“Oh, and Lottie”—Lola paused on her way out, peeping back past the doorframe—“your hair looks great!”
Lottie nodded weakly at her as the door closed, before she turned back to her princess and Partizan. “Listen, guys . . .”
She wanted to explain to them about the terrible things Ingrid had said about disposing of the king and queen, what she thought they might be planning to use the Hamelin Formula for, and her manic rambling about Alexis, but before Lottie could get another word out a set of arms wrapped around her. It wasn’t the usual warm and safe feeling she got from Ellie, but a desperate choking squeeze filled with fear and pain. Ellie was crying.
“Ellie,” she whispered, “this changes nothing. It’s all okay.”
“No, Lottie, it’s not okay.” A sob escaped her, and Lottie could see Jamie in the corner staring out the window. “All this”—Ellie’s voice was a mess of tears, and all Lottie could do was hug her back, gently stroking her hair—“everything that’s ever happened to you and Jamie, and everyone else, it’s all because of my stupid family. It’s all my fault and now we have proof.”
Lottie’s hand froze, her eyes locking on to Jamie’s, because they both knew this would happen, but neither of them knew what to do next.
“I’m going to let you two talk this out,” said Jamie. “I’ll make the call to Ellie’s parents; I imagine they’ll want us to come back as soon as possible.” He headed to the door, glancing briefly over his shoulder, and the look on his face was so confusing, not at all what Lottie was expecting, that it made her catch her breath.
He looked furious. It felt as if it was on her behalf, that he was angry for her, and she couldn’t understand it. Before she had time to process it, he was gone, leaving the two of them alone, Ellie’s weeping the only sound.
Ellie had never cried like this, not ever, and Lottie couldn’t tell if this was a good thing, a step in the right direction, or a very bad sign. All she knew for certain was that it was a change, and that there would be a lot more changes from here on.
And right now she had to tell her what she felt; she had to tell Ellie her own truth.
“Ellie,” she began, the name like a lullaby on her lips, “I’m going to tell you how I feel, and I’m going to trust that you’re really listening, and that you’ll believe me.” She waited a moment, Ellie still clinging to her, face hidden. “This is no one’s fault. No one blames you, and even knowing all this every single one of us would still be your friend; we’d always choose you. I promise.”
She felt Ellie shuffle, the breath on her neck becoming deeper, less frenzied, and she continued. “We’re a pack, Ellie,” Lottie said soothingly, stroking her princess’s hair. “You’re not Claude, and you’re not your family; you’re Ellie, and we’re our own pack.”
With a loud sniff Ellie’s face finally reappeared with massive panda eyes and streaks of black down her face in the shape of teardrops.
Their bodies were so close Lottie could feel her heartbeat, but she didn’t think about the kiss, or Leviathan, or Claude, only Ellie, the person in the world she felt most herself with. The person she wanted to hold on to forever.
“Lottie,” Ellie said at last, her voice strained, breathing ragged. “I don’t want to lie to you. I can’t tell you I’m okay with this.”
Lottie absorbed the words, feeling them settle inside her like a bruise that might never heal, and in the deep ebony wells of Ellie’s eyes Lottie could see her drifting further and further away, and she’d drown unless she did something now.
“Cut my hair,” Lottie announced, surprising herself. “It needs fixing, and then I can cut yours. It’ll be like when we first became friends, remember? When I did your hair?”
Ellie mumbled something, looking away.
“I’m serious. There’s no point in thinking about this now; we deserve to enjoy our time back at Rosewood.” She could tell from the way Ellie recoiled that she didn’t believe she deserved anything right then, but she persisted. “Please, Ellie.”
Perhaps there was just the right amount of desperation in her voice, because, although reluctant, Ellie agreed, but the shadow remained over her princess, a dark cloud that Lottie had put there, and part of her began to wonder if, despite her belief in the truth, she’d made a terrible mistake.
39
ELLIE STEPPED BACK, CONTEMPLATING HER work with a tilt of her head, black hair flopping to the side in wet inky clumps.
Their dorm room was fully aglow, come back to life after its hibernation over the summer, filled to the brim with books and clothes, socks on the dark-wood floor, which was making its familiar creaks, while the sound of students drifted into their motley hideaway on a breeze that smelled of flowers. Yet it felt like they were seeing it through an old TV. A fake happy, a “play pretend” that they were all following along with for each other’s sake.
“Done.” With one last snip Ellie chewed her lip, looking down at Lottie, absently fiddling with a strand by her chin, her mind already drifting off again.
The voice in Lottie’s head hissed again, wondering if the truth had been too much, if she’d done this all wrong.
They had dealt with the worst of Ellie’s panda eyes, though a faint black shadow still lingered, stuck to her like a tattoo under the skin. She was pretending it hadn’t happened, but the evidence was there, the effect this news had had on her, on all of them. But she was trying to pretend she was okay, and somehow that made Lottie feel even worse.
“You ready to see?” Ellie asked.
Lottie nodded
