Page 132 of Vicious Games

“My idiot brother’s fine,” she replies, turning to the mirror to smooth her hair like any other Tuesday. “Youare the one I’m worried about.”

“Me?” I ask in confusion, my heart still thudding. “Why? What is this about?”

She turns around and leans back against the sink, gripping its edges to ground herself. “My brother did something really stupid yesterday. Dragged me into doing something equally stupid with him. And it’s all because of you.”

“Because of me?” I place a hand on my chest in astonishment.

“Yes. You,” she says, losing patience. “This leads me to think one of two things. Either you two are banging—”

“We’renotbanging!” I interrupt, my cheeks burning all of a sudden.

“Or,” she says, talking right over me, “he’s in love. And before you make me repeat myself, yes, in lovewith you.”

My heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m positive she can hear it. “What… what did he do?” I stammer.

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s not thinking straight, which means you have to.”

“I don’t understand,” I manage to say, barely above a whisper.

“Are you on the pill?” she asks, blunt as a hammer.

“I… I don’t think I’m comfortable having this conversation with you.”

“So that’s a no.” She groans. “Goddammit. Why am I even surprised? The nuns would rather hand out rosaries as birth control instead of condoms.”

“That’s not fair. And besides, aren’t you Catholic too?” I point out.

“Not by choice,” she grumbles. “Now come here.”

“Why? What are you going to do?”

“What I have to,” she says, fishing something from her coat pocket. “Believe me, neither one of us wants this. Especially me.”

“What the hell is that?!” I stumble backward when she pulls out a syringe, my eyes wide in shock.

“This?” She waves it casually. “This is a surefire way to make sure you don’t get pregnant and start pumping out tiny Lucianos anytime soon.”

“You are not going anywhere near me with that thing!”

“Fine. Then answer me this. Do you still want to be a nun?”

“I… I…”

“Ding! Time’s up,” she snaps. “If you’re unsure about your future, then you sure as hell better take precautions. Getting pregnant after high school isn’t a choice—it’s a sentence. It buries every dream you haven’t yet had time to name.”

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

She crosses her arms with a tight expression. “Do you want to get pregnant?”

“No. Not right now—”

“Did you just say not right now?” she laughs, though there’s no joy in it. “Frankie, nuns don’t get knocked up. You get that, right?” Her tone softens for the first time, and the heat in her voice cools to something almost like concern. “Look,” she says, “I get that you’re in this tug-of-war between what you think you want and what your heart’s already chosen. But if you’re going to be in that war, you need armor. You need options. And if you’re not going to use this,” she continues, waving the syringe again, “then I at least need to know you’re thinking with this,” she finalizes by pointing at her head.

I stand there, frozen. Because the truth is—I don’t know what I want. But I do know what I feel. And I also know that standing here, in a locked school restroom with Luciano Romano’s sister planning an ambush injection like some weird, aggressive fairy godmother, is probably not the healthiest way to sort out my problems or figure my life out.

“Stella,” I start, taking a few steps closer to her. “I appreciate the concern. I really do.”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming on,” she groans.

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