Page 32 of The Black Table
No.Get a grip, Gwenna.I give my head a swift shake. What the hell was I even planning to say, exactly? Going to beg them to form a protective circle around me? Because they’re not the solution. Or even the problem.
I just need to…get out of here.
Escape, calm down, and figure out some Plan B for proving how carefree and well-adjusted I am.
This whole thing was a mistake.
I clutch my drink a little tighter.
“Thanks for the…” I trail off, realizing I don’t know what, if anything, I have to thank them for. “I’m going to…”
But they’ve already disappeared.
“Gwenna!”
Blonde hair, a tart little smile. It’s Claire.
“I’m so surprised to see you here,” she says, in a tone of voice that suggests this isn’t precisely a compliment. She swings her hair over her shoulder, revealing collarbones dusted with shimmer above a bronze-colored tube-top. “The caps are pretty…lively early in the year.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “You can say that again.”
We’re on the edge of the dance floor, not mixed into the crowdbut just beside it, and the pumping of the music and writhing of the dancers makes it feel as claustrophobic as an iron maiden.
Next to her, Elena sips her drink, shifts her weight toward me, smile tilting just a little too slow, like her center of gravity isn’t quite cooperating. Her drink sloshes over the rim as she takes a step closer.
“So you’re Little Miss Thing,” she whisper-shouts in my ear. “What’s yourdeal?”
I blink. “I’m…sorry?”
“You come out ofnowhere,show up weirdly, like…late,” Elena says, glancing at Claire, “you show off in French?—”
My chest clenches.I wasn’t showing off.
I hate that. Hate that so much. Any time I show enthusiasm, get into what I’m doing, it’s alwaysGwenna, stop showing off.
Like that’s why I’m doing it. For attention.
Is it so hard to believe that maybe I justlikeit?
That I’mgood at it?
Elena’s still talking. “…and somehow you’re in with thefencingteam?” The incredulity in her voice has strayed from gossipy-casual to genuinely harsh.
I grip my glass harder. “I’m notin with them,” I say as evenly as I can. “And I wasn’t showing off.”
“Sure,” Elena drawls. “You’re just carrying around that little handkerchief for no reason. No reason whatsoever.”
“I…” There’s no easy explanation for why I have it.I’mnot even sure why I have it.
“They don’t date, you know,” Claire interjects. “They’re sworn not to. For…focus and stuff.”
“Okay?” I say. “I don’t want to date them.”
Elena laughs. “Oh, really? Then why were they all over you just now?”
Is she serious? “All over me?Come on.” I laugh, trying to break the tension. But it backfires. Hard.
“Don’t fuckinglaughat me,” Elena says, voice shrill enough to draw a few stares. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
