Free Perfect Ruin by Lauren DeStefano Page A

this. What does he have to do with a murdered girl’s betrothed from the academy?
    The broadcast ends, and the room reaches a crescendo of chatter. Lots of speculation, but no answers among the lot of us.
    All night, my dreams are pervaded by my brother’s furious pacing overhead. I fear the floorboards will splinter and break.
    The cafeteria is filled with morbid, fascinated gossip. Judas is the name of a hero in the history book. The right-hand man to the king, he penned the first page of
The History of Internment
. The sky god favored him, and when Judas died, Internment experienced its one and only water storm. To think a boy named after Judas could commit such a crime.
    Pen pulls excitedly on my sleeve. “It’s all like a tawdry romantic horror,” she says. “Can you even believe it?”
    It’s all anyone in the cafeteria is talking about. I know because I overhear pieces of conversation—“Did anyone know them?”—“always a little strange”—“pretty girl”—“stuck up, if you ask me.” But I don’t find myself among them. I’m not interested in the gossip. I’m more worried about the aftermath.
    “Wonder when the trial will begin,” Basil says.
    “They’ll have a difficult time finding a jury, I imagine,” Thomas says. “It’s supposed to be unbiased. Who can be unbiased about murder? It’s clearly wrong.”
    “Unless he didn’t do it,” I blurt, surprising myself. Everyone’s eyes are on me. “I mean—that’s what the trial is for, isn’t it? To determine innocence?”
    Pen shrugs. “Guess we’ll see. Is there a math exam this week?”
    And the topic of Daphne Leander and Judas Hensley dies away.
    “Lex?”
    “What is it?” he says after a pause. I knocked, but he won’t open his office door to me. Lost in his brilliance, I suppose. He was always like that—going off by himself. But his blindness has intensified it.
    “I wanted to talk to you,” I say.
    “Talk about what?”
    “Things,” I say. “That’s what sisters do. You know, because you’re my brother and I care about you?”
    “You bug me,” he says. “That’s what sisters do. How do you know I’m not trying to nap?”
    “You aren’t,” I press. “The ceiling is practically crumbling over my bedroom.”
    He ignores me. Alice, standing at the end of the hall, frowns in apology. Lex has even begun to elude her. I worry for him, alone in all that blackness.
    I sit on the floor and lean against the door.
    “Who was that little girl at your jumper group?” I ask. “She had a bow in her hair.” Too late, I realize a physical description won’t do my brother any good. “She can’t be more than eleven or twelve.”
    No answer.
    “The day of the fire, I caught her putting up papers in the ladies’ room at the theater. I think she put them up at the academy, too. They were copies of a paper Daphne Leander wrote about the gods being a myth.”
    The door opens, and I tense to keep from falling backward. Lex reaches out for me.
    “Where are you?” he says.
    “Down here.” I hold up my hand and he takes it, feeling his way until he’s on his knees across from me.
    “That girl is none of your concern,” he says.
    “Is she really a jumper?” I say.
    “Yes. And you have no business talking to her.”
    “She’s Daphne Leander’s sister,” I say. “Isn’t she?”
    “I’m not kidding, Morgan. You stay away from her.”
    He’s in a miserable mood, and there’s no sense pressing him for more, but all he’s done is pique my interest.
    “Since you’re out, come on and eat something,” Alice says. “I made berry cobbler.”
    Later, when Lex has retreated to his office once again, Alice is washing the dishes and I’m drying them.
    “He is right,” she says. “It’s best if you stay away from that girl.”
    “Who is she?” I say. Alice takes her husband’s side about most things, but she’s always had a soft spot for me.
    “You were right,” she says, handing me a dripping plate.