He's calling Newt a coward. That sinking, plummeting feeling ends in a crash. My hands curl into fists and my feet take me one more step into Kavinsky's space.

Newt knows he threw harsh accusations at Kavinsky that day, but he's human. He must have felt like I did when I found out about Kavinsky, when I thought that Newt hadn't told Kavinsky about me, only magnified.

"Newt didn't send me," I say, snap, growl, I don't know. Kavinsky isn't listening at all. He just won't hear the truth.

It happens before I realize what I'm doing -- my fist swings at him, at his jaw.