I set my fork down, looked down at my index finger and scratched at the smear of charcoal. I couldn’t seem to get it to come off completely when I washed my hands before coming down for dinner.
A dinner that was silent and awkward. Even though Rex and Elyria were making an attempt to bring some kind of normalcy. It was almost painful. Isolde, continuing her theme of structures, was making something out of her mashed potatoes and peas. I smiled. She lifted her eyes and met mine. She smiled back and resumed.
To me, the most awkward part was Holt’s quietness. I was sitting beside Holt. He hasn’t looked up fully once. He hasn’t said a single word. And it is throwing me off from the usual routine that I’ve become accustomed to.
There is a faint bruise darkening at his jawline. On anyone else
