The Art of Us

Chapter Three

Ireland

After classes, Ireland frowned at her reflection in the school bathroom mirror. She tried to stay clean and tidy, but without the luxury of an actual shower and the fact that her makeshift home was a filthy public restroom at the edge of the woods, she couldn’t ever actually be clean. She wished she went to a school where a shower room was adjacent to the gym’s locker room, but the locker room just had lockers. She knew because she’d once stayed late and toured the school, even the boys’ locker rooms. Her school simply didn’t have showers.

What kind of school made gym class mandatory but then didn’t give kids the chance to wash up after? Didn’t they know that teenage boys perpetually gave off nose-stinging fumes even without ever working up a sweat? Of course, with the number of creepers in the world, she could see why high school showers could be a bad idea.

A loud clang and bang at the door made Ireland startle and pull back from the mirror.

“Sorry. Didn’t know anyone was here.” Janice, the custodian, looked surprised to see anyone standing in the bathroom at this time. She angled her supply cart so that it wasn’t blocking Ireland’s exit.

Janice’s cheeks flushed red with the exertion, making Ireland believe the cart had to be pretty heavy since Janice wasn’t a lightweight. The woman might have been older, but no one would have accused her of having mom arms. She stopped to rest for a moment and placed a trembling hand to where her graying hair had been pulled up into a sloppy bun.

“You need help?” Ireland asked, feeling a little concerned at how pale and yet red the custodian looked all at the same time.

“Oh no. I’m good. Just tired. Long week.” Janice panted between each of her short responses and offered a smile that looked as tired as she’d declared herself to be.

“You look like you don’t feel very good. Maybe call a sick day?” Ireland had never really spoken to Janice before. The custodian did a good job of being around all the time but also being invisible.

Like me , Ireland thought.

“No sick days left.” The custodian laughed as if that were funny somehow. She slumped against the wall like she was using it to hold herself up.

The woman was definitely not okay. “I don’t have anywhere to be. Tell me what to do, and I can help.”

“I’m fine. Just this bathroom left.” Janice glanced around to see what needed cleaning.

Ireland pulled a spray bottle from the cart along with a fresh rag. “Okay. So what you’re saying is I’m not committing to anything hard. Great. Point and direct.”

Janice’s eyebrows came together as an incredulous smile crossed her features. “Why?”

It was a valid question. Ireland wasn’t exactly certain why she wanted to help. She shrugged. Janice accepted that as answer enough and began giving directions. Granted, she didn’t go into detail about anything. Each instruction seemed to be only three words: Spray the mirrors. Wipe the sinks. Sweep the stalls. Mop the floors. Janice didn’t give in to long, drawn-out conversations. Ireland was glad about that.

Ireland found she was grateful for the work. It took her mind off her situation, and there was some sort of satisfaction in taking a messy space and making it new again.

“Should pay you,” Janice said.

“Actually ...” Ireland glanced at the spray bottle of all-purpose cleaner in her hand. “Would it be okay if I borrowed your cleaning supplies? Just until tomorrow morning. I swear I’ll bring it all back before school.” She added the last when Janice looked concerned about her supplies leaving her care.

“Why?” Janice asked.

“Honestly? I’m kinda on my own and don’t have a way to clean up my space. I could help you again to pay for what I use.” She didn’t know why she’d told Janice the truth. Even if it seemed unlikely that the less-than-talkative woman would tell anyone, Ireland had surprised herself by speaking up. But somehow she felt safe with Janice.

“Which ones?” Janice asked.

Ireland pointed to a few of the cleaning items, and Janice nodded. “You’ll have it all back tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.”

Ireland must have looked trustworthy because Janice agreed.

Ireland put the broom and mop together and then bundled the other items into a towel that she tied to the ends of the poles, which she put over her shoulder like she’d once seen in an old comic strip of a kid running away from home.

Janice chuckled at the effect. Maybe she’d seen the same comic strip.

They both thanked each other again and parted ways. Ireland pushed through the doors to the back parking lot, which was mostly empty since school had been out for a while.

