Chapter 60 WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?
CHAOS.
It wasn’t a surprise when Valtor showed up at my door.
He never knocked like a normal person.
Instead, I heard the familiar rattle of the doorknob as he let himself in. He’d been doing it since we were kids, and it always came with the same routine: him barging in like he owned the place, already talking before he saw me.
“Man, you look like shit,” he said, stepping into the room with his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was smirking, but I could tell he was genuinely appalled by the state of me. I didn’t bother standing up from the couch. “You’ve been gone from school for a week, and this is what you’re doing? Just sitting here like some sad puppy?”
“Good to see you too,” I muttered, reaching for the blanket I’d kicked onto the floor earlier.
Valtor squinted at me, probably taking in the mess of unwashed plates on the coffee table, empty soda cans, and the pile of clothes I hadn’t bothered to pick up. He’d always been the tidy one between us, and I could already see his eye twitching in judgment.
He dropped his bag on the couch and fished out a stack of papers. “Homework,” he said, tossing them onto my lap. “Don’t say I never did anything for you. I even got the notes from chemistry. You’re welcome.”
I flipped through the pages lazily. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Clearly, I did,” he shot back, dropping into the recliner across from me. “You don’t even look like you’ve stepped outside in days. What’s the excuse this time? Flu? Alien abduction? Or are you just being dramatic?”
I ignored him, tugging my hoodie higher up my neck. He didn’t need to see the mark there, the fresh reminder of how screwed up things had gotten. I wasn’t ready for the endless jokes or the lecture that would follow. Valtor loved to talk, but he hated silence even more.
“Seriously, Cormac, what’s going on with you?” he asked, leaning forward now. His smirk had faded into something closer to concern.
I didn’t answer right away. My eyes drifted to the corner of the room, where the vacuum cleaner stood like some kind of neglected monument to a life I wasn’t keeping together.
“It’s complicated,” I said finally, but it was a weak explanation, even to me.
“Uh-huh,” he said, not buying it for a second. “Complicated enough that your room looks like a landfill? Goddess, man.” He stood up and rolled his sleeves.
“What are you doing?” I asked, watching as he grabbed the vacuum.
“What does it look like? I’m cleaning this disaster zone before it starts attracting wildlife.”
I wanted to protest, but I didn’t have the energy. He plugged in the vacuum and started working on the carpet like it was his personal vendetta. I leaned back into the couch, letting the hum of the machine fill the silence.
I thought about last week at camp—when everything had gone south with Merrielynn. We’d been arguing, like always, but this time it had cut deeper. She’d brought up my sister, and I’d lost it.
And now, her mark was one me.
She’d meant to hurt me.
And now I was stuck with it, this one-sided mark that felt like a metaphor I couldn’t escape. I’d been trying to avoid thinking about it, but it wasn’t easy when it was right there, staring back at me every time I looked in the mirror.
Could it depict my situation with her any better?
“Earth to Cormac,” Valtor called, snapping me out of my thoughts. He was standing by the sink now, glaring at the mountain of dirty dishes. “Seriously, what is your deal? You look like someone ran you over and backed up to finish the job.”
“Thanks for the support,” I said dryly.
“Don’t mention it.” He started scrubbing a plate, muttering something about me being a lost cause.
I watched him work, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. Valtor didn’t have to do any of this. Hell, he shouldn’t have been here at all. But that was Valtor for you—always sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, always showing up even when you didn’t ask.
“You really don’t have to do this,” I said eventually.
He turned to look at me, a plate dripping with soapy water in his hand. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta. You clearly aren’t in any shape to do it yourself.”
I shrugged.
He tossed the plate into the drying rack and dried his hands on a towel. Then he walked back over to me, grabbed my phone off the coffee table, and shoved it into my chest.
“Here,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re not starving on my watch. Order takeout or something. I’m not letting you live like this.”
I took the phone from him, more out of habit than intention. “What do you want?”
“Not for me,” he said, heading back to the sink. “You. Get yourself something that doesn’t come out of a vending machine. And maybe a shower while you’re at it.”
“Wow,” I said. “The insults just keep coming.”
“Love you too,” he shot back without missing a beat.
I opened the takeout app and scrolled through the options, but my mind wasn’t on food. It was still stuck on last week—on Merrielynn, on the argument, on everything I didn’t know how to fix.
Hey, Val?” I said after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think people can change?”
He turned off the faucet and looked at me, frowning. “That’s random. What’s this about?”
I shook my head. “Just wondering.”
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I think people can change if they want to. But most of the time, they don’t want to. It’s easier to stay the same.”
I nodded, not sure what else to say.
“Why?” he pressed. “What’s got you all philosophical all of a sudden?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, but we both knew it wasn’t true.
He didn’t push, though. Instead, he picked up a dish towel and started drying the plates he’d washed, humming under his breath.
I stared at the phone in my hands, the takeout menu still open. I hadn’t ordered anything yet, but Valtor didn’t seem to care. He was too busy playing housekeeper, tidying up the mess I’d let take over my life.
“Thanks,” I said after a while.
“For what?”
“For not asking too many questions.”
He shrugged. “That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Right.”