Page 92 of The Black Table
But calmer, maybe.
Like I’m done for now.
I square my shoulders, blow out a breath, toss the ugly clump into a trash basket and dare to survey myself in the mirror. The damage is hidden—or hidden enough.
Not like anyone who looks at me will care.
With a hand towel, I wring all the water I can out of my hair, then deposit it in a laundry basket. I linger a moment, my breathing returning to baseline, my heart squeezing less and less frantically.
Something skims off the edge of my chin—a drop of water, not from my hair.
There are tears in my eyes, I realize. I’m crying.
I need to get out of here.
I could wait until everyone leaves. Or I could just get it over with and hide.
Resolved, I push through the swinging door—and into something.
Someone.
TWENTY-THREE
LANZ
“Gwenna,”I say, breathless, “Hi.”
I’m…overwhelmed. Flustered. I can’t believe I did it, can’t believe I pulled off foil at the last minute like that, and against Drummond from Sainte-Odile, who’s a senior and no slouch.
But my excitement fades,plummets, as soon as I take her in.
“Gwenna,” I say again. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, says nothing. But her eyes are red and swollen, her expression tight, and her hair is hanging damp over her shoulders.
“Nothing,” she manages at last. She tips her chin up to face me, and it’s even more obvious that she’s lying. “It was just…”
Realization hits like a sledgehammer. My voice turns to stone. “What did they do to you?”
She presses her lips together. Lets out a shuddering breath. Mutters something I can’t hear.
I lean in, heart pounding. “Say again,” I ask gently.
“I said, whatdidn’tthey do?” She hugs her arms around herself, slowly shaking her head back and forth. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Adrenaline, pure and uncut and already primed from my timeon the strip, surges in my veins. “Those bastards,” I grind out. “I’m going to kill them. I’m going to?—”
“Wait!”
She reaches, grabs at my wrist, and just the brush of her fingers is enough to hold me in place.
I wait.
“Don’t,” she says. “You’ll…it’ll just make it worse.”
I clench my jaw. “No. Not if I make it clear that?—”
“Lanz,” she says, and her voice is so firm and resolute that it startles me. “Please.”
