I work extra hard at looking good. If nothing else, Tally will surely notice my attempts to appease the fashion police. I’m not worried as much about Declan. Since he’s swept up in Kiley, he likely doesn’t even realize a full week has passed.

Regrettably, neither will be Brody in the easy department. He didn’t need a long, drawn out apology. Nor did I have to hunt him down, stalker land-walker that he is. He expected my reaction. Probably was even relieved by it to an extent.

The Keanes are an entirely different matter. They’ll need more from me. I’m at an extreme loss for how to give it. You know what they say about assuming, and I undoubtedly proved why that stereotype is true. How do I seal this fissure?

Declan and Tally aren’t outside my house waiting to drive me to school. Why would they be? I gave them zero reason to show up. Okay, so maybe I was a wee tad hopeful Ryan would smooth things over. Obviously, that didn’t happen. More hard lessons, I guess.

The walk to school is typical, a northern mist fogging up the view. The grim atmosphere doesn’t soothe me like it once did, especially not today. I regret how things were handled last week. The biggest botch by far was my jarring lack of faith in them. I automatically believed the worst. Did I ask clarifying questions? No. No, I did not. I didn’t even have the decency to verify what Brody told me was true. Ryan, Declan, and Tally went out of their way to support me. They’ve spent countless hours fussing over me, asking for nothing in return. How did I thank them? By giving them my back at the first available opportunity.

Not even Tally, who’d gleefully shove me into the volcano herself, said a single word upon my abrupt eruption. They just let me leave, wrongly judging them, so I could stew in my misery as punishment for failing to give them the tiniest bit of faith they weren’t murderous monsters. Not a golden moment for me.

A car speeds by me, swerving inward just enough to make use of the pooled water on the roadway edge. Now I’m soaking wet. Excellent. I continue walking and don’t glorify the two teenage boys with a flinch for their splash antics. I’m used to these games, or I was prior to Tally adopting me. Today, I actually deserve it. More than deserve it.

Having a pity party of one this morning, are we? Superego snips.

By the time I get to CCHS, the second morning bell is already ringing. I peel off my drenched coat, place it inside my locker, grab my first period books, and head up the now empty halls that, only moments before, were full of domesticated animals in need of herding.

In the kiddie-pool side of my catastrophic existence, I’m a loner. Always have been. It’s for the sake of everyone around me. Anyone who tries to connect with me personally ends up in a shoddier emotional and/or physical state than they were prior to helping me. Hence the term loner and not lonely. I prefer the safety of solitude. Until the Keanes came into my life, at least.

My biggest concern isn’t what they’ll say to me. Sticks and stones and all that. What concerns me are their emotions. They can’t hide those. How can I focus on my necessary restraint if I’m sideswiped by how they feel? If it’s anything close to the emotional volatility I am, the danger of overflowing my magma chamber is real. Apologies are rough. Pending apologies are even rougher.

I take my time stashing my books at lunch. I’m in no hurry to enter the cafeteria since I’ve exiled myself from the popular clique. As anticipated, it’s full of noise. I set my eyes on my old table in the far back corner by the teacher’s lounge. No one ever wants to sit there, making it perfect for me. Woo! Bright side.

I stare at the food line in front of me while several eyes bore holes from the center table. I retrieve my tray, relieved by the concoction masquerading as food. I won’t have to pretend I like it.

Hey, remember the time you went giddy over grapes? Superego muses, trying to cheer me up.

I’m only at my table alone for a minute before Tally and Declan sit on either side of me. Their swarm joins soon after. Declan smiles at me, but Tally doesn’t pay me any direct attention, starting a group conversation about the proper way to accessorize in the firelight. She doesn’t miss a beat.

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I don’t say a word, mindlessly stirring my soup. How can we pretend I haven’t just spent this last week shunning them? Neither is upset. Not even a flicker of resentment, pity, or disgust. Nothing. Everything feels normal.

“Let’s not sit here tomorrow,” Tally finally addresses me.

“Okay.”

I exhale slowly and smile, knowing things are cool. It’s like I never left. Part of me, the scared and confused part, questions what my future holds. The connected and receptive part trusts that regardless of what trials and tribulations wait for me, I won’t meet them alone.

My family, which seems to be growing daily, will hold me up when I need support and give me space when I need to walk alone. Despite the terrifying prospect of my future, sitting between Declan and Tally gives me the confidence to face it.