But not nearly empty enough, Ireland decided, as she noticed the group of three girls gathered at a small gray FIAT 500x. The car belonged to Mara Washington. Ireland recognized the car because Mara’s was the only one with big eyelashes attached to the headlights. Mara’s dad owned the bakery-café chain On the Rise. And her mom helped him run things. They had four restaurants in California and one in Oregon. Her dad had been given the Black Business Award for his entrepreneurial efforts. He also got the Best of State Award and deserved both. His bakery chain made some great food. Ireland knew because she’d pulled some remnants out of their dumpster a few weeks back. Mara complained about the family business all the time, but Ireland didn’t understand why. Mara’s family was definitely on the wealthier side of things, and her dad had probably bought her the car as a gift for simply existing.

Everything about Mara was a sign flashing, “Look at me. Look at me. I’m wealthy.” Her designer clothing fit her as if someone had sewn each outfit specifically for her. Her long black hair was done in multiple perfect braids that could only have been achieved in a salon, and her warm brown face glowed like she’d just come from having a facial.

At that moment, Mara’s friends, or the hag and the harpy as Ireland thought of them, were looking at Mara as if she were declaring some eternal truth. Red-headed Tinsley with the creamy complexion of the over-moisturized, and Emily with a blond ponytail and eyes so blue Ireland felt sure they were contacts. Ireland had some pretty intensely blue eyes, and she considered them her best feature, but even her eyes weren’t as intense as Emily’s. The three girls lounged against the car in a way that made it seem they owned the whole parking lot. Ireland felt like she was intruding somehow as she heard Tinsley say, “So? Spill the tea.”

Mara squealed. “It’s true! Rowan wants to date only me. He said he’d make it official at the clambake tonight!”

“You know what this means, right?” Emily asked. She didn’t give time for Mara to answer. “It means he’s off the market forever ’cause no way is he going to ever break up with you after spending all this time with you.”

“Absolutely true, darling.” Mara struck a pose with her hand under her chin and batted her eyelashes in a way that made her look like her car for a moment.

Tinsley twisted her red hair up off her neck. She giggled along with the other two, but she actually looked like she’d eaten something that tasted like day-old broccoli left sitting on the counter. Rumor had it that Tinsley had been in love with Rowan since the second grade. It had to be killing her that she had to look happy about her friend having him.

“Do you think it’s weird he hasn’t asked me to the Heartbeat formal yet?”

“Oh, you know Rowan,” Tinsley said. “That guy is last minute on everything. Do you have a dress already?”

“But of course. What kind of amateur do you take me for? It’s perfect.” Mara fluttered her eyelashes, again looking like the human version of her car.

Ireland hated to admit it, but she thought the eyelashes on Mara’s car headlights were kind of adorable, and they made her feel like the car was smiling at her every time she passed it in the parking lot.

Unfortunately, none of the girls standing next to the cheery vehicle were smiling as they finally noticed her approaching. No one asked anything more about Mara’s dress for the Valentine’s dance. They were now all staring at Ireland. Mara’s expression was one of open curiosity as she took in the poles of the broom and mop over Ireland’s shoulder and the little bundle of cleaning supplies swinging behind her. Emily curled her lip as if she was now the one smelling the day-old broccoli—maybe that was just the natural expression of her face and Ireland had never noticed before. Tinsley’s look was one of pure annoyance, as if Ireland had purposely interrupted them and was actively eavesdropping —which she was, but it wasn’t as if she could help it. They were talking so loudly that Ireland wondered if they wanted to be overheard.

Ireland tried to smile in their direction as she walked by, but Tinsley made a noise that seemed like an outright rejection of Ireland’s smile. “No offense, but did you just get out of hobo class?” She turned to her friends. “I didn’t know they taught hobo class here.”

“They don’t,” Ireland said. No offense always meant that someone was about to insult you and they just expected you to suck it up.

“Oh, don’t be so extra,” Tinsley said with an eye roll. “We’re only joking.”

Ireland didn’t know how confirming that no such class was taught counted as her being extra. And everyone knew that if you had to say the words “I’m only joking,” then whatever you were saying wasn’t a joke. Seriously. These people.

Mara looked uncomfortable about her friends being the absolute worst and opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but she said nothing. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she didn’t call her friends out for being horrible. In Ireland’s mind, not speaking up in those situations was just as bad as being the verbal abusers.

“Hobo class sounds like it could be fun, though,” Emily said with a smirk.

