The Hearts We Sold(64)

Riley listened while Gremma insisted on feeling for Dee’s wrist.

“You don’t have a pulse,” said Gremma.

“I told you,” replied Dee. “No heart.”

“That’s… well,” said Gremma. “Think about it. You’re, like, frozen in time or something. But you’re still breathing, why are you still breathing?” She pressed a hand to Dee’s forehead, as if trying to take her temperature. “Maybe it’s habit. Are you still eating? Peeing?”

“Pretty sure being heartless doesn’t come with a fever,” said Dee, scooting back. “And, yes. Although it’s none of your business, I have been doing both.” Her eyes fell to the tampon box. “I haven’t had a period since then, though.”

“Okay,” said Gremma, “now that’s a perk I want.”

After Dee thought she had explained everything that Riley needed to know, she made her a bed out of blankets and pillows on the floor. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” said Riley. “I’ve got a few other friends I can ping tomorrow, see if they wouldn’t mind me crashing.”

Dee climbed into bed and pulled her own covers up, shivering slightly. Her phone buzzed.

She let out a breath of relief when she saw the familiar name.

James: r u ok?

Fine, she texted back. You?

i look like i crawled out of a bog. but cora looks worse.

Cora’s okay?

Pissed off. I asked her about the gun and she said something about a concealed carry license she got when she turned 18. U know most people just buy cigarettes or try to sneak into a bar, but nooo. Cora just has to be original.

She could almost hear him say the words and she smiled. Hey. Do you have room in your apartment for someone to crash for a while?

A moment later, he replied: sure.

Dee rolled over, looked down at the nest of blankets and pillows. “Good news. I just secured you temporary lodging.”




Dee went to the dining hall in the early hours, before anyone else would see her piling food onto a tray and sneaking it back into the dorms. On one plate were scrambled eggs with cheese, toast, and bacon. On the other was fruit, cottage cheese, and a bagel. Riley emerged from the blanket nest, her hair sticking up in every direction.

“You,” said Riley, “are officially my newest favorite person.”

They ate breakfast on the floor, crowded around the tray. Gremma sipped black coffee and devoured a cinnamon roll in three bites. Then she was up on her feet, declaring she needed a shower.

Only when they were alone did Dee feel more comfortable speaking about their shared predicament. “So,” she said. “What’d you sell your heart for?”

Riley swallowed her mouthful of cottage cheese with care, as if using the time to consider her answer. “Isn’t that sort of like asking how much someone makes at their job? Taboo and all?”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.” Dee shrugged. “I was just curious. It seems like the icebreaker question for the heartless troop. The only person who keeps it a secret is Cora—and I don’t know why.”

Riley ate another two mouthfuls. Then she shrugged. “Trans,” she said simply. “No money. Parents who disapproved. Need I say more?”

Dee drew in a breath. “So you found a demon.”

Riley let out a small breath. “I’m a teenager,” she said. “I was on my parents’ insurance policy—and they wouldn’t have allowed it.” Her gaze darkened. “If you’re like that other girl—what was her name. Cora. If you’re going to tell me what I did was wrong, you can fuck right off. Making a deal was my decision and—”

“Oh,” said Dee, surprised. “No. I mean, I’m not judging you for making a deal. I mean, I did, too.”

Riley’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “And you asked for money for school?”

Dee smiled in return; also, not a happy smile. “Bad home life.”

“Ah.” Riley’s face softened. “Well. Thank you for letting me crash in your dorm.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” said Riley with quiet insistence. “You said you sold your heart to stay here? Couldn’t you get kicked out for smuggling someone into the room?”

Dee looked down. “Well…”

“Thank you,” repeated Riley. “And thank you for asking that heartless guy if I could crash for a few weeks. It’ll be temporary, I swear. I’ve got a part-time gig as a barista and another friend who’s also looking for a place. We were planning on finding something together.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Dee. “Out of curiosity, how do you feel about paint fumes?”





Dee sat on one of the stained couches and watched as James put together a bedroom.

Well, sort of.

“Is that supposed to be a curtain?” asked Gremma. She strode through the apartment’s open front door, flopped down beside Dee, and tossed her purse onto the coffee

table.

Sure enough, James was on a ladder, attaching large swaths of cloth to the ceiling. “This place doesn’t have a lot of walls,” Dee replied. “He’s decided the best they can do is curtain off that far corner, put in a mattress and storage, and Riley can sleep there for now.”