Page 154 of On His Mind

“Is it a girl?” Stanley says.

And when I stare blankly, they’re all going at once. Voices coming at me from every side of the table, stacked on top of each other, every one of them worried, every one of them loud. The kitchen’s gone too bright. Every question they throw is a door I can’t get open, and my hands have started doing the thing on the table where they won’t stay still. The pressure on my chest is cinching down until there’s no room left to pull a breath, and there’s nowhere to put my eyes, nowhere in the whole loud room to land—

Except Blue.

Blue’s right beside me, and it hits me that it was only ever three voices. Not four. Blue hasn’t said a word this whole time.

The others are piling it on, all of them talking over each other about girls, about what’s wrong with me — and Blue is dead silent, and when I look at him he’s already looking at me. He was already looking. He doesn’t move his face.

He knows.

The noise is coming from every direction, and I can’t sort it into words anymore; it’s just volume. My hands have closed into fists on the table.

“Percy. Come on, man.” Benson’s gone quiet now. “Say something.”

“Yeah.” Rowan says. “We’re not gonna judge you. Just tell us what’s going on.”

And then Stanley says one word, and it’s the one word I’m not braced for, and it’s the one that takes the whole wall down.

“Brothers.”

My jaw locks. Something behind my sternum tears loose.

And it comes out of me in French.

“Aucun de vous pourrait comprendre ce que je ressens, parce que vous avez tous quelqu’un qui vous aime. Quand je suis arrivé dans cette maison, j’ai respecté les règles, moi, contrairement à vous autres, bande de caves. C’est la première fois de ma vie que j’ai un vrai chez-moi, pis je respecte chacun d’entre vous. Je mettrais jamais en péril ce que j’ai ici. Pour rien au monde.”

It’s the only way it’ll come. It’s always been the only way — my father’s language and nothing else off him, the one I think in when I’m too far down to translate, the one that surfaces when the English won’t. I couldn’t give Penelope words in English, and I can’t give the guys mine, and here I am doing the exact thing that lost her, in front of the four people I’m most terrified of losing next.

I look around the table at all of them.

“Mes frères.”

“Whoa — whoa, okay—”

“Percy.” Rowan’s got both hands up, palms out. “Hey. Hey. English, buddy. Come back to us. English.”

“Is he okay? Guys, is this — what is this—”

“Ça fait des années que je vous la cache parce que j’étais trop lâche pour vous dire la vérité, pis maintenant je l’ai perdue. Elle m’a quitté parce que j’ai pas été capable de le faire. Aucun de vous comprend le français, pis j’arrive quand même pas à le dire, câlisse.”

“Holy shit.” Stanley sits back in his chair, his face soft and stunned. “Keep it coming. Keep going, man.”

“Je l’ai perdue!” It rips out of me, too loud. “Je l’ai perdue et c’est ma faute, c’est entièrement ma faute, j’ai tout gâché, j’ai––” My eyes drop to the table. I can’t hold them up anymore. “Penelope m’a quitté pour de bon.”

The kitchen goes dead silent.

And my heart drops.

I have lived in this house for years, and I have never once, not for a single second, heard it this quiet with all five of us in a room. There’s always noise here. There’s always somebody talking. Or breathing. And now there’s nothing at all — four faces turned to me in shock.

Stanley’s mouth is actually hanging open.

“Penelope?” Benson says, carefully, like he’s trying to understand.

“PenelopeVentura?” Stanley’s voice comes out strange and small, nothing like his usual. “The — rich girl? Melly’s roommate? Gianna’s friend Penelope?”

Shit.