself, if he’d ever had one.
He felt nothing, saw nothing, as the forgotten garden fell away and he ran toward the dorms. A cool autumn breeze licked at his corners, and he’d never felt more like paper about to be swept into the sky. He wanted this to stop. He wanted to not be here. In his skin. In his head.
He was goddamn done.
He collided with a group of students exiting the library, knocking books and folders from their hands while they yelled after him. He kept running. Nothing mattered but the name tearing from his lips.
“Dove. DOVE.”
A pathetic boy made of glass and delicate things, running to his sister for help; it was an embarrassing picture, but he didn’t care.
Ahead, a ponytail of honey gold disappeared around the corner, and he plunged after her. But the path ended at the girls’ dorm—one place he couldn’t follow. She’d done that on purpose.
Everything inside him boiled over, a wave of something foul and black and malignant gushing up his throat to coat his tongue. They were twins, she his other half. She could not abandon him when he needed her most.
“DOVE. Please.” He tore forward, the world blurring around him.
He pushed through a group of girls hanging out in front of their dorm, and their voices rose, surprised and indignant. Words hit his back and slid off, meaningless. Someone said his name.
He shoved through their front door. “I have to find my sister. Dove? DOVE.”
A person blocked his path. He was so far underwater, drowning in ink, that he couldn’t make out her face or expression, could barely feel the timid hands on his shoulders, pushing him backward.
“Andrew, go back outside. Please, listen to me. Our supervisor will hear. Just—please?”
A dull part of his brain registered Chloe’s face before she propelled him outside with a surprising amount of force. Her brow scrunched up in anxious lines and she kept petting his arm as if to apologize for pushing him so hard.
As soon as they stumbled onto the grass, several of the other girls stormed over, arms folded.
“I’m so telling a teacher. No boys in our dorms.”
Chloe kept a firm grip on Andrew’s arm. “And I’ll tell Lana that you snitched. Do you want to deal with that?”
That shut them up. They backed off, but Andrew could still feel their suspicion and curiosity drilling holes in his back.
He had fallen halfway through time before realizing Chloe had left him and then returned with Lana.
He should be grateful, but he couldn’t feel anything.
He was numb, blinded with rage, and he didn’t know which way was up.
Lana stalked toward him, half in her drama costume with heavy eye makeup and an unreadable expression. “Andrew, what the hell?”
Whispers beat against his back.
“… that’s Andrew Perrault.”
“Do you hear what he did to his hand last year?”
“… I heard—”
“Oh my God, as in Dove’s brother?”
In his mouth, the forest flourished. Mud ground between his teeth, and he could feel damp leaves pasted to the back of his throat.
All he could see was Thomas, expression raw and hopeful.
Andrew, you’re beautiful.
The boy who loved no one loved him.
His explanation about being asexual had been a mess. But it wasn’t fair how he had one shot at coming out, at explaining himself, and if he tangled the words, then it was somehow his fault.
“Andrew? Hey? Hey. Look at me.”
Fingers snapped in front of his face and he inhaled so sharp it hurt. He hadn’t been breathing.
“I need Dove.” His voice shook with the effort to keep his voice level, to not sound like he was having a panic attack. “I need to talk to her. I-I-I have to.”
Lana exchanged a look with Chloe, both their expressions pinched. He was not theirs to deal with, and they owed him nothing, but the people he depended on had left him. They’d left him and they didn’t care and he needed someone.
His vision blurred.
“Do you want to call your dad?” Lana said slowly.
He swallowed. “No. It’s—I’m fine. It doesn’t matter. Did Thomas leave a sketchbook in Dove’s stuff?”
She looked startled. “Actually, yes. I was going to throw it out, but hadn’t gotten around to it.”
“Can I have it?”
“Sure … Are you okay?”
Andrew couldn’t look at her. “I’m fine.”
“Because you’re totally not having a panic attack right now.” Lana glanced over his shoulder for the familiar shadow that should be tethered to Andrew’s heels but wasn’t there. “Was Thomas being a prick?”
He said he loved me and then he called me a coward.
“Did they kiss?” Andrew had no idea how he was forcing the words out. “Thomas and Dove? He said it’s complicated.”
Lana hesitated. “I hate agreeing with him, but yeah, it is complicated. They were disasters about a lot of stuff. I shouldn’t say this, but also what the hell—Dove told me she used to think Thomas fought with people he liked because that’s how he knew to get attention.
But not with you. She told me, ‘Andrew is his safe space. He is forever gentle for Andrew.’” Her eyes narrowed.
“Is he pressuring you about anything? Because I will beat him up.”
“I think,” Andrew whispered, “it sucks to be ace.”
“I think,” Lana said, “the world sucks for making you feel that way.”
“I need to talk to her.” He pressed his palms against his eyes so hard that white stars burned behind his lids. “She was so angry at me, and I-I-I don’t understand. And now she’s abandoned me when I need her. Why is she doing this? We’re twins. I need her.”
He started toward the girls’ dorms again, but Lana shoved him back. He was taller, but she felt stronger.
“Getting expelled won’t help,” Lana said.
“You need to calm down. Now, listen. Chloe and I are late for GSA, but we’re not leaving you alone like this, so guess what?
You’re coming, too. You can sit in the back, you don’t have to participate.
” He started to shake his head, but she cut him off.
“Or I’ll take you to the nurse and she calls your dad. You are clearly not okay.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice still sounded wrong. Inside out. Drowned. He was drowning in front of everyone. “This is stupid and I’m messing up your plans. I’ll go—”
“Wrong. You’re with us. We can talk about what happened later. Also,” she added, “you’re allowed to be around people who aren’t Thomas.”
But he didn’t know how.
If a monster climbed out of the rosebushes right now with teeth as long as knives, Andrew would let it bite deep into his ribs and tear him in half like a rotted plum.
He just wanted everything to
stop.