Ireland narrowed her eyes at the girls. “Not as much fun as the hags and harpies class though, right? I heard you guys are both getting an A in that class. So you’re probably better off where you are.”

Emily and Tinsley exhaled puffs of indignation as Ireland shook her head and kept walking. Who were these girls to her? No one.

Knowing that didn’t stop a hot tear from escaping her eye. She didn’t reach up to swipe it away until after she’d rounded the corner and was out of their line of sight, however. She would not give them the satisfaction of knowing that their verbal arrows had struck their mark. She had to pass a few other people on her way to the old animal trail that led to the edge of the woods where she now lived. She tried not to feel self-conscious as those people eyed her pack. Maybe they’re not thinking I look weird, she thought. Maybe they’re thinking I look cool in a quirky kind of way.

Ireland snorted at herself. She was carrying cleaning supplies while wearing rumpled clothes and needing a shower. She didn’t look cool in any kind of way, quirky or otherwise. When she arrived at her restroom, Ireland checked the surrounding area to make sure she was alone. There was no one around except the birds and insects, chirping and chirring cheerily.

She opened the door and surveyed the small space of cobwebs and dirt. Ireland wrinkled her nose in disgust. “If this is home, then it’s time to make it livable.” Determination fueled her words as she spoke out loud to the bathroom. With that, she unbundled the cleaning supplies, stopped up the drain with the rubber plug Janice had loaned her, and filled the sink with water and soap. She started at the top of the bathroom where both dead and alive insects gathered at the window. “Sorry,” she said to the ones that were still moving. I guess it’s time for you to be evicted. But really, you’ll be fine and figure out new accommodations somewhere else.” After all, I did, she finished in her head.

Ireland swept the soap-soaked rag over the area, then shook it outside of the bathroom so the bugs didn’t clog her sink. Unclogging drains had been an activity she’d had to do in the past, but she wasn’t exactly good at it. It would have been so many degrees of glorious to play music on her phone from where it was plugged into the wall by the door, but she didn’t want to draw the attention of anyone who might come along. Anyway, the buzzing from the few flies she’d upset after wiping down where they’d been by the window added a soundtrack of sorts to her work.

Dunking the rag again and again in the soapy water, Ireland scrubbed each surface. With every swipe of the rag, she felt the accumulated dirt give way to her unflinching resolve. Like with cleaning the restroom in the school, it felt good to do the work and see the results of that work. Sweat soaked her neck behind her hair.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as Ireland methodically worked her way through the task. The repetitive motions of cleaning soothed away even the discomfort she’d felt when Mara’s gang had made fun of her.

Once she was done scrubbing the walls, she tightened her grip on the worn handle of the broom and swept everything out the door, then mopped the floor. Finally, she allowed herself to stretch out the kinks in her back and shoulders from being bent over for so long. Then Ireland stood back and gazed over the freshly clean space. It was brighter now that the light could shine in unhindered by the grime and dust that had been on the windows. She felt better about her situation, better than she had since before her dad left. Maybe better than she’d ever felt before.

The chirping bird alarm went off on her phone, reminding her it was time to get ready to meet Kal. It also reminded her that she was going to have to figure out how to pay the coming phone bill, or she would lose that bit of access to the world. Letting out an exasperated growl at that recollection, Ireland washed her hair in the sink and then braided the wet strands so that they were tidy. She wanted to look nice for this dinner. He hadn’t said it was a date, but ... well, she didn’t want to think too hard about why she worried over her image in the mirror.

She gathered all the cleaning supplies together and put them in the corner, then unplugged and pocketed her phone and opened the door. With a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, Ireland glanced over the bathroom once more. It wouldn’t be so bad to sleep here anymore. She wouldn’t have to think about the spiders and bugs. She wouldn’t have to try to not think about the yellowed stains on the wall near the toilet. Everything had been sanitized and scrubbed clean. She was almost excited to come back to go to sleep. My home, she thought and let out laugh of triumph. “Take that, Dad.” She could survive without him. Her chest tightened, but she refused to try to quantify the thought as a lie or not.

Ireland stepped out of the restroom and closed it up before turning to the path that led back into town, where she would meet up with Kal. She would get dinner tonight, free and clear, with no sneaking necessary. And she would get to listen to a cool guy sing and play the guitar—a thing she’d found she really enjoyed.