----------------------------------------

The week goes by smoothly, and much to my relief, I’m no longer the shining star of the group. I’m simply part of it. Everyone has their own things going on. Tally’s mostly in her room. Her stunt double is capitalizing on the newfound romance. I’m grateful each time she retreats upstairs. Watching her drift aimlessly through the house with a half-smile is voyeur territory. Declan frequently defects, too. I don’t blame them. In fact, I’m happy for their happiness. As Ryan said, they’re different, and I can’t see anything bad in that.

Brody prefers outside to inside the house. We wear lines in the property perimeter, strolling along the thawing snow and gazing at the still-frozen water. I force myself into two daily runs, morning and night, with him as my faithful running partner. Sometimes, Connor joins us, but I haven’t seen Molly since our initial introduction. Her continued avoidance makes it tough to count on her calculated coldness as my golden escape ticket.

Better leave that pot simmering, Superego advises. Just put it on the back burner.

In theory, that’s solid advice. Problem is, my back burner is out of commission, courtesy of a sledgehammer named Derry.

“Why don’t you just call him?”

Brody and I have been having this same argument daily. He tells me to call Derry. I tell him to bite me. Both of us are serious. The routine is comfortable.

“Invite him to Tally’s fire thing,” he pushes.

“It’s not my party.” Bad excuse or not, I have no qualms grasping at straws if it gets them off my camel’s back.

“She probably already invited him. She sees him daily.”

I’m aware how often she sees him, and I can’t help being jealous. Unfortunately, I’m too big a chicken to proactively resolve the issue.

“I ignored his texts, Brody.”

Thirty-eight messages were waiting for me after turning my phone back on. Only two were from Derry. The first was a question. The second was resignation.

“Technically, you didn’t ignore him.”

I kick at the ever-diminishing slush piles. It’ll take another week for winter’s death stench to set in. “You know what I like about you, Brody?”

“What’s that?”

“You’re ridiculously loyal, even when I mega mess up.” I guide him to a pile of chopped wood stacked for the upcoming fire.

“That’s the dog in me.”

Picking up a piece of kindling, I wave it back and forth. “Who’s a pretty puppy?”

I toss it, half expecting him to give chase after me instead of the stick—it would serve me right—but he doesn’t have a chance. A gray ball of fur leaps over the wood pile, catching the kindling between its massive jaws. I scan the beast from its scraggly head to its charcoal-colored paws. They’re canine-like, though not doggish. It’s more a mix of wolf and bear, standing on all fours higher than a horse. Terrifying, that’s what they are.

Leaning back on its haunches, an enormous tongue peaks over the corner of sharp teeth. It blows out a breath in my direction, covering my face in snot mist. “Gross,” I admonish.

It has to be Connor. Molly would’ve straight up eaten me. I take a giant whiff. Maple and Marjoram. Definitely Connor. “Do you suppose he’d let me...” I murmur. “Would he be insulted if I...”

Brody snickers. “You won’t any more than lose a hand.”

Indicating his approval, Connor lies flat on the ground. He rolls over, causing the earth to vibrate under my feet.

“He hasn’t found his grace yet.”

“How old is he?”

“About fifty years old.”

I laugh. “He’s older than you?”

He grunts. “Go ahead. Laugh it up. If pupper cub takes off a limb, I don’t want to hear any whining.”

“He won’t hurt me.” I cautiously step ahead, stopping when his monster tail slaps the ground. It sounds disturbingly similar to thunder.

“You sure?” The hint of amusement in Brody’s voice gives me the courage to advance.

Who needs fingers? Superego asks unhelpfully.

I tentatively slide my hand along his snout to his ears for a scratch. His fur looks coarse, but it’s impossibly soft. He proceeds to yip and give me a sloppy lick up my arm. I wipe it on my pants, knowing Tally won’t appreciate the stain it leaves. Point to me. Or Connor. Whoever.

“You’re adorable,” I coo.

I scratch and pet him until loud coughing steals my joy. “Smelling like a wild animal isn’t the kind of impression you want to make tonight,” Tally informs me.

“What do you care, Daisy-pusher?” Brody crows.

“Yeah, you’ll be too busy making googly-eyes at Barry to notice my smell,” I add.

She smirks and heads for the house, pausing halfway to clip something guaranteeing my cooperation. “Suit yourself. Derry won’t like it, though.”

I gasp. Derry’s coming? I’m following her inside before the door closes.