Page 9 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

I’m surprised to find her tucked into bed when I enter our dormitory. Before I can say anything, she moves out of her comfortable blanket nest and approaches hastily.

“I’ve been worried sick about you. Do you know what time it is?”

“You sound like a parent.” I bend over, untying my laces and kicking off my boots.

“Oh, I’m sorry. There are still murderers out there.Plural. Forgive me for worrying.”

“You’re forgiven.”

I’m the one who needs to apologize, but I’m tired, and all I can manage is halfhearted sarcasm.

“Are you going to tell me where you were?”

“The library. I was studying. Have you ever been to the library, Tobey? This is a university, but somehow, I never see you there.”

An exaggeration, of course, and I know it will be a particularly frustrating one. Tobey was always the studious type, not me. The library isn’t my favorite place, but it’s open later than the other buildings.

I meet her sharpened gaze.

“You know exactly why I have no time to study,” she says.

I know many things—like that Tobey would love for their studies to be their biggest concern. In high school, they were always the studious type, helping me with my homework more often than not. But Tobey is right.

It’s Poppy. Everything we do has always been for her. I’ve lived the last few months of my life for our late friend, and it still isn’t enough to appease Tobey. Sometimes, I worry Tobey is intent on spending the rest of their life thinking about her, living for someone else. I can’t do that. I don’t have it in me, but I don’t have the energy to keep pushing Tobey away either. We’re better than this. I have to be better than this.

My lower lip trembles. “I don’t want to fight.”

With a sigh, Tobey’s resolve appears to break. She sits next to me, holding my hand in her warm grasp. “Then stop. Fightingwith you isn’t fun for me, either. I don’t understand what I did wrong, so I don’t think I can apologize…”

“It’s nothing,” I mutter. “It all feels so silly now.”

“You can still tell me what it is.” She cracks a tiny smile. “You don’t need to take yourself so seriously. You’re allowed to feel silly sometimes.”

“It’s Jun-seong.” My expression flattens. “He got in my head, as he always does, saying I would have a better part in the play if I weren’t always”—I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, recalling his earlier words—“playing the third wheel. As I said, it’s silly.”

She wrinkles her nose. “That is ridiculous… ofhim. But I can see why it upset you.”

“Thank you.”

Her empathy does little to ease my mind.

“You know you’re never a third wheel with me, right?”

“I know.” I lift a shoulder. “Jun-seong always knows how to drive me crazy. I think he gets off on it.”

And I’m good at driving him crazy, too. I won’t play the victim. What I said about Amelia was a low blow, and I deserved a jab or two. It’s hard to know the score of our constant game of wits. There’s no winner or loser, just the two of us prodding when we shouldn’t.

“Stop giving him so much power.”

“I’m trying.” I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s hard when he got the lead part in the play, and I’m stuck as a nameless princess. Maybe he’s right. He’s the winner, and I’m a complete loser.”

“He’s not right. Not about you. No matter how lucky he is, that doesn’t diminish your hard work. Why can’t you both be talented?”

I scoff. “That would be the mature mindset, and Jun-seong Park is not mature.”

“But you are?”

“Yes, I am.” I squeeze her hand. “You know I am. Would I be here talking to you if I wasn’t?”