“Act?” she whispers, her eyes large.
I push her glasses up her nose. “Yep.”
Calypso shivers, and her head shakes. “No. I don’t like this uncertainty.”
Lifting an arm, I pull her into a hug. “It’s not uncertain. I promise.”
I know exactly what will happen. How she’ll react—the genuine shock, the clear distaste, the honest annoyance—and it will all work out. But only if she doesn’t view it as a plotted role. Unlike me, she seems above the ability to use her gift for evil and deception. Unlike me, she laughs even after her pranks.
Her head tilts toward my chest, and I physically feel some tension in her muscles drift away. It’s a dreadful thing to notice. It almost makes me believe I’m a source of comfort for her. Someone important. Someone worth being her first choice when she needs somewhere to run.
“Do you want to make muffins while we wait?” she whispers after too short a time. “I don’t have muffin pans, but I have the little bread ones.”
“Secret spy bread muffins. How positively deceiving. Yes, let’s.”
~*~
I hear Calypso’s mom’s car before I’m finished with the dishes. Spy muffins have turned into dinner, and dinner has turned into a slew of pots and pans.
Calypso rolled her desk chair out of her room and up to the little table at the end of the kitchen, where she’s set three places like I’m just a guest over for dinner, but we both know betterthan that.
Freezing while wiping a pan, Calypso’s eyes lock with mine, and terror fills them. I lift two-fingers’ worth of suds out of the sink and blow them onto her nose.
“Hey!” she protests, and the front door opens.
Immediate silence and tension weighs into the space. A hard gaze lands on me, and it isn’t Calypso’s.
I turn, staring out the archway toward the foyer, meeting Mrs. Kole’s eyes. They flick, between me and her daughter, then narrow. Leaving her purse on the couch, Mrs. Kole comes to stand in the entry, blocking any means of escape. “I’m glad to see you’re okay,” she tells Calypso, her lips pursed. “You scared me, you know. I couldn’t reach you.”
A shaking breath sounds behind me. “I know. I’m sorry. I…I didn’t know what to do or say. I just had to get out for a bit.”
Honest. Honest Calypso who knows how to act. Who could so effortlessly lie her way anywhere but doesn’t. I’ve seen her defeated and scared like this before, in front of Agatha. Instead of pulling something bold and careless up to protect herself, she crumbles. What have these people done to her?
“I remember you.” Her mom looks dead at me. “Theclassmate.” The woman’s hard expression could slice diamond. “I believed that.”
It’s still true. At least, Calypso hasn’t told me otherwise. Until she confirms it, I won’t dare assume we’re even friends. No matter what waking up with her in my arms feels like.
“It’s true,” I offer. “We’re classmates.”
“Since you’re here, all things considered, I take it you’remorethan a classmate.”
I lift a shoulder, casual. “Well, perhaps a little. But assuredly not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Oh?” Her jaw clenches, and she’s looking at Calypso again. “I don’t see how it’s appropriate to bring an outsider into this,Calypso. What’s gotten into you lately? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
Maybe because this woman never has. Maybe because Calypso is finally embracing pieces of herself that she never let herself indulge in before. You can’t really know someone if they’re isolated. If their only relationship revolves around you, their only ambitions will center around pleasing you. That does nothing but show you what you want to see.
“I’m sorry. I forgot your name.” Vindictiveness laces the words.
“Lex,” I provide.
She nods. “Lex, if you wouldn’t mind. I think the conversation I need to have with my daughter is private.”
Nodding as well, I reach for the towel hanging over the stove handle and dry my hands. “Well, I would normally agree with you, Mrs. Kole. However, that conversation involves me. That’s why I’m here. To clear things up.” Looking at Calypso, I nod at the potholders on the counter beside her. “Could you pass me those, sugar. I think our casserole is done.”
Calypso gawks but obeys.
Pretending the tension doesn’t exist, I open the oven and let the heat furl out, filling the whole of the house with the scent of spinach bake. I cart it to the table, keenly aware only Calypso has followed me. She’s sticking near me, like she knows I’m going to protect her.
