Page 75 of Fighting

Lily waves at Liam, and when he lowers his axe, she approaches and asks for a turn. After a quick lesson from him, she chops off a piece of the old stockade and raises it above herhead triumphantly. “As a council member, I hereby promise we will never rebuild these things!”

A few folks cheer, though far more wear confused looks, and many dash to their cars to head home. Once everyone is cleared out, I do the same.

I popped into my parents’house and bummed a container of homemade soup my mom had stored in the freezer.

She also let me raid her pantry, so I stocked up on all the comfort foods I like when I don’t feel well, then I headed to Nessa’s place.

I knocked and rang the bell, but nobody answered, so I left the food on the covered front stoop and sent her and Delia each a text about it.

Now, I’m sitting on the ridiculous blue plaid couch at Stef’s, flipping channels. Every time I come to a family sitcom from my childhood I see some version of this damn couch.

“Stef, tomorrow I am throwing out this fucking couch. It looks like it belongs in one of these reruns.”

Across the room Lee gives me a worried look. She doesn’t speak or even look up.

“What’s with her?” I mouth to my brother-in-law.

“Midterms,” he says like it explains it all.

“How are your studies going?” I ask him.

“I’m almost ready for skin. Just need a volunteer.”

A volunteer, huh? Hmm. “I might be able to help,” I say.

thirty-two

Nessa

Bad Idea:

I’m headed to the square to move hay from the maze to soak up the mud before today’s events.

Nessa:

I’ll meet you there.

I’m makingmy way into one end of the maze, map in hand, when footsteps sound behind me.

“I can start here, you start on the other side, we’ll cover more ground,” I grumble.

A weird discomfort has pressed on my chest all morning. Blowing out a noisy breath I accept that yesterday was pretty uncomfortable too, and I was taking it out on almost anyone who I saw. I should try to tamp that down better today.

Caleb is around today. Nothing good happens when he’s around.

“What if you fall? What if there’s quicksand? Or a secret Bermuda triangle?” Mateo teases.

“If I fall, I’ll stand up. If there’s quicksand or a Bermuda Triangle… I will call for a cartoon character.” I pinch my lips together, tamping down the desire to throttle Mateo.

“Nessa,” he says, his brows pulled down. “It’s going to be fine. I promise.” He reaches out in an attempt to soothe me but stops inches from my arm and drops his hand.

My heart pinches painfully. What the hell is wrong with me?

I want him to hug me. I step into his personal space inviting his touch.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.” I deflect, trying to hide the tears blurring my vision. I know he’s trying, I’m trying too.Scared but brave?How aboutbraving it solo.

We’ve wound to the middle of the maze already, and he’s so close I can smell the aftershave he used on his smooth jawline. His eyes are a rich brown, swirled with lighter streaks. When he looms over me like this, I feel small. My breath comes heavy as my pulse picks up. It is hard to stay coherent when he infiltrates all my senses like this.

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