Page 83 of Torn

What will he say?

What can he say?

The rooftop is her sanctuary, so he avoids it, not wanting to intrude. Loss pokes a hole in his chest, because he’s no longer welcomed there. The place where a globe mobile hovers, the place where she made an outdoor room for him, the place with a sign that says,Home.

He hazards walking through the observatory’s front door, trespassing into the foyer where the pendulum swats within a crater, where a pastel mosaic of stars swim in the floor. There’s an echoing quiet, in which Anger can hear his own stupidity. Too late, he realizes this is a bad idea.

Whipping around to leave, he achieves one step before a smarmy voice calls from above, the words dropping like rocks. “If you didn’t have such an iconic face, I’d smash it to a pulp.”

Anger glances at Envy, who’s leaning over the mezzanine’s railing, his wrists crossed and dangling over the side. Before Anger can respond, purple hair and a set of half-moon eyes emerge.

Sorrows scowls. “Ugh. If mortals are right about one thing, it’s that patience is a virtue. Do you have any idea what the shelf-life of a proper wallow is? Go away, Anger. Come back when Merry’s found her roar and you’ve found your grovel.”

“You hear that?” Envy adds. “Shoo.”

“Where is she?” Anger asks.

Rather than answer, they hurdle over the railing and hit the foyer, forming a blockade. They’re usually a mocking, pretentious lot. Not a protective one.

Anger doesn’t know whether to laugh without humor or suffer without dignity. They’re ganging up on him. He remembers the feeling of being ostracized, except he deserves it more than ever. And if he’s going to lose respect from his peers, at least they’re supporting Merry. At least he’s losing them to her.

A cascade of blonde hair and a ship of curves sweeps between the archers. “Come defend yourself,” Wonder petitions, striding past him on her bare feet, her green gown swatting her legs.

Anger is grateful for the offer, even while repentance and a defensive streak bump against each other, wrestling for a prime spot on his tongue. They pass through a hall and sequester themselves in the planetarium dome, where the telescope cranes its neck toward the sky.

Wonder halts at the instrument’s base and spins, her skirt fanning. He muses how long she’ll last before changing back into the harem pants. Or maybe she’s switching up her style these days, exploring her options.

She studies him like an encased mineral, rare and inexplicable. Leave it to this goddess to be the only one without a bias.

A tired, disappointed sigh unfurls from her lips. “Oh, Anger.”

“Love deserved to know who she was,” he snaps. And leave it to him to blurt out something serrated, even if that hadn’t been his intention.

“Yes,” Wonder agrees. “As you deserve to know who youcanbe.”

He can’t fathom how to reply. But he does fathom how the statement makes him feel: chaotic, nostalgic.

“Growing up, you were both so similar,” Wonder imparts. “The same temperament, the same stubbornness, militant yet defiant in your own ways. The only distinction was Love’s curiosity for humans and your ignorance of them, and perhaps a little of her mischief versus your rigidity. You fought like wildcats, but can you truly say that you ever challenged each other? Did she inspire you? Or you, her?”

“If you think I’m suddenly going to realize that I never loved her, you’re wrong.” But the testimony leaves a tang in his mouth, like fruit that has lost its ripeness, a crop that can’t be preserved.

“It’s not about realizing you never loved her,” Wonder alleges. “It’s about realizing you can love again—perhaps more than you ever have.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because this time, it isn’t one-sided. You get to share your love with someone who wants it. You get to love Merry and be loved in return. You get to know what that’s like.” Her eyes shimmer. “Don’t forsake your luck. Don’t be selfish with your heart.”

Anger swerves his head toward the dome’s transparent gap. It’s going to rain tonight, heavy enough to drown the stars.

What the goddess professes…it bears resemblance to her past, her mistakes. It resurrects the visual of her and Malice in the library. Her haunted expression and the way she’d traced the starburst scars.

“Why did you react to Malice the way you did?” he asks.

Wonder’s rickety smile levels at the sky. “He reminds me of someone I knew.”

“Is that someone a human?” It’s an implausible question, a reckless one that makes no sense. And when she offers no reply, he realizes whom Malice reminds her of—whom he resembles.

Wonder has never honored Anger with the backstory in its totality, but he knows the major points and what it cost her.

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