By the time Ireland showed up at Geppetto’s, she felt almost euphoric. She entered through the front door rather than the one at the side. She made eye contact with people rather than skulking around trying to hide her presence. She smiled at Kal, who grinned at her from the stage.

The smell of baking pizza came from the brick oven proudly displayed behind the glass partition separating the kitchen from the dining area. The warm stone tiles and red-checked tablecloths that made up the ambience of Geppetto’s added to her euphoria, but the bigger joy was knowing she wouldn’t have to steal her dinner. She might even be able to take home leftovers to get her through the weekend. She hated how it felt like she was always being bossed around by food. It seemed her every choice was determined by where and how she would be getting her next meal. Staying warm at night was a close second. She was glad the weather would eventually be warming up.

Not that food and shelter hadn’t always been central concerns, but before, she worked through them with her dad, whereas now, the worry belonged to her alone.

“Stop thinking about it,” she whispered to herself and then felt dumb for vocalizing her thoughts out loud. She spent so much time alone that she was starting to pick up some bad habits. People who talked to themselves weren’t exactly mentally stable, were they? She didn’t know.

She stood to the right side of the restaurant near the stone fountain surrounded by indoor plants while she waited for Kal to finish his song—whether it was an original or a cover, she couldn’t tell. She didn’t really know all that much about music. She had a few favorites and listened to them almost exclusively.

The stage was tucked into the far-left corner, likely so the people seated around the opposite corner away from the main dining area could still catch a glimpse of the local musicians if they wanted. Kal’s eyes kept turning to her, and his smile seemed to widen each time until she wasn’t sure how he could sing so clearly through such a wide grin. His voice felt strangely soothing all mingled together with the burbling fountain water and the hum of conversations punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.

The soft glow from the vintage-style pendant lights gave a cheery, warm sort of glow—the kind that felt welcoming and comfortable all at the same time.

That was how she felt. Welcomed and comfortable.

Yep. That decided it. She had never been so many degrees of gloriously happy as she was at that moment.

Kal sang the last few words of his song with confident, raw emotion. People clapped and cheered. “Thanks, everyone,” he said into the antique-looking mic. “We’re going to take a quick dinner break. We appreciate your support.”

He set his guitar on the stand and then came down the two wooden steps to the stone floor of the main room before making his way straight to Ireland. “Hey! You made it! Come meet the band.”

He took her to a table near the front where the other three members of his band were just getting seated. Two large pans of pizza were already on the metal stands at the center of the shiny wood table. The three people she recognized from school but had never talked to looked up at him.

“This is Asha. Our lead guitarist.” Kal pointed to a girl with rosy pink cheeks, flushed from being up on stage. Her entire vibe was like an advertisement for bright and cheerful feelings. Her long blue-green hair, bright blue eyes, and cute, slightly upturned nose made Ireland think of a mermaid.

“And this is Bailey. She’s our drummer.” The girl with short cropped brown hair was also flushed, but she didn’t give off the same kind of happy vibes as Asha. She was more like a neon sign flashing, “Go away.”

“And this is Cooper, on bass.” Cooper gave a wave-sort-of-salute and flashed a smile before he scrubbed his hands through his red hair. He looked like he’d had to fold himself up to sit on the chair. Ireland imagined that he was ridiculously tall. She tried to remember how tall he was compared to Kal, but when she’d come in, she hadn’t really noticed the others on the stage. She’d only seen Kal.

“And everyone, this is Ireland.”

“Like the country?” Bailey asked.

Ireland smiled. “Yeah. Like that, only with fewer shamrocks.” It was her standard answer when people reacted to her name.

Kal pulled out a chair for her and indicated for her to sit. She did so, her previous euphoria giving way to the awkward in this social situation that she wasn’t sure how to navigate. She’d only just barely decided to start talking to people. And now here she was talking to four all at the same time. And she was definitely the interloper of the evening. Recognizing these people from school didn’t mean she could call them friends. She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she could leave, but was compelled by the hunger gnawing at her insides to stay and eat first.

Except they weren’t eating. The food was on the pans with steam rising up, but no one was taking a slice. Would they think she was rude if she helped herself? Why weren’t they eating?

