The Better Part of Darkness

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“You told a two-thousand-year-old oracle to prove it.” Hank kept pace beside me, nursing his bloody nose with a handful of fast-food napkins I’d pulled from the glove box earlier. “I mean, do you ever think before the words spew out of your mouth, Charlie?”

“Yeah, all the time.” I jogged up the four brick steps. “If Alessandra didn’t have to act like a know-it-all, then I wouldn’t have to say things to her.”

“She is a know-it-all!”

A tired huff escaped me as I opened the front door to Hope Ridge School for Girls and fixed Hank with a deadpan look. “You’ve been whining ever since we left.”

He swept past me, riding high on his martyrdom. “I’m not whining, I’m complaining. About you. And your incredible talent for pissing off people way more powerful than yourself.”

I was exhausted from another sleepless night, and Hank’s bitching grated on my last nerve. “Well, what do you want me to say, Hank?”

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