Fallen 2. Torment(100)

that there was never a question in his mind that you were the only one that mattered."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"I don't claim to be in the business of making you feel better, I'm just trying to

illustrate a point. For all Daniel's annoying aloofness--and there's plenty of it--the guy's

clearly devoted. The real question here is: Are you? As far as Daniel knows, you could

drop him as soon as someone else comes along. Miles has come along. And he's

obviously a great guy. A little sappy for my taste, but--"

"I would never drop Daniel," Luce said aloud, desperately wanting to believe it.

She thought about the horror on his face the night they'd argued on the beach. She

was stunned when he'd been so quick to ask: Are we breaking up? Like he suspected that

was a possibility. Like she hadn't swallowed whole his entire insane story about their

endless love when he'd told her under the peach trees at Sword & Cross. She had

swallowed it, in one single believing gulp, ingesting all its fissures, too--the jagged pieces

that made no sense but begged her to believe them at the time. Now, every day, another

of them gnawed at her insides. She could feel the biggest one rising up in her throat:

"Most of the time, I don't even know why he likes me."

"Come on," Shelby groaned. "Do not be one of those girls. He's too good for me,

wah wah wah. I'll have to punt you over to Dawn and Jasmine's table. That's their

expertise, not mine."

"I don't mean it like that." Luce leaned in and dropped her voice. "I mean, ages

ago, when Daniel was, you know, up there, he chose me. Me, out of everyone else on

earth--"

"Well, there were probably a lot fewer options back then--Ouch!" Luce had

swatted her. "Just trying to lighten the mood!"

"He chose me, Shelby, over some big role in Heaven, over some elevated

position. That's pretty major, don't you think?" Shelby nodded. "There had to be more to

it than just him thinking I was cute."

"But ... you don't know what it was?"

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"I've asked, but he's never told me what happened. When I brought it up, it was

almost like Daniel couldn't remember. And that's crazy, because it means we're both just

going through the motions. Based on thousands of years of some fairy tale neither one of

us can even back up."

Shelby rubbed her jaw. "What else is Daniel keeping from you?"

"That's what I plan on finding out."

Around the terrace, time had marched on; most of the students were heading to

class. The scholarship waiters were hurrying to bus the plates. At a table closest to the

ocean, Steven was drinking coffee alone. His glasses were folded up and resting on the

table. His eyes found Luce's, and he held her gaze for a long time, so long that--even after

she stood up to go to class--his intense, watchful expression stuck with her. Which was

probably his point.

After the longest, most mind-numbing PBS special on cell division ever seen,

Luce walked out of her biology class, down the stairs of the main school building, and

outside, where she was surprised to see the parking lot completely packed. Parents, older

siblings, and more than a few chauffeurs formed one long line of vehicles the likes of

which Luce hadn't seen since the car-pool lane at her middle school in Georgia.

Around her, students hurried out of class and zigzagged toward the cars, wheeling

suitcases in their wake. Dawn and Jasmine hugged goodbye before Jasmine got into a

town car and Dawn's brothers made room for her in the back of an SUV. The two of them

were only splitting up for a few hours.

Luce ducked back into the building and slipped out the rarely used rear door to

trek across the grounds to her dorm. She definitely could not deal with goodbyes right

now.

Walking under the gray sky, Luce was still a guilty wreck, but her conversation

with Shelby had left her feeling a bit more in control. It was screwed up, she knew it, but

having kissed someone else made her feel like she finally had a say in her relationship

with Daniel. Maybe she'd get a reaction out of him, for a change. She could apologize.

He could apologize. They could make lemonade or whatever. Break through all this crap

and really start talking.

Just then, her phone buzzed. A text from Mr. Cole:

Everything's taken care of.

So Mr. Cole had passed on the news that Luce wasn't coming home. But he'd

conveniently left out of his text whether or not her parents were still speaking to her. She

hadn't heard from them in days.

It was a no-win situation: If they wrote to her, she felt guilty about not writing

them back. If they didn't write to her, she felt responsible for being the reason they

couldn't reach out. She still hadn't figured out what to do about Callie.