chapter thirty.

Simon

Noah sobered up quickly; I guess getting socked in the face a couple times will do that to you. We're sitting at our dining table back at the apartment; after being attacked, none of us were really in the mood for any more partying, so we came straight here.

"Hold still," I tell Noah, turning the bottle of antiseptic over, dousing a cotton ball. "I can't patch you up if you keep squirming."

Noah rolls his eyes—or his eye, I suppose, because the other one's practically swollen shut. He lets out a hiss through his teeth as the cotton ball meets his skin. "Jesus. That stings!"

I smile at him. "That's how we know it's working."

"Well, what about you?" snaps Noah, combing a strand of blond hair back from his face. I screw the bottle of antiseptic shut, though the scent of alcohol still hangs in the air.

"What about me?"

"You didn't get hurt?"

I swallow, remembering the crunch of my nose underneath the guy's fist. "I think he broke my nose," I say, reaching for a butterfly bandage, "but I healed it."

Noah is silent for a moment. When I look up at him, his eyes are round, mouth half-open. "I wasn't aware you could do that."

I exhale. Monster. Monster. "Neither was I."

"But if you think about it, it makes sense, doesn't it? You change the bones in your face all the time," Noah says as I press the bandage to his skin, sealing a cut closed. He watches my fingers as I pack up the first aid kit and click it shut. "So why couldn't you just rearrange your nose?"

I shrug, silent.

There's a quiet shuffling noise as Noah slides the first aid kit down the lacquered wood table. Underneath the gold light fixtures, his bruises are a shimmery, deep purple-blue. There's rage somewhere within me. Bubbling, warm, about to burst. My brother's spent his whole life protecting me, and now he gets his face beaten in for it. Monster. Monster.

"Ginger Snap?" Noah says. He taps the table once with his finger; I force my eyes to his. "Are you okay over there?"

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to fall down my knees and say I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. More than anything, I want to disappear forever.

"Hey," Noah says, and the second his arms come around me, all of it comes tumbling out.

"He called me a monster, Noah," I say. My cheeks are wet, though I don't remember feeling the tears fall. I swipe them away angrily. Monster? Sure? But what monster was ever this pathetic? "I was just trying to get them away. I was just trying to fight them off, trying to make sure both of us lived. And he called me a monster, and I realized, God, he's right. I am a monster, aren't I?"

Noah jolts; I hear his heartbeat jump underneath my ear. "Simon, no."

"But it explains everything. Why Mom and Dad always looked at me like they were scared of me. Why Abbie always used to cry whenever I held her. Why all the doctors said they couldn't help me. People don't do this, Noah. People don't change their faces and bodies on a whim. It's not possible," I say. My throat's dry, too dry; I swallow, trying to choke out the words. Everything in me feels scraped bare. It's a terrible, terrible feeling. "Larry's right. People like us—we just aren't made for this world we're stuck in."

For a moment, the dining room is utterly quiet, wordless. Sirens wail distantly outside; somewhere else is the low, low warble of a nightly television show. But Noah says nothing. But I say nothing.

"Simon Abraham St. John, you massive idiot," Noah says, letting me go, holding me at arm's length while he peers into my bloodshot eyes, my ruddy face. I feel like a little kid again, crying on the playground after I fell off the two feet tall monkey bars. "You utter nitwit. Larry's not right about anything. Everything about him's wrong from his homeless-ass haircut to every single word that comes out of his mouth. You are not a monster, Simon. You are a poet. You are a student. You are the only other person I know who's as passionate about sushi as I am. You're the one guy who always cries when he watches The Lion King. You're my brother. You're human. You are many things, Simon, but a monster is certainly not one of them."

I shake my head, brushing hair from my face. And somehow, the lightest of chuckles escapes from my chest. "Noah, you care too much, you know that?"

He blows a raspberry at me. "No such thing."

"If you tell anyone I cried, though," I say, pointing at him, "I'll make that other eye black and blue, too. Just to even the scores."

Noah scoffs. "You couldn't if you tried."

My eyebrows raise. "Oh yeah? Tell that to the two guys that ran away from me like a bunch of schoolkids—"

The apartment door bangs open, nearly busting a hole in the wall. Standing in its threshold is my cousin, Larry, his shoes and jeans dirty with dust and grime, his hair hanging in greasy strings about his face. Noah's right. His haircut really does make him look like a homeless person.

