WHO: Veronica Clermont & Sam Lawson. WHEN: Right after the Meet and Greet. WHERE: On an Elevator. Going up. SUMMARY: Veronica and Sam have a brief exchange in an elevator. WARNINGS: Veronica uses grief as a weapon.
Veronica Clermont had people to press buttons for her, which would explain the clipped, “seven,” that she monotoned as she took her place in the elevator, cozying up against the wall in a lean.
She didn’t look up from her nail buff as Sam Lawson pocketed his phone and slipped inside before the doors started closing.
She also had people who could press her buttons.
“So.” Pointed as she began to file the other side of her nail. “Day drinking isn’t your idea of fun, either.” A beat. “What is?”
Sam glanced from the nail file to the illuminated numbers on the panel in front of him. He made a show of concentration for the briefest of seconds before responding. “Being forced into first day of school conversations in elevators.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her tone suggested that she was not sorry. The way her eyes flicked up from the nail buff suggested that he had gotten under her skin. “Did you want something a little more grown up? A little more place appropriate?” Her eyes dropped, and that was the only brief beat she needed before continuing, “Does it still hurt? Are you hoping to get the closure you need? Was that Meet and Greet a great first step to healing for you?”
For a few seconds it seemed as though a long slow blink was the only reply that Sam was willing to offer. Once again he studied the nail buff for a second before focusing on Veronica with a withering sort of expression. “Did that make you feel better? Are you done?”
Izzy would have been ashamed.
The sound of keratin meeting the buff came to a sudden stop, and Veronica couldn’t make a show of pretending she had any pride or satisfaction in her cutting tongue. She didn’t. She didn’t feel anything.
“No. I’m done.”
Right. Sam pursed his lips with a scoff as the regret began to seep in. Regret for getting on this elevator, maybe even some regret for coming on this trip.
“Why are you even here?”
Her stomach lurched and her chest felt heavy. Why indeed.
“Why is anyone here? I lost my twin. I lost my brother. I lost five of my closest friends. My father thinks being here,” the nail buffer resumed its grating, “is a good way to honor them. A good way to deal with grief.”
A slow twisting in his gut lead Sam to hold up a hand as if to say ‘stop’ that answer was more than enough, he wasn’t her therapist. “Cool. Good enough. Now I know.”
The elevator dinged, releasing them to the seventh floor.
“Now you know.” She put the file in her clutch and began to walk.
He shouldn’t have mentioned school. This was that moment when you finished a tense conversation with someone but still had to finish walking to the next shared class. He’d jinxed himself.
“Right.” Sam repeated, if only to fill the silence.
“Right.” Her mouth twitched as a surge of emotion welled up, as it were wont to do when least convenient. Another pause, too uncomfortable and too stifling. She had invited him to take up one of her rooms so she didn’t run the risk of boarding up with a ghost-- with someone who knew one her her friends, or worse.
This was not turning out to be any better.
So Veronica fell back onto something reliable: something she’d done since junior high to help her manage emotion when words failed.
“Do you want to play tennis?”
If Sam had been making a mental list of the things he thought she might say next, this wouldn’t even have made the top twenty.
“Now?” He asked incredulously.
“I couldn’t even begin to hazard a guess as to what you have to do on your list of fun, so. Perhaps.”
Whatever that meant. Still. It might be better than exploring this place and wondering how many of the same halls his brother had walked down years before.