Page 68 of Deacon

That part still felt strange.

Most adults changed once they knew something was wrong. They asked questions until every answer felt scraped raw, or their faces softened into that careful expression people wore when pity started masquerading as concern. Blue had walked in, handed Jade sour candy, and immediately insulted Evan’s movie choices. Her mother had stayed close without hovering, sitting near enough that Jade could feel her presence without having to endure constant checking.

Somehow, that made everything easier.

Evan sat forward again as the movie gave him fresh material. “No. Absolutely not. You do not get to be at Harvard collecting mysterious brunette besties and then look wounded when your girlfriend has questions. I saw that earring. Elle saw that earring. We all saw that earring.”

Blue snorted into her drink, and Lila made a tired sound beside Jade. “You are so dramatic.”

“I am correct,” Evan said, one hand returning to his chest. “That girl is always in his orbit, he’s acting cagey, and now we’re supposed to believe this is wholesome academic bonding? Please. If my boyfriend had one secret Harvard girl with perfect hair and misplaced jewelry in his room, I’d need a full slideshow and references.”

Jade’s laugh came easier this time, and the warmth that followed settled somewhere deeper than amusement. Everyone here knew now. They knew about Chloe, the lies Jade had told about where she spent her time, and how long she had been moving through school mostly alone. They had watched her cry until she could barely talk, yet the apartment still smelled like popcorn and fries, Evan still argued with fictional people, and her mother still sat beside her.

Nothing had collapsed because Jade told the truth.

The realization loosened something she had been carrying for so long she barely remembered what it felt like without it.

She reached for popcorn and let the movie wash over her. Blue stole one of Evan’s fries and ignored his outraged noise, while Lila sank deeper into the couch cushion with her legs tucked beneath her. Nobody asked Jade another question. Nobody made her revisit the party or Chloe or the things kids at school had said.

For once, she could simply sit inside a room where people knew and still treated her like herself.

Exhaustion eventually took over. Jade remembered Evan beginning another rant about fictional relationship crimes and Lila telling him to shut up long enough to let the actors speak. After that, voices blurred into warmth and faded.

When she woke, the living room had darkened.

A different movie played quietly on the television, and someone had tucked the blanket more securely around her legs. Her neck ached from sleeping at an angle, and her sketchbook had been moved from beside her hip to the coffee table, carefully set on top of a stack of magazines.

Jade stared at it for a moment.

Someone had noticed it before it could slide onto the floor.

The smallness of the gesture made her throat tighten in a way she found deeply irritating, so she reached for her phone instead. Voices drifted from the kitchen behind her, low enough that she could make out Evan, her mother, and Blue without catching the words.

The screen lit beneath her thumb.

Three new messages waited from an unknown number.

Her stomach dropped.

She opened the first.

Unknown: you cry to mommy yet?

The second followed immediately beneath it.

Unknown: bet she finally believes what a slut she raised

Jade’s mouth went dry as she opened the last one.

Unknown: you think this goes away because you block numbers? i can make a hundred more. whole school is gonna know what you are. just like her. maybe i’ll show you what a good little slut you are.

Her hand tightened around the phone until the edge bit into her palm.

The warmth she had woken inside vanished beneath a rush of cold. Her heart began beating too fast, and the kitchen suddenly felt much farther away than a few yards down the hall.

This was how it always happened.

Whoever sent the messages would disappear long enough for Jade to believe they had finally gotten bored. Sometimes she got a whole day. Then another number showed up, another email appeared, and the same words found her again.