Giving Larry an appraising glance, I say to Noah, "You actually called him?"

"Yeah I did," Noah says, getting to his feet. "He's got a shit ton of explaining to do, after all."

Larry grits his teeth, starting in our direction. "Look, guys, I—"

"Nuh-uh-uh," scolds Noah. "Shut the door behind you first. That's no way to enter someone's house."

Larry rolls his eyes towards the sky, as if begging for divine intervention. Nevertheless, he backs up, nudging the door shut. "Noah. Simon," he begins, his voice low, cautious. "I'm sorry. I never knew it would happen this quick. I thought they'd give me time—"

"Who's they?" I demand, swiveling around in my chair to face him. "Who's they and why did they just try to kill us?"

"They gave me a black eye," Noah announces, as if one couldn't tell that by looking at him. "It's a nefarious act. Mom always tells me my eyes are the prettiest."

"She tells you that so you won't feel bad about being the dumbest," I say, and Noah whirls, hurt, but he's cut off by Larry before he can protest.

"They're spies, okay? From Ukraine. One of my missions was to eliminate them. Blow their covers and...and eradicate those close to them. I was supposed to send a message."

Noah swallows, the air between the three of us thickening. "And?"

"It was a message well sent," Larry says, and both Noah and I inhale in horror. No wonder they were so pissed; I would be, too, if anyone touched even a hair on my family's or friends' heads. "I should've killed them when I had the chance, but I didn't. I thought maybe they could reclaim their old lives, their old morals. Evidently, they did not."

"You kill their families and spare their lives, then expect them to be fucking grateful?" Noah says. He turns, looking sharply at me. "Are you sure I'm the dumb one?"

"Noah!" roars Larry, his voice loud enough to draw our attention right back to him. His hands are fists at his sides, his face turning a pinkish-red. "Now's not the time, okay? I know what I did. I ran away because I was hoping to get away from it, once and for all. But they'll follow me, and more like them. Until I work it out, none of you are safe here."

Both Noah and I pause for a moment.

"Wait," I say, getting to my feet, coming to stand beside my brother. "What are you saying?"

"You," Larry says, pointing at me. There's something in his eyes, a hectic sort of fear, almost, that I've never seen before. Chills go down my spine as he looks at me. "Take Val and get the hell out of town. Tell her it's a surprise vacation, or something. Just don't come back until I say it's safe to."

I can't imagine just packing up and leaving. My whole life's here in Boston. I can't just leave it behind, all of a sudden. I start, "But—"

"And you," Larry says, turning to face Noah. "Go back home to your parents and your little sister. Keep watch over them—"

"They can defend themselves," Noah says, drawing both Larry and I to a halt. My eyes dart in his direction, but if he senses my surprise, he doesn't seem to care. "They're far away from here, and if the need arose, I'm positive any threat would be dealt with swiftly. So let me stay here. Let me help you, Larry."

Larry blinks.

Then, he laughs.

His mouth opens in a loud cackle, so intense he barely keep from doubling over. "Last time I checked, you hate me like all the rest," Larry says once he's calmed himself. "And now you want to help me?"

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Simon and Val and the rest of our family. By helping you, I'm protecting them," Noah says, reaching one hand to ruffle my hair. He spares me a smile, though it's slight. "So Simon should take Val and go, yeah. But I'm staying."

I stare at him. "Noah..."

"It's okay, Ginger Snap," he assures. "Just go. And when you get back, it'll be like nothing ever happened."

They're not serious. Neither of them can be serious. I can't just...leave. Val and I have school and work and all sorts of obligations here. It doesn't make sense to just...just run away.

"No," I say. "I'm not going—"

"Yes, you are," Noah and Larry say in unison.

For a second I just look at them. I can't remember the last time they ever agreed on anything.

"Simon, you love Val, don't you? You'd never forgive yourself if something happened to her," Noah says. He gestures around the corner, towards my bedroom. "So pack your bags and go. Everything will still be here when you get back. I will still be here when you get back. Okay?"

I shouldn't agree. God knows I should not agree. Leaving my brother behind? My family behind? What am I thinking?

And yet I see the resolve in Noah's face. I see it, and somehow, I believe him.

"Okay," I agree. "I'll go."