Free Chemistry by Jodi Lamm

not his ticket out. She isn’t a bridge between his two worlds. She’s something else entirely.
    “But… aren’t we too young to marry?” she asks, and I swear even Phoebus looks undone by her innocence.
    “Marry?” He laughs.
    She backs away from him, confused.
    My God, Peter was right. She is a Virgin, with a capitol ‘V’. I can’t tell you how much this excites and surprises me. It excites Phoebus, too, but for a completely different reason. I believe in her purity. I believe she could change me. I believe she could restore my humanity. Phoebus thinks he’s found easy prey.
    “Marriage is just a piece of paper,” he says. “I mean do we really need the government’s permission to be in love? And who says we’re too young? How old were Romeo and Juliet, huh?” I suppose Sophomore English has its uses after all. “Come on, Emilia! People who have the government’s permission don’t love each other any more for it, do they? Fuck the system!” He grins at his own illusory rebellion. “Yeah.”
    Esmeralda giggles and stands on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck. “Yeah,” she says, and she presses her lips to his, as he starts to unbutton her shirt.
    I am transfixed. She’s so beautiful, so perfectly wrapped in her own skin. As her shirt falls from her shoulders, I see the white straps of her bra, the silhouette of her breasts, and a glint of warm light at her chest. It’s a gold pendant, shaped like little shoes. She clutches it and pulls away from Phoebus.
    “Is something wrong?” Phoebus sounds genuinely concerned, which surprises me.
    “It was my mother’s,” she says, glancing down at her pendant, the hidden treasure he’s exposed.
    Phoebus pushes her hair behind her ear with more tenderness than I’ve ever seen him use on Lily Darling. “She was so stupid to walk away from you,” he says. “She’ll never know what she lost.”
    And no matter how much I hate it, part of me resonates with his words. I know what he means. I feel that way about Valentine’s parents, and his foster parents, too. They have no idea what they’ve thrown away. They have no idea the value of the person they tossed to me. But I do. I’ve seen his wit and his talent. I’ve seen the size and makeup of his heart. And thinking about him—as I crouch in this closet, in this ridiculous position—almost brings me out of my hypnosis.
    Almost.
    In one quick, arrogant gesture, Phoebus pulls Esmeralda’s shirt completely off and hides it behind his back with a playful smirk. Esmeralda is not amused. So quick I can’t even see it, she’s produced the little stinger Peter told me about. I can’t even tell where it came from, but I see it in her hand now, glinting in the moonlight. She’s pointing it at Phoebus, a fierce expression on her dollish face. And I’m as proud as I would be if she had just recited the periodic table flawlessly for the first time.
    “Give that back!” she cries.
    For a moment, Phoebus wavers. I can see his confidence flicker like a candle about to go out. He holds the shirt out, and she snatches it back. “I see how it is,” he says. “You’ve just been playing with me, haven’t you? You don’t love me. God, I’m so stupid sometimes.”
    He’s giving a performance. Even I can see that. But Esmeralda falters. “Oh… I do love you. I do! Please, believe me. I’m just… shy.”
    I want to scream at her from my hiding place. He’s lying! He’s lying! He’s lying! Don’t give in to him! Don’t let him manipulate you! But she does.
    She drops both her shirt and her knife and throws herself into his arms. “I’m yours, Phoebus, number fourteen. I’ll do anything for you, I swear. I’ll live with you, and I’ll forget my mother. Who needs a mother, anyway? Not me. Not as long as I have you. I’ll love you forever. I’ll stay with you until we’re old. I’ll forgive all your stupid affairs. And I’ll take care of you. I’ll do anything for you.”
    Dear God,