“I could’ve stayed in the infirmary.”
“And have Kale all over us for being so reckless? I’ll pass, thank you.” He took the glass and touched the side of her head, feeling the knot from Tristan’s grand finale of a punch. “Swelling’s going down.” He collapsed on his bed.
“I don’t like that you’re taking care of me. I’m still not happy with you.”
He ignored her. “See you in an hour.”
Chase fell asleep against her will, like the world had swung a black cape around itself and disappeared. When the buzzer sounded next, she watched Pippin shuffle to his desk to slap it off.
“Good. You’re up,” he said.
She was already gritting her teeth, ready to have it out once and for all. “You don’t even want to know why I’m mad.”
He sat at his desk. “I don’t. But what I would like to know is why all of a sudden you want to have a feelings powwow. That’s not our style, Chase.”
“You’re hanging out with other people. Romeo and Arrow. And you’re avoiding me—”
“I’m avoiding you because you keep pushing. I told you I want space.” He sighed. “Keep in mind, I tried to talk to you awhile back and you blew me off.”
“So now you’re blowing me off?”
“Now I’m acting the way we always are together, which seemed to make you plenty happy two weeks ago, I might add.”
Maybe Pippin was right. Hadn’t they always been this way? Sarcastic jokes. Sharp and short conversations. But then if that were the case, why had she duped herself into believing they were best friends? Because he was her roommate? Her RIO?
A wave of loneliness crested over her, and she punched her pillow. Her head throbbed. “So maybe now I want to know about you.” She switched tactics. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m not the one with mild head trauma.”
“I mean in general. You’re evasiveness is…” She hoped he’d fill in the rest.
“Am I okay?” He rubbed his face. “Okay is one of the more inexact words in the English language. I will agree to being okay.”
The silence that filled the room was tight. She couldn’t find a way through it.
“Is it still my turn?” he said. Anger and exhaustion seemed to rise together in his tone like twined snakes, and his face was red even through the dark. “All right, I’ve got a good question. Is Tristan the next one?”
“The next what?”
“The next guy you’re going to mess with before you pull up faster than a Streaker out of a canyon.” Before she could answer, he stumbled to his bed, and she lost sight of him. His voice drifted up. “Poor Riot. He’s still a mess, and you’re already on to someone new.”
“I’m not after Tristan. I want to beat him in the trials—to use him to show the government board what the Streakers can do. Tristan understands this.”
“You don’t ever call me Henry.”
“What?”
“You call him Tristan, but you always call me Pippin. Never my real name.”
“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” she wondered aloud. Why did she call Tristan by his first name? She even thought of him that way. “But I sparred with Tristan. He gave me a concussion. Does that sound like a crush to you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s just another Streaker pilot. Like Sylph.”
“Phoenix is not like Pegasus. They were trained to bring us down, Chase,” Pippin said. “Arrow has all kinds of know-how on evasive maneuvers we haven’t learned yet. When we get up there with him for the big show, he’s going to destroy us. Keep that in the forefront of your thoughts. Not the fact that he’s manly gorgeous.”
“Manly gorgeous?” Chase laughed. “Pip, this is no time to turn super gay.”
“Yes. It’s no time to be myself. How you’ve nailed it, Nyx.”
Silence.
She leaned over the bunk, the lump on her head growing heavier as she tried to look down on him. “Hey…”
“I don’t want to explain it to you, Chase. Don’t. Ask.”
“I don’t need an explanation. I know you’re…”
“Just stop!” He stood, and they almost knocked heads. Chase swung upright to face him. He looked like he was about to cry, but his eyes stayed dry. “Let me make this clear to you.” He pointed at his chest with both hands. “This is my life.” He pointed at her. “That’s yours. I vow not to go snooping around in your sordid love affairs, and in return, you leave my sexuality alone.”
The quiet that snuck around them was chilled. Chase shivered. “I…I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Pippin ducked back into his bunk. “Go to sleep,” he grumbled with the kind of finality she wasn’t going to push against.
Chase couldn’t move. This wasn’t exactly a surprise. Pippin had never appeared interested in guys, but he’d certainly been uninterested in girls. Chase had been hanging back on the subject until he was ready to talk. She’d even imagined it a few times. Pippin would sit her down and say, “So…I’m gay.” And then she’d say, “Of course you are,” and it would all be smoothed over. Accepted.
She’d never imagined it coming out in the middle of the night like a slap. Pippin was smart enough to fly circles around her; he’d never tell her something this important before he was ready, and yet that was exactly what had seemed to have happened. She had pushed him. Chase felt cruel all of a sudden, even guiltier than when she’d ignored his pleading during the race.
Tristan had been right to knock the pride out of her.
When the alarm sounded again, she hopped down from the bunk on shaky legs and turned it off. Pippin was snoring. The lump on the side of her skull stung when she touched it, but not as bad as the throb of remembering that she deserved it.
“Careless,” she whispered.