Bailey was on her phone. Asha had a pen and was writing on a napkin. Cooper was smiling at the waitress, who kept tossing little smiles back at him. And Kal was looking at her. Her stomach growled, and Kal smirked. He pulled a slice of pizza off the pan, finally . The cheese stretched from the slice to the pie still on the pan as he moved it to a plate and then pushed that plate in her direction.

“Here,” he said. He watched her momentarily, as if expecting her just to eat even though no one else was. He must have seen her hesitation because only then did he pull a piece off for himself.

When he took a bite, she did as well. Relief flooded her at the knowledge that she would go to sleep on a full stomach.

“Is no one else eating?” she finally asked quietly.

Kal looked at his bandmates. “They always wait a few minutes to cool off after performing.”

It made sense, even if she hated eating without them. But now that she’d taken a bite, she planned to keep going with or without them. “I liked the song you guys played.”

Asha glanced up, beaming. “Thanks. I wrote it.”

“ Just you? ” Bailey tilted her head and scowled.

With a blush, Asha hurried to clarify. “Well, we all had a hand in writing that one. But the first few lines were mine.”

“It was great.” Ireland took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before realizing the conversation had come to a full stop. Were they expecting her to do all the talking? Or did they expect that they would all eat—or not eat, as the case was—in silence? “Do you guys always write your own songs?”

“Not always,” Kal said. “Half the time, we do covers. People like music they’re familiar with.”

“Hey, guys?” Cooper glanced at the door with a look of longing. “We still have three songs to do before we can wrap. Can we get to it? I really do have to leave.”

“You don’t want to eat first?” Kal asked.

“They’re doing a clambake.” Cooper cast a furtive glance at Bailey, who was rolling her eyes.

Bailey pushed back her chair with a scrape over the stone floor. “Let’s get this done so pretty boy here can stop slumming with us and get back to his bougie friends.”

Cooper looked like he wanted to defend himself to her but said nothing. Kal dropped his pizza to his plate, downed half a glass of water, and wiped his mouth and hands on his napkin before dropping it to the table. “Let’s get you on the road, then.”

They all went back to the stage, took their places, and did three more songs. The first two were the happy, bouncy, good-vibes sort. The last was a soulful number about loss and missing people. As Kal sang, Ireland’s vision blurred with tears. I miss my dad. It was the first time she’d had that thought since he’d left her. She hadn’t been aware she could miss him. She was so mad at him, so ... betrayed , that to consider missing him felt like she was killing any self-respect she might have had.

Kal sang the lyrics:

The way we used to talk to the beat of the pouring rain,

I’m haunted by the echoes, memories I can’t explain.

I’m standing right here, holding out my hand.

Didn’t you know I was a safe place to land?

Ireland suddenly didn’t feel like she was abandoning her dignity to miss the man who had been a constant part of her life since she could remember. And really, she had to give him some credit. Her mom bailed on her when Ireland was a toddler. Her dad stuck it out for a lot longer. That meant something, didn’t it?

And she couldn’t help but miss him. He might have had issues with his addictions and might not have been trustworthy around her cash, but he was quick to see the humor in things and had an arsenal of dad jokes at the ready.

For the first time in weeks, Ireland let herself feel her feelings.

It was okay to miss him.

It was okay to hope he was okay.

It was okay to be mad at him.

It was okay to feel betrayed.

It was all okay.

And maybe it was all going to be okay.

She looked down at her pizza plate and tried to wipe at her eyes without being noticeable about it. Her first time out with people her age and she was getting all crybaby on them? How embarrassing. She didn’t want to look ridiculous in front of these guys—especially not Bailey, who was a little terrifying.

The band finished their set and Cooper grabbed his jacket and hurried off without returning to the table. Asha and Bailey came back with Kal, but they didn’t bother to sit down again.

“We’ve got to get going,” Bailey said. “Asha’s taking me home and apparently has relatives in town she wants to see.” She made a face as if seeing relatives was the worst thing she could imagine.

Asha kissed her fingers and tapped them to Kal’s cheek. “Be good, Superman. See you in school.”

Bailey gave a half-hearted wave and followed Asha out of the restaurant.

“Looks like it’s just us,” Kal said.

