Page 61 of Selling Innocence

Kenz said her goodnights to the rest of us before, pausing for one long moment before talking to Vance. Clearly that discomfort would take a while longer to settle. She headed down the hallway, toward her room.

I pulled my gaze from where she’d gone to find the others staring that same direction.

A pull existed between each of us and her. If I were trying to destroy our group, she was the perfect weapon. She could have taken us all down without problem, sowing distrust and chaos in an otherwise peaceful setting.

However, what I’d learned long ago was that change wasn’t always bad. Change signaled opportunity. It heralded a need to alter things, to adjust, and sometimes that adjustment led to successes that had been otherwise impossible.

So would Kenz lead to our salvation or our destruction?

And did I even care?

Chapter Thirteen

Kenz

I yawned as I reviewed the requirements for the end-of-year exhibit. I had a while to get in my pieces, but I didn’t have nearly enough done.

I could pull from my old work, but that wasn’t the point. This exhibit would determine my placement next year, and it mattered. I wanted to show my abilities, to prove how much I’d grown, to earn my place.

Yet I hadn’t managed a single thing good enough for what I needed to do.

“You frown too much.” Char had his legs out as we sat at the large park, beneath a tree.

It had surprised me that he’d brought me here, but I’d learned to never question kindness, at least not in the moment. If I complained or asked him why he’d done it, he’d probably take away the little outing, and I really needed it.

The breeze was lovely, even if the heat made me sweat.

“I was surprised Hayden said it was okay to come.”

Char pointed at the large building just across the street. “That’s the courthouse. Police are constantly coming and going here, so only an idiot would try to attack. Besides, I’m keeping an eye out.” He paused, his lips tipping down. “Unless you don’t feel safe having me as your bodyguard.”

“I never said that.”

“You looked pretty chummy with Hayden last night. Thought maybe you’d decided you only liked him watching out for you.”

His tone was strange. He was always unpleasant around me, but the more I interacted with him, the more I could tell what sort of unpleasantness he felt at any given time.

There was normal unhappy for him, which was his baseline. Then there was annoyed—often when he had to interact with people he didn’t want to. He had his hangry mood, when he missed a meal and started to snap at others for making noise. That was surprisingly similar to his mood when he had to wake up early as well.

This one felt slightly different. If I didn’t know better, I’d have labeled it as jealousy.

I shook my head, telling myself that was crazy. Char barely tolerated me because he needed me right now. He’d done nothing to imply he felt anything positive about me that might lead to jealousy.

It meant I must not fully understand his moods yet.

“I’m fine with you,” I told him honestly. “I just was making conversation.” I allowed my voice to trail off after that, then flipped through the journal I had, staying quiet so as not to bother him anymore.

The paper inside was worn and yellowed, with scraps shoved in, pictures glued to different pages. I’d had this thing for years, like a collection of everything that mattered.

“You’re being too quiet,” Char muttered, his voice quiet as though he hadn’t wanted to say it but couldn’t help himself. “What’s that thing?”

Instead of calling him on his bipolar attitude, I opened the journal wide and angled it toward him. “This is my idea book.”

“What’s an idea book?”

“I’ve been working on it for years now. It has lots of things—some small sketches, ideas for future work. I have quotes that matter to me, and images of artwork I love, or pictures of things that inspire me. I use it when I feel stuck on my art, when I don’t know where to go. It reminds me that I’ve got this, that there are beautiful and horrible things in the world that I want to create.”

He took the journal from me, but he didn’t yank it like I expected. Instead, he held it with care.