Page 64 of Flickerstate

“Like something carved from stone. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you have a class nickname?”

“Afterthought.”

I stare at him. “I don’t get it.”

“Griffin is Golden Boy. Mirabel’s Resident World Controller. Jake… Jake was Mad Scientist. Big personalities. I hang out with them, but I’m not like that. I’m the afterthought.”

I have low expectations of other people. Meanness rarely surprises me. But this piece of stupid cruelty makes me want to punch a tree. “You were front of someone’s mind. Otherwise, they couldn’t have been such a bag of dicks to you.”

Vik laughs. “It’s not a big deal. I know what I’m like. Is thatwhat’s bothering you, that they’re calling you intense?”

“You heard that one.”

“Griffin told me.”

“Griffin probably started it.” Boy loves his nicknames. Maybe he decidedSupergirlwas too nice.

“I doubt it,” Vik says. “Every time he hears someone trying out names for Candace, he shuts them down hard.”

“I’m not his sister.”

“Uh. Very true. But if he started the ‘intense’ thing, he meant it as a compliment.”

“When someone calls a girl like me intense, it’s never a compliment.” I sigh and rub my face. “But no, that’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what?”

I wonder how honest to get. I shouldn’t show my throat to a competitor…but I can’t imagine Vik using what I say against me.

“I siphoned Candace and Bree during the last trial,” I say in a rush. “They’ve forgiven me, but I don’t deserve it, and I’m sleeping like shit, and I—I’m tired. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t tired.”

“Want to go back to the dorm and sleep?”

I strain to hear pity in his voice. I can’t find it, only concern. He cares how I’m doing. When was the last time anyone cared more about how I was doing than what I was achieving? Even I don’t care. However I’m doing, I keep grinding myself to the bone. I want to cry from fear, exhaustion, self-pity. But I can’t fall apart. Istiffen up, straining till my knotted muscles ache. “I’d rather push through. Let’s league.”

In the half dark, it’s harder than usual to parse his non-expression. “All right. How do you want to try it this time?”

I don’t want to mess around with cards or dice. I’m sick of them. I’m sick of games.

An invisible bird twitters in the trees. It gives me an idea. “What if we nav to a future where a bird comes out, lands in the middle of the clearing?”

Vik’s teeth flash in the dim. “Summoning bluebirds. Like we’re jointly Cinderella.”

“Not a bluebird. A cardinal, in honor of the country’s best baseball team. And why not jointly Cinderella?”

“No, I like it. Shall we?” He holds out his hand.

I lace my fingers through his. His thumb brushes over my tense knuckles.

“Let’s find you a cardinal,” he says. “Three, two, one—”

I give him everything I have: fear, resentment, rage, determination, grief. No careful parceling out of nav. No rhythmic breathing. No strategy. Like a trust fall but less controlled, like life has cut my legs from under me and Ineedhim to bear my whole weight.

I know he can do that for me. He’s done it before. And I believe, with my entire heart, that he’s willing to do it again.

He meets me gift for gift.