The nurse shared their lunch period, it seemed, or otherwise had a knack for disappearing at the most inopportune of times. Collin saw the note on the door and elbowed Derek to get the man's attention. Derek didn't as much as twitch.

"Iris, she's not in," Collin tried.

Iris didn't answer. Collin glared at the back of her head. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail; he thought he saw flashes of silver under the black, like fish scales glinting among river reeds.

"In here," Iris said.

Derek lumbered after her through an open door, dragging Collin along. Collin squinted under the glare of overhead lights. The office looked familiar. So did the man watching them with sharp, smiling eyes.

"Couch," Iris instructed.

Derek dumped him on the couch. He was gentle about it, but Collin still felt the rattle of the springs in his teeth. "Sorry," Derek said.

Collin waved him off, too seasick to talk. He tried to tune in on Iris and Reed, but heard nothing of use other than his name and possibly Michael's. How Iris knew who Michael was, Collin had no idea.

"What do you want to do?" Reed asked. He didn't sound especially interested – but he had asked, so he must want an answer.

Iris had her back to Collin, so he couldn't make out her expression. "Take a look at him," she said.

Collin saw the flicker of disappointment in Reed's eyes before they curled in another false smile. "Call your mother," he said. Iris grunted in agreement.

Collin watched Reed advance through narrowed eyes, trying his best to keep the man's image from doubling. "I'm fine," he said.

Reed tilted Collin's head up with a firm hand under his chin. Collin snarled, and would have bitten the man had the whole world not chosen that moment to tilt topside up.

"Follow my finger," Reed instructed.

Collin did, though grudgingly. Reed let him go after a few passes. He pushed his head down next. Collin ground his teeth and leaned forward, biting back winces as Reed felt over the sore spot at the base of his skull.

"Careful," Iris snapped.

"He has a mouth," Reed said evenly. His fingers gentled, then lifted altogether. "Remain as you are. Mr. Wilburn, take this. There is ice in the fridge, if you would please make a compress."

Collin sat stiffly while Reed applied something medicinal to the swelling. He heard Iris dial, and hunched his shoulders.

"Hey, mom. No, nothing happened – well, nothing like that. Listen, Collin fell and hit his head-" there was a burst of sound from the other end of the line. Iris powered through, raising her own voice, "He's fine! It's just a little bruise. Sure, here."

A phone appeared under Collin's nose. Collin stared at the glowing screen, startled.

"It's on speaker," Iris said.

"Collin? Are you alright?" Mrs. Weaver asked, voice high and worried.

Collin swallowed. "Y-yeah, I'm – I'm fine," he croaked.

"Would you like me to pick you up?"

Collin shook his head, only to remember that Mrs. Weaver couldn't see him, "No, it's nothing, don't – please don't worry. It's really just a bruise," he stammered.

"Did you go to the nurse?" Mrs. Weaver pressed.

Collin hesitated. He didn't want to lie, but the truth would bring more questions, and not the kind he knew how to answer.

The phone disappeared before he could make up his mind. "He got a check-up, he's fine. We're heading back to class. Yeah. Yeah, okay – see you after school."

Iris swiped the call off the screen, possibly cutting her mother off mid-sentence. Collin scowled at what he could see of the girl without moving.

"You didn't tell her," Reed noted.

"There's nothing to tell," Iris said.

Reed pressed something cold to Collin's head. Collin hissed and tried to draw away, but the man held him still, hand like an iron band at the back of his neck. "Keep this against the bruise for as long as you can," he said.

Collin scrambled to grip the compress. The ice was wrapped in a thin handkerchief, very likely Reed's own. Collin disliked having it on his skin but he didn't dare let go, in case the man decided to force him still again. For his own good, of course. It always fucking was, with men like Reed.

"Want something for the pain?" Iris asked. She sat propped up against Reed's desk and watched Collin with the intensity of a hawk about to swoop in for the kill.

"No," Collin said.

Reed had a slick laptop open when Collin sneaked a look the man's way, and seemed consumed by whatever it was he was typing. He didn't say anything when Iris got up to leave. Derek followed after her, not bothering with words. Collin lingered in the doorway, feeling strange about leaving without an acknowledgement of some sort. "Thanks," he said at last.

Reed raised his head. He looked at Collin long enough for the moment to turn awkward. Collin turned his back to him and shuffled out as fast as he could, compress and all.

"See you soon, Mr. Weaver," Reed called after him.

"Not if I can help it," Collin muttered under his breath.

The door closed between them. Collin's head throbbed like a heart, raw and exposed. He took the compress away for a moment. The ice was starting to hurt, scraping over too-sensitive skin.

"Want me to do something about Michael?" Derek asked.

Collin glared at the man, about to ask what the hell he thought he could do. Derek's eyes were on Iris, expectation written clear in every hopeful line of his face. Collin's stomach lurched unpleasantly, and it had nothing to do with his bruised head.

"Leave it to the principal. This time," Iris said. She glanced at Collin, good eye curved in mirth. "I'm sure Cal can handle a little rough play."

Collin took a breath to steady himself. "Go to class," he hissed at Derek.

Derek had the gall to blink at him like he'd only just noticed Collin was there. He looked at his watch, then at Iris, who waved him off as one would a fly. Collin watched him go, torn between pity and disgust. Blind loyalty rarely led to good things. Least of all when it was for someone as sketchy as Iris.

They walked silently for a while. Class was well underway, the hallways silent but for hushed murmurs behind closed doors. Iris' voice, when she spoke, bounced against the walls with a hollow echo.

"Reed likes to push," Iris said.

"I noticed," Collin grunted. He made to press the compress back to his head; Iris caught his arm and tugged. In Collin's muddled state, she almost took him off his feet. He wheeled on her and threw her hand off with a snarl. "The fuck?"

Iris didn't budge. They stood close, as close as they had the night they'd met. No closer in any other sense, Collin thought. He had as much clue about what made Iris tick as he had when he'd faced her in the candy isle. "He will push until you push back, and then he will push some more, until you break," Iris said.

A jagged smile tugged at Collin's lips. He'd taken Reed's measure already. It amused him to hear Iris talk about it like it was something that mattered – but then again, perhaps it did. Perhaps it could, to people who grew up in nice homes, surrounded by kindness.

"What do you expect me to do about it?" he asked.

Iris watched him without a hint of an expression. Collin sobered, shoulders straightening under the weight of her regard.

"Don't break," she said at last.

Collin snorted. "I don't care about Reed," he said. "Come on, we can still catch the last of twenty minutes of lit."

Iris didn't look appeased, but kept her peace. Collin might've felt more grateful had he not had to watch her play the fool in class after class. He was startled to find that he preferred Iris as she was, dead stares and all, over the sweet version of whoever she had once been that she wore like a cracked mask.

Don't break, Iris'd said.

Collin wondered if Iris had, if the girl with the scars and missing eye was Iris Weaver reassembled, possibly missing a few pieces. The thought didn't sit right. The alternative was just as unsettling, so Collin put the entire subject out of mind and thought about what they might be having for dinner instead. That, and how he would get Michael back, first chance he got.

It was about damn time Collin did some pushing of his own.