Page 67 of Even in the Dark

He answers right away. “School.”

Huh. Not the answer I was expecting. “So you like school?”

“Don’t necessarily like it. Just like going to school more than I ever liked not being allowed to go.”

Oh. Wow.

“Shit. So Phil keeping you home this week must be kind of like… a bad case of déjà vu, then.”

“Don’t know what that means.”

“It means this week must be sucking for you.”

He rubs the back of his neck. Another familiar gesture which is kind of… sweet. “Pretty much,” he mumbles.

And what is wrong with me? Not only noticing the raised vein that runs the length of his forearm, but finding it strangely attractive? God, am I turning into one of those girls like Victoria Ledworth and Taylor Karinski who notice these weirdly specific details about a guy?

He drops his hand when he sees me staring. I think he assumes I’m looking at the red horizontal scars along his forearm. Which yeah, I guess technically I am now. And there aren’t just those three red ones that he inflicted last week.There are a bunch of other ones, too. Which means Phil and his therapist must know about what he does to himself. It gives me a little relief. Still… there are so many of them. A few are pale pink, but most of them are white. Dozens of scars, at least, crisscrossed like tightly woven latticework.

That’s a lot of escaping.A lot of pain.

I avert my gaze. Force myself back to my feet to distract from what he just caught me staring at, before he gets pissed or reacts. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you aboutSleepwalkersince Friday.”

He doesn’t say anything. Which means at least he isn’t snapping at me to stop gawking and get the hell out of his room.

“I thought comics were supposed to be like… Superman and Thor and Hulk or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Thosearecomics.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. The best comic book heroes are more interesting than those guys.”

I thumb through his collection. “I get why you like them so much, now. Comics, I mean.”

“So, you finished the fifth issue?”

A question from Dylan always feels like such a precious thing. It makes me overthink my answer. Even one like this, with only a simple yes or no answer.

“Yeah. On the weekend.”

I want him to ask me questions that have strings of potential answers—strings of answers that have the potential to get woven into conversations. I’d even settle for a question that could lead to me being allowed to ask one back without him getting suspicious or annoyed.

“So?” he says. “You think Rick’s gonna become aware of the sleepwalker’s presence?”

And just like that—he delivers. I feel my chest flutter… because a question like that is a perfect start.

“He better. I’ll be pissed if he doesn’t… “ I tilt my head, eyeing him expectantly. “Tell me he’s going to realize in the next couple of issues.”

Dylan can’t keep himself from grinning. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile and my God… I wish I could see him shed his armor completely, because even seeing this tiny glimpse of what’s beneath it? It’s amazing. I hope he finds more reasons to smile now that he’s free from that psychopath who messed him up so badly.

“Ha! I knew it.” I grin back. “My boy Rick is totally going to catch on soon.”

Dylan shrugs. And this guy, who has perfected the art of the poker face and is usually such a sharp bluffer, is doing a terrible job at it right now. Seeing him this way is the highlight of my week.

I hold up the comic. “Well, I guess I’m just going to have to read on and find out, huh?”

“Guess so.” Another twitch at the corner of his lips.

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