I force myself not to think about them. Thio isn’t going to get sucked up in his family’s bullshit.
I scan the hall again, searching the faces of new arrivals.
He didn’t respond to any of my texts this morning.
I bounce on my heels. My anxiety grows, swells up and out, pushing on my ribs, and—
He’ll be here,Orok said.
No.
I don’t think he will be.
I don’t know where the thought comes from. It seizes me like an errant muscle cramp; one of my knees buckles, and I glower at everyone around me in business attire chatting amicably.
Orok catches my change of expression. Before he can ask anything, Dr. Davyeras comes rushing up the hall at a tight clip between a jog and a walk.
He spots me, and his shoulders sag in relief, which immediately sets me on alert.
In the time it takes him to reach me, I check my phone again.
Nothing from Thio.
Something’s wrong.
“Mr. Walsh,” Davyeras says. He smiles tightly, trying to look professional despite the flicker of panic in his eyes. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on the situation?”
“Situation?” But Davyeras is ushering me to the side of the hall, throwing pleasant smiles as people pass us to enter the banquet room.
“With Mr. Tourael.” Davyeras lowers his voice. “Dr. Narbeth and the grant committee received unsettling letters from him this morning, and he isn’t responding to our attempts to reach out. Given your close proximity to him, we were hoping you had insight into—”
“What letters?” My heart’s in my throat. Orok followed us to the side of the hall and his bulk helps create an illusion of privacy, but he touches my arm, reminds me not to shout.
Davyeras eyes Orok, then me in confusion. “Mr. Tourael has resigned from the program. He informed us this morning of his intent to withdraw from the grant as well as his degree.”
Orok’s hand is around my wrist, holding me in place. I’d run otherwise. Sprint right out of here and go find Thio.
“What?” I ask; nothing congeals. “What are you talking about? He isn’t dropping out.”
Davyeras seems just as confused. “Forgive me, Mr. Walsh, but we assumed you knew.”
“I didn’t know, because hedidn’t drop out.”
Davyeras pulls his phone out of his suit jacket. After a moment of tapping, he shows me his screen.
It’s our paper. Thio’s and mine. I scan the title, look at Davyeras questioningly.
“The paper was submitted last night,” Davyeras tells me. “You are the only author listed.”
My eyes go back to his phone. Under the title, it saysSebastian Walsh.
And that’s it.
Yesterday, Thio and I were going to submit our paper together.
We didn’t. Because we were yelling at each other.
Thio submitted the paper on his own last night. After taking his name off it. After I said he was like his family. After he used Camp Merethyl against me.
