“Emptying another student’s backpack over his car. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I do,” Ronan said.

“Well, I don’t. I’m not proud of it.”

Ronan patted her leg. “I’ll be proud for you.”

Blue cast a withering look in his direction, but she felt grounded for the first time that day. It was not that the women in 300 Fox Way weren’t her family – they were where her roots were buried, and nothing could diminish that. It was just that there was something newly powerful about this assembled family in this car. They were all growing up and into each other like trees striving together for the sun. “So what’s happening?”

“If you can believe it,” Gansey said, still in his chilly, super-polite tone that meant he was annoyed, “I was originally planning on coming over to talk to Artemus about Glendower. But Ronan has decided to change all that. He has different ideas for our afternoon. More important uses of our time.”

Ronan leaned forward. “Tell me, Dad, are you mad that I fucked up, or are you just mad that I skipped school?”

Gansey said, “I think those both count as fuckups, don’t you?”

“Oh, don’t,” Ronan retorted. “It just sounds vulgar when you say it.”

As Gansey sent the vehicle off from the kerb at a brisk speed, Adam gave Blue a knowing look. His expression said, Yes, they’ve been at this awhile. Blue was strangely grateful for this nonverbal exchange. After their fractious breakup (had they even been dating?), Blue had reconciled herself to Adam being too hurt or uncomfortable to be good friends with her. But he was trying. And she was trying. And it seemed to be working.

Except that she was in love with his best friend and hadn’t told him.

Blue’s feeling of calm immediately dissolved, replaced by the exact same sensation that she had experienced right before she had shaken out Holtzclaw’s backpack over the hood of his car. All emotions fuzzing to white.

She really needed to find some coping mechanisms.

“GANSEY BOY!”

They all startled at the cry through Gansey’s open window. They’d pulled up to the stoplight adjacent to Aglionby’s main gate; a group of students stood on the pavement holding placards. Gansey reluctantly offered the group a three-fingered salute, which provoked further cries of Whoop, whoop, whoop!

The sight of all the boys in their uniforms immediately provoked an unpleasant emotion in Blue. It was a long-held, multiheaded sensation formed from judgement, experience and envy, and she didn’t care for it. It wasn’t that she necessarily thought that her negative opinions on raven boys were wrong. It was just that knowing Gansey, Adam, Ronan and Noah complicated what she did with those opinions. It had been a lot more straightforward when she’d just assumed that she could despise them all from the thin air of the moral high ground.

Blue craned her neck, trying to see what the signs said, but none of the boys were doing a very good job pointing them towards the road. She wondered if Blue Sargent, Aglionby student, would have been Blue Sargent, placard holder. “What are they protesting?”

“Life,” replied Adam drily.

She realized then that she recognized one of the students standing on the pavement. He had an unforgettable tuft of styled black hair and a pair of high-top trainers that could only have looked more expensive if they had been wrapped in dollar bills.

Henry Cheng.

She’d been on a secret date with Gansey the last time she’d seen him. She didn’t remember the fine details, only that his electric super car had broken down by the side of the road, that he’d made a joke that she didn’t find funny, and that he had reminded her of all the ways Gansey was not like her. It had not been a good end to the date.

Henry clearly remembered her, too, because he gave her a wide smile before pointing two fingers at his eyes and then hers.

Her already mixed feelings were joined by yet more mixed feelings.

“What do you call it when you say ‘you’ to mean everyone in general?” Blue asked, leaning forward, eyes still on him.

“Universal you,” Gansey replied. “I think.”

“Yes,” Adam said.

“What a bunch of fancy posers,” Ronan said. It was hard to tell if he meant Gansey and Adam with their grammar prowess or the Aglionby students standing outside with their hand-lettered placards.

“Oh, sure,” Gansey said, still cold and annoyed. “God forbid young men display their principles with futile but public protests when they could be skipping school and judging other students from the backseat of a motor vehicle.”

“Principles? Henry Cheng’s principles are all about getting larger font in the school newsletter,” Ronan said. He did a vaguely offensive version of Henry’s voice: “Serif? Sans serif? More bold, less italics.”

Blue saw Adam both smirk and turn his face away in a hurry so that Gansey wouldn’t see, but it was too late.

“Et tu, Brute?” Gansey asked Adam. “Disappointing.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Adam replied.

The light turned green; the Suburban began to pull away from the protestors.

“Gansey! Gansey! Richard-man!” This was Henry’s voice; even Blue recognized it. There was no vehicle behind them, so Gansey slowed, leaning his head out the window.

“What can I do for you, Mr Cheng?”

“You’ve got … your tailgate is open, I think.” Henry’s airy expression had turned complicated. The cheery smile had not quite slipped, but there was something behind it. Blue once again felt the surge of uncertainty; she knew what Henry was like, but she also didn’t know all of what he was like.

Gansey scanned the dash for notification lights. “It’s not … oh.” His voice had changed to match Henry’s expression. “Ronan.”

“What?” snapped Ronan. His jealousy of Henry was visible from space.

“Our tailgate is open.”

A car honked behind them. Gansey waved at them in his rearview mirror, saluted Henry, and hit the gas. Blue looked over her shoulder in time to see Henry turn back to the other students, his expression once more melting into the uncomplicated wide grin he’d worn before.

Interesting.

Meanwhile, Ronan twisted to look in the rear cargo space behind the backseats. He hissed, “Stay down.”