After she’d fled the cemetery—and Daniel—she’d practically sprinted up to her room. She hadn’t even bothered to turn on a light, so she’d tripped over her desk chair and stubbed her toe hard. She’d curled into a ball and gripped her throbbing foot. At least the pain was something real that she could cope with, something sane and of this world. She was so glad to finally be alone. There was a knock on her door. She could not catch a break. Luce ignored the knock. She didn’t want to see anyone, and whoever it was would get the hint. Another knock. Heavy breathing and a phlegmy, allergy-ridden throat-clearing sound. Penn. She couldn’t see Penn right now. She’d either sound crazy if she tried to explain all that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours, or she’d go crazy trying to put on a normal face and keep it to herself. Finally, Luce heard Penn’s footsteps treading away down the hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief, which turned into a long, lonely whimper.