Maybe Ireland should have been nervous to be alone with a guy who was heart-stutteringly good-looking, but she was too mesmerized by the fact that the group had left nearly two full pizzas. She wondered what was going to happen to all that pizza. Would Kal take it with him? Would he let her take some of it? She swallowed and forced her attention back to him. He’d asked her a question. She had to consider a moment before she remembered what it was. Right—he’d asked her how she liked the songs.

“They were really great. Did Asha write those as well?”

“The first two were covers. I wrote the last one.”

Ireland felt like one of those animated characters with her eyes bulging out of her head and her jaw hitting the table. “You? Seriously?”

“Yeah. I was going through some stuff this last year, and writing it out helped me.” He watched her a moment longer before picking his pizza up off its plate. He looked at her and then her pizza as if indicating she should pick hers up too, which she did. “Cheers,” he said and tapped his pizza to hers. He took a bite while continuing to look at her.

She didn’t need any more encouragement than that. After finishing that piece she ate a second and a third. Kal didn’t make a big deal about the fact that she was packing away calories like a bear going into hibernation. She was glad about that since she felt a kinship with any creature who had to figure out how to make meals last.

“So you and Asha ...” She trailed off, not really sure how to finish her thought out loud without being more awkward than she already was.

He waited, but when it became apparent that she had decided not to continue, he said, “We’re just friends. She was the one who put up flyers for a lead vocalist in the band and she was the one who heard my audition. She’s got a gift with lyrics and the guitar but has trouble finding pitch with her voice. She was the first friend I made in Arcata.”

Ireland felt like an idiot for acting like some jealous shrew and hurried with a follow-up question to (she hoped) make him forget her first. “Why does she call you Superman?”

Kal smirked. “Well, it’s kinda my name. My dad wanted to name me Kal-El, but my mom said no.”

“Wait. I don’t get it. But your name is—”

“Kalvin Ellis, which was as close as my mom would let my dad get to naming me after an alien from Krypton. My dad actually calls me Kal-El. Honestly, sometimes my mom does too. When Asha found out, she just started calling me Superman. She thinks it’s funny.”

Ireland smiled. It was funny. And sweet, too.

Kal’s parents and life sounded so normal. Not like hers. As if reading her thoughts, he asked, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Why are you named Ireland?”

She shrugged. She had no idea. “My mom just liked it, I guess.”

“You never asked her?”

Her shoulders, which had been relaxed, suddenly tightened. “Never had the chance. She bailed even before I was walking. I haven’t seen her since. Wouldn’t even know how to find her.”

Kal’s brown eyes filled with compassion. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged again. “No big deal. I don’t remember her enough to miss her.”

“And your dad?”

His question sent a wave of panic through her. Did he have to be prying into her world like it was any of his business? But he looked at her like he really cared. Like he wasn’t intruding on her life—just trying to understand it. “Dad and I were on our own—just the two of us after Mom left.” It was the truth. Not the whole truth. But enough.

“So you can ask him why you’re named Ireland.”

“Right.” Ireland forced a smile. “I’ll ask him next time I see him.” All these questions ... no one told her there would be questions. She glanced at the Coca-Cola clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I should get going. Thanks for inviting me. I loved hearing you play. And thanks for dinner.”

She stood to go, but Kal stopped her by placing his hand gently over hers. Her heart stuttered to a brief but abrupt stop as she stared at his hand warm on hers, tethering her in the smallest way to him. She wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. It wasn’t exactly a bad sensation. No. Definitely not bad. But it made her feel like her skin was suddenly too tight and that the room had become too warm.

“Why don’t you take the pizza home for you and your dad?” he said.

“You don’t want any?” She hated how her heart not only started beating again but that it was now jackhammering against her ribs with the hope of taking back such a haul.

“I eat a lot of pizza. I’m kinda over it.”

She glanced at the practically untouched pizzas and hoped the need wasn’t visible in her eyes. “If you’re sure ...”

“Yep. Lemme get you some to-go boxes.” He left and returned a few minutes later with two boxes and a plastic bag with something heavy-ish in it. “The guys in back said these two take-out salads were paid for but never picked up. He asked if I’d take them, but I’m not really a salad guy. Do you want them?”

“Sure.” She tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but vegetation? Something healthy? The good luck was dizzying.

They boxed up the pizza, and then Kal loaded her arms with the food while he asked, “Did you drive here?”

“No, I walked.”

