As They Slip Away

6.

I don’t go back to the Hospital until well after dark, and when I do, I leave Luthor in our studio. He’s still working like mad on the sculpture, even though, to me, it looks complete.

I wander down the path between the Recorder Hall and the Hospital. I’ve spent half my life in love with Bartie, who never really noticed me, and now here’s Luthor, who I’d never really seen before, and there’s this thing between us that I’ll never be able to ignore again.

Near the pond, a huge monstrosity grows up from the ground. Kayleigh’s work—a mobile metal sculpture that looks half organic, half nightmare. She’s used some sort of reddish-clear gel to create the appearance of fire at the base, and added groping metal arms reaching through the flames, up to the sky. But our sky is made of metal too, and if this sculpture is grasping for freedom, it will just meet another wall.

Harley’s fresco looks like nothing but a plaster sheet—I suspect he’s been busier looking at Kayleigh than doing any work. He usually paints every day, but he’s been rather distracted by the fact that Kayleigh’s no longer turning him away.

I’m in a silent, contemplative mood by the time I make it back to the Hospital.

“Hey, Selene!”

I jump, surprised by the sudden voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Bartie says, smiling up from the comfy couch in the common room. A trill of music follows his words; his guitar lies on his lap, his fingers unconsciously strumming the strings.

I cross the room and sit in the chair opposite him. A month ago, finding out that Bartie had been waiting up just to see me would have made my face flush and my knees shake. But now, I can still feel Luthor’s kiss on my lips.

“Why?” I ask simply.

“Victria . . .” His voice trails off.

This would be the point, a month ago, that would have made me want to cry. But the part of my heart that will always recognize that Bartie was my first love is silent.

“I’m sure she’ll come around,” I say. “Victria’s not a very, I don’t know, emotional person. But I bet she’ll fall for you eventually.”

Bartie laughs. “No, that’s not what I meant!” Still, he’s pleased with what I said.

“Then what?”

Bartie shifts uncomfortably, his hand going back to his guitar, running his fingers up and down the strings. “Victria said you . . . and Luthe . . .”

“It’s fine,” I say immediately. Better than fine.

“Luthe . . . he’s not . . .” Bartie shifts again, glancing out the dark window. “He’s said things . . . I just . . .”

“Victria should pay more attention to her love life and less to mine,” I snap.

“Listen,” Bartie says, leaning closer. “If Luthe has friends, then I’m one. And the way he talks about people . . . about girls . . .”

“Girls? More than one?” I ask, my heart plunging.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say.”

I can’t help but let a sigh of relief escape my lips.

“Just be careful, okay?” Bartie finally mumbles.

I nod, but I’m still not sure what he means.

Bartie’s hands drift back to his guitar. “Want to jam a bit?”

“Jam?” I laugh.

“I read about it. It’s what they used to call making music, back on Sol-Earth.”