Within/Without

chapter thirty-one.

Val

To be honest, I have a really terrible habit of setting myself up in the most awkward situations.

It's a little past nine o'clock, way past normal operating hours for the Gazette's tiny floor of the Clubs Building. I would be home, maybe watching a Disney movie with Charlie while Jo heat up leftovers for the three of us, but thanks to the revelation that Silas Wade and Larry St. John—Simon's questionably-aligned cousin—are the same person, I'm here instead. Following a difficult explanation (okay, so it was a lie, just a whole lot of lies) to Rita and the others about why I can't cover the story of the missing professor, I was assigned a brief movie review instead. The deadline, of course, was still tomorrow.

None of this would be so bad—switching stories on a whim, working late—if it weren't for the other person still in the office, working late on his story, too. Caz, too, came here to do some last minute research for his editorial. The most he said when he came in and saw me stationed at my desk was a quiet, "Oh," before he took his stuff and vanished into the conference room.

Oh.

In another life, maybe, it would have been him. If I'd never learned the truth about Simon, maybe, it would have been him. I want so badly to tell him it's not his fault, but I'm not so sure he would listen.

Now, the only thing reminding me of Caz's presence is the yellow light bleeding from the conference room window, from underneath its door. I exhale, working out the final paragraph to my review, trying to refocus my wild mind.

My eyelids are beginning to droop when the cell phone in my pocket rings, loud enough to startle me. Calming myself, I glance at the caller ID, and hit answer. "Jo? You're still up?"

"I could ask you the same," says my sister from the other line, sounding mildly irritated. "Where are you? Why aren't you home? Are you with—"

"No, Jo, he's out with his older brother tonight. Brotherly bonding, he said, though he was grimacing."

"I see," Jo says. "Then—?"

"I'm at the office. I had to switch stories last minute so I've been working all afternoon," I explain, and I pray to God she'll stop asking there, because I don't want to have to replay the crappy story I made up for Rita. I'm not even sure I remember the entire thing. "I'm almost done. I'll be back real soon."

Jo pauses, and for a moment I think that'll be it, she'll say Fine, see you when you get home, and hang up the phone. But that, I realize, would be wishful thinking. "Any particular reason you couldn't stick with your original story?" Jo demands, and though she can't see it, I pinch the bridge of my nose, worried. "Did something happen?"

"It's a long story, Jo."

"I always love a long story."

"Well, I—" For a second, I start to tell her the same lie. The same lie I told Caz and Rita and anyone else who asked. The same lie I'd told myself, originally, when I hadn't believed Simon or anyone like him could exist.

My words falter. I've lied enough.

"Val?" Jo's voice is softer, like she knows, almost.

"When I get home," I say, "I think there's something I should tell you. It's about Simon."

"Simon? What does this have to do with Simon?"

Everything, and nothing. "You'll understand," I tell her, typing a final sentence into the word document in front of me, and starting to pack up. "You'll see soon enough. I'm headed home now, okay?"