was willing to bet more than words had been flying.
Standing ten feet away was Heather. Actually, Heather was pacing, bouncing, and jumping up and down. Anything but standing. As far as Gaia could tell, Heather was still wearing the same sweatshirt and jeans she had worn the night before at the brownstone. Her hair had gone beyond tangled, into ratâs nest territory that even Gaia rarely reached.
âYou. . . you. . . ,â Heather said. She backed up a step, came forward, tightened her hands into fists. Then backed up again. âYou think you know whatâs important, but you donât because, see, youâre afraid. Youâre afraid of everything. I thought I knew, but I was wrong because tiny, tiny. . .â She stopped and her throat worked up and down, as if there were more words down there, but she couldnât choke them out.
At first Gaia could only stare in amazement and horror. The Heather that showed up at the brownstone had definitely been playing hockey with a warped puck. This Heather had thrown the puck away.
Gaia stepped forward. âWhatâs going on, Heather?â
Heatherâs neck snapped around, and her face took on a smug, satisfied expression. âThere you are. I knew you would turn up.â
âYou did?â What was it they said in all the psych books? Talk in a calm, rational tone. Make eye contact. âWere you looking for me?â
Heather snorted, a big honking snort-laugh that would have had the old, sane Heather blushing with embarrassment. âI wasnât looking for you. Iâm never looking for you. I donât care if I ever see you.â
Yeah, I love you, too. âSo, whatâs wrong, then?â
âWrong? Nothingâs wrong.â Heather spread her arms wide, like she wanted to give the whole planet a hug. The expression on her face changed to a broad smile. âFor the first time in my life, everything is absolutely and completely right.â
Across the hall, Megan took this opportunity to flee into the crowd. Gaia could hear the girl crying as she ran down the hall. Heather didnât seem to notice.
âWhy donât we go outside?â Gaia suggested. âMaybe we can find aââ
âWhy donât you go to hell?â said Heather. Strands of dirty brown hair spilled down her forehead, and there was a dangerous shine in her eyes, like someone running a high fever. She stepped forward until her face was only inches from Gaiaâs. âYou think Iâm afraid of you?â
Despite herself Gaia felt the warm surge and tingle that came with a fight. The muscles in her arms and legs tensed. âI donât know. Are you?â
âNot anymore. Iâm not afraid of you. Iâm not afraid of anything.â Heather took a step back and put her hands on her hips. Suddenly she smiled. âIâm free, see what I mean?â
Gaia relaxed. Heather was being erratic, but she didnât seem to be actuallyâ
The punch caught Gaia at the corner of the jaw and knocked her back. She stepped back in surprise, and then the fire was burning through her. She wasnât just ready to fight; she was in a fight.
Heather waded toward her, her arms waving through the air. âSee! See!â she shouted. âIâm not afraid. Not afraid.â She sent a roundhouse punch toward Gaiaâs face.
Gaia blocked the punch with a forearm. It was a clumsy punch, really, but Heather delivered it with unexpected force. Gaia blocked a second punch, ducked a third, and stopped a jab against the palm of her open hand.
Heather laughed. She threw her punches cheerfully, as if fighting was the greatest thing in the world. If she noticed that none of her shots were connecting, it didnât show on her face.
âMs. Moore! Ms. Gannis!â shouted a voice from the right. âStop it this instant.â
Gaia didnât turn to look at the voice. She had already taken two