"Then I'm glad you showed restraint," Sandy drawled, deadpan, an unconscious, but remarkable imitation of Cal's unimpressed tone. She swallowed past the shake in her throat, the lump that had her eyes burning. Ever since she'd gotten out of solitary, she felt like she'd been on the very edge of breaking. It didn't help that something was wrong with them all, like she was desperately trying to keep sand in her hands but all that was happening was that it kept slipping through her fingers the more she tried to hold it.
She moved in, arms wrapped around herself now, plucking uncomfortably at the sleeves of her shirt. Cassidy's room was empty, like Cal's. Cal's belongings were kept packed, the same way they always had been. Sandy, too, had her belongings in bags, but she'd stuck up some of her drawings on the walls and her sketchbooks were on the table. She'd lost all of the ones she had before, when they were taken, years of drawings of her family in various states.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, then wriggling back so that her back was against the wall, she tipped her head a little towards him, not really knowing how to start the conversation she knew they needed to have. Cal had told her, and so had Rachel, that she needed to use her words. She needed to try harder. Needed to not take her friends for granted, or at least make them not feel like that was the case.