Delirium (Delirium #1)(64)

“Shhh,” I say. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.” But the words seem stupid even as I say them. I think of holding Grace in my arms and rocking her to sleep, saying the same thing, as she screamed silently into my pillow. It’s going to be okay. Words that mean nothing, really, just sounds intoned into vastness and darkness, little scrabbling attempts to latch on to something when we’re falling.

Hana says something else I don’t understand. Her face is mashed into my shoulder blade and her words are garbled.

And then the knocking begins. Four soft but deliberate knocks, one right after the other.

Hana and I step away from each other immediately. She draws an arm across her face, leaving a slick of tears from wrist to elbow.

“What’s that?” she says. Her voice is trembling.

“What?” My first thought is to pretend I haven’t heard anything—and pray to God that Alex goes away.

Knock, knock, knock. Pause. Knock. Again.

“That.” Irritation creeps into Hana’s voice. I guess I should be happy she’s not crying anymore. “The knocking.” She narrows her eyes, staring at me suspiciously. “I thought nobody comes in this way.”

“They don’t. I mean—sometimes—I mean, the delivery guys—” I’m stumbling over my words, praying for Alex to go away, grasping for a lie that isn’t coming. So much for my newfound skills.

Then Alex pokes his head in the door and calls out, “Lena?” He catches sight of Hana first and freezes, half-in and half-out of the alley.

For a minute nobody speaks. Hana’s mouth literally falls open. She whips around from Alex to me and then back to Alex, so quickly it looks like her head is going to fly off her neck. Alex doesn’t know what to do either. He just stands completely still, like he can go invisible if he doesn’t move.

And it’s the stupidest thing in the world, but all I can blurt out is, “You’re late.”

Hana and Alex both speak at once. “You told him to meet you?” she says, as he says, “I got stopped by patrol. Had to show my cards.”

Hana gets businesslike all at once. This is why I admire her: One second she’s sobbing hysterically, the next second she’s completely in control.

“Come inside,” she says, “and shut the door.”

He does. Then he stands there awkwardly, shuffling his feet. His hair is sticking up all weirdly, and in that second he looks so young and cute and nervous I have a crazy urge to walk right up to him, in front of Hana, and kiss him.

But she quashes that urge really quickly. She turns to me and folds her arms and gives me a look I swear she stole from Mrs. McIntosh, the principal of St. Anne’s.

“Lena Ella Haloway Tiddle,” she says. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Your middle name is Ella?” Alex blurts.

Hana and I both shoot him a death stare, and he takes a step backward and ducks his head.

“Um.” Words still aren’t coming very easily. “Hana, you remember Alex.”

She keeps her arms locked in place and narrows her eyes. “Oh, I remember Alex. What I don’t remember is why Alex is here.”

“He . . . well, he was going to drop off . . .” I’m still searching for a convincing explanation but, as usual, my brain picks that second to conveniently die on me. I look at Alex helplessly.

He gives a minute shrug of his shoulders, and for a moment we just stare at each other. I’m still not used to seeing him, to being around him, and again I have the sensation of falling into his eyes. But this time it’s not dizzying. It’s the opposite—grounding, like he’s whispering to me wordlessly, saying he’s there and he’s with me and we’re fine.

“Tell her,” he says.

Hana leans up against the shelves stocked with toilet paper and canned beans, relaxing her arms just enough so I know she isn’t mad, and gives me a look like, You better tell me.

So I do. I’m not sure how long we have until Jed gets tired of manning the register by himself, so I try to keep it short. I tell her about running into Alex at Roaring Brook Farms; I tell her about swimming out to the buoys with him at East End Beach and what he told me when we were there. I choke a little bit on the word Invalid and Hana’s eyes widen—just for a second I see a look of alarm flash across her face—but she keeps it together pretty well. I finish by telling her about last night, and going to find her to warn her about the raids, and the dog and how Alex saved me. When I describe hiding out in the shed I get nervous again—I don’t tell her about the kissing, but I can’t help but think about it—but Hana is openmouthed again at that point, and obviously in shock, so I don’t think she notices.

The only thing she says at the end of my story is: “So you were there? You were there last night?” Her voice is weird and trembly, and I’m worried she’s going to start crying again. At the same time I feel a tremendous rush of relief. She’s not going to freak out about Alex, or be mad that I didn’t tell her.

I nod.

She shakes her head, staring at me like she’s never seen me before. “I can’t believe that. I can’t believe you snuck out during a raid—for me.”

“Yeah, well.” I shift uncomfortably. It feels like I’ve been talking for ages, and Hana and Alex have both been staring at me the whole time. My cheeks are flaming hot.