“He has friends,” I tell Avery, on my bed and staring up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I took a cab back to L’Etoile, refusing to let either Sutton or Christopher bring me home.
“He’s probably had friends before.”
“I don’t know.” I remember how he looked bent over his textbook, forlorn and serious and determined. “He may have given his textbooks names and had whole conversations with them.”
“You just never lived in the same city as him,” she says.
“Did you know about this Thieves Club? That’s what they call themselves, Sutton and Christopher and Hugo. And this man whose name is Blue, like the color.”
“Because they steal jewels from the bank?”
“That’s what I asked!” This is why talking to Avery grounds me. She understands me like no one else. Besides she asked for the sc
