Page 34 of Sapphires and Snakes
“Princess,” Tamayo prompts with quiet reassurance.
I grimace, shame pulling at my gut. “A hug?”
“Of course.” She slides her arms around me without hesitation, holding me tight to her chest with her chin resting on my hair. My hands are trapped between us, my cheek pressed against the soft cashmere of her sweater. I pull in a deep breath and sink into the weight of her embrace as I build up metaphorical steel to gird my spine.
I don’t think I’ve ever asked for this before—support. Not for myself, at least. I’ve struck deals, asked for sweeteners, demanded entrance, but never let myself ask for something as simple as a hug to ground me before a difficult moment. And I’ve never had anyone to ask before, either. I let that realization fall to the back of my mind. There’s no time for it right now.
“Okay.” I lean back, and Tamayo loosens her grip. “I’m ready.”
Tamayo brushes my hair over my shoulder before releasing me. “I’ll grab Darius.”
“Meet you there.” I double-check my sweater’s fully tucked, my hair falling in manicured waves, my makeup un-smeared. Tamayo confirms I look presentable before she strides out of the kitchen. Before I follow, I grab the timer off the fridge. Father won’t ruin Nona’s pies—plus, it gives me an out if I need it.
ZARINA
When I step into the recreation room, Pat is sitting on a large bean bag chair with a controller in hand and a smirk on their face. A small crowd of kids is around them and their current opponent, yelling combos or talking shit or both. I enjoy the scene for a moment, unwilling to pop the bubble, and maybe kind of hoping to make my father wait longer than necessary.
But Pat spots me and immediately frowns, like they can tell from fifty feet away that something is wrong. Maybe they can, I don’t know. Either way, they pause the game, the kids groaning.
“Someone else deserves a chance to win.” They stand, waving the controller. “Who wants it?”
One kid—Harriet—plops down in Pat’s place and yanks the controller out of their hand. “Rematch when you get back. Gotta redeem myself.” And then they kick Pat out of the way.
Pat flicks their ear. “Manners, missy.”
Harriet glares at them. “Call me missy again, and I’ll kick harder.”
“What’s the gender neutral term, then?” Pat cocks their head, considering. “Punk?”
I half-smile as I watch them.
Harriet rolls their eyes. “Whatever.”
“You’re such a teen.” Pat shakes their head.
Harriet snorts, the fight on the screen resumed already and their fingers flying over the controls. “And you’re such a boring adult.”
“Excuse you.” Pat gasps dramatically. “I whooped your ass earlier.”
“A fluke.”
“We’ll see!” Pat strides across the room, the other kids laughing at the exchange as Harriet trounces the other kid inMortal Kombat. Pat’s face is bright with happiness, and I almost feel bad interrupting.
“Having fun?” I ask.
They arch a brow. “More than you. What’s up?”
God, I love them. They alwaysknow, to an extent that feels like it should be impossible to achieve. A look and they’re drawing weapons. A lip twitch and they’re standing at my shoulder. They’re better than a best friend.
I lower my voice. “Father’s here.”
Pat’s blue eyes harden like ice. They glance back to the kids in the recreation room then gesture me into the hall, away from innocent ears. “Where?”
“Atrium.”
They glance in that general direction. “How many?”
“Him and G—or that’s what Rita said.”