“Oh, well, lemme drive you home then.”

“No!”

His eyes widened in surprise at her abrupt response.

“I mean that I like walking. And it isn’t far.”

“But ...” He glanced meaningfully at the boxes and the bag.

She laughed. “It’s not like it’s heavy or even awkward.”

He opened his mouth, likely to protest, except at that moment a guy who looked like the manager called his name and waved him over. Kal made a noise that sounded like a low growl of frustration but said, “I’ll be right back.”

Once his back was turned, Ireland inched toward the door. When she reached it, she tugged on the handle and fled the restaurant.

“I’m stupid to have run away,” she said out loud when she made it to the edge of the woods. But what else could she do? It wasn’t like she could let him drive her to a public bathroom in the woods. And Kal Ellis didn’t seem like the type of guy to let her walk. Fleeing had been her only legitimate option.

As she moved down the trail, she considered the amount of food she had and wondered how to keep it from attracting animals, specifically the bears. She’d never returned with enough to last beyond the next meal. This was an entire weekend’s worth. How did she keep it from going bad even if the animals stayed out of it?

She wished she could afford a small cooler, but even if she had the money, she had nowhere to store it. She’d have to eat what she could and throw the rest out. She should have considered this dilemma before she loaded up the boxes. Kal was likely just being nice when he’d said he was over pizza.

“Who is ever over pizza?” she asked out loud. He would have taken it if she hadn’t. She was a greedy, grubby-handed taker .

She sighed at that. She had never wanted to be a taker. She had never wanted to be like her dad.

She made it to the bathroom, set the food on the sink, and went to retrieve her duffel. Once she had the duffel in the bathroom, she locked the door. When she turned to set up her bed, she jolted at what she saw out of the corner of her eye. It was splotches of red writing on the far wall. Blood?

Alarmed, Ireland froze. Had someone come and scrawled some warning in blood on her wall?

“You should leave,” she told herself. It would have been the smart thing to do. But she didn’t. Instead, she stepped closer to the wall to inspect the writing.

“This is how every episode of Supernatural starts,” she muttered to herself. But she stepped even closer. No. Not blood. It was hot pink.

That gave her the courage to step closer and read the message.

My every heartbeat is now a wracking sob, wrapped in a cloak of betrayal. I’m a hideous beast now—scarred, repulsive, and howling at the uncaring moon.

“Definitely the start to a Supernatural episode.” She’d watched the entire series one summer when her dad had gotten them into an apartment with paid streaming for several different services.

“What the stupid kind of message is this?” Ireland asked. Now that she was close enough to really see what she was looking at, and now that she wasn’t panicking and jumping to paranoid conclusions, she could tell the message was written in a playful pink lipstick. So likely a woman wrote it, which meant some woman had been there in her bathroom while she was gone. It wasn’t as abandoned as she’d allowed herself to believe. This meant she had to stay extra careful.

Not that she wasn’t careful, but just that morning, she’d considered not putting her stuff into the duffel and hoisting it into the trees. It was just so much work. Now she was glad she hadn’t given in to that impulse.

She glanced around at the rest of her clean bathroom and then back to the wall with the writing. She scowled. “Seriously?” she asked. “What kind of meth-head harpy writes on a wall in lipstick?”

With a grunt of frustration, she pulled out the cleaning supplies and went to work to scrub away the mess. “Lipstick is the worst!” she whisper-yelled. It was all grease and smear and smudge and mess. “And who does this?” she asked. “Who runs around vandalizing other people’s bathrooms like this? Don’t they know? Don’t they know how hard it is to clean? Does it not occur to them that someone has to clean it up? Entitled pieces of shrewish dumpster trash.” The grumbling didn’t make the cleaning any easier, but it made her feel better about it.

When she was done, she felt tired and furious, and she cursed the anonymous vandal all over again. Then she prepared her bed, wishing she’d taken the time to get a pillow, and turned out the light.

But once the light was out, it felt like the words were seared in her mind. Scarred, hideous, beast, betrayal . Her fear rose on the tide of those words washing into her head. She wished they didn’t leave her feeling vulnerable and paralyzed.

They were like some ominous omen, and, just as she had finally admitted to herself that she missed her father, she also finally admitted that she was terrified to be so completely alone as the uncaring moon shone in through her window.