Ripple

there.

Nothing.

I knock again, glancing back at my car. Still, no answer. I step down off the porch and walk around the other side of the house, peering into the dark windows. She must be home by now. Where else would she go?

I knock on the backdoor, but again, no one answers. Reluctantly, I turn the knob, surprised when it clicks open. The soft melody of pop music floats from Sienna’s bedroom. Maybe she didn’t hear me knocking.

I push the door shut, then turn around in the darkness and call out to her. “Sienna?”

Nothing. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I walk slowly, cautiously, across the kitchen, toward her room. “Hello?”

I knock softly on the door, and it nudges open. Warning bells go off in my head. The room is shadowed, quiet except for the music. I almost don’t see her.

She’s sitting on the window seat, staring out at the closed drapes, still as a statue. Shadows stretch along the corners of the room, creep up around me. Why is she sitting in the dark? Staring at nothing?

I swallow. “Sienna?”

She turns and looks at me. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes red-rimmed. She hasn’t changed since she left the lake, mud still clinging to the hem of her pajama pants.

“You killed him, didn’t you?” Her voice is cold, icy, devoid of all emotion, except an undercurrent of anger.

My mouth goes dry.

“Who?” Please say Erik.

“Steven. Erik came over, said there was something really important for me to see, and I followed him up those godforsaken gravel roads for miles. He refused to say a word until we got to the lake, and then he couldn’t stop talking. He called you a siren. Told me that I could hear your voice, but Cole couldn’t, or you’d drown him. He was disappointed when you didn’t sing right away. He was going to pull Cole’s headphones off and let him walk into the water.”

A wave of horror overpowers me. Erik was never going to be the one to kill Cole.

I was.

She turns just enough to let her legs dangle off the edge of the window seat. She’s so short they don’t reach the floor. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About the way you’ve acted these last two years. It wasn’t an accident. You killed Steven. You are the reason he walked into the ocean.”

My heart beats louder in my ears.

Sienna’s voice is razor thin, barely controlled. She’s glaring at me, waiting for an answer.

My breath comes harder, faster, and I fight to choke the tears down. “Sienna, you don’t understand. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know what I was doing—”

Sienna whips around, grabs the glass of water, and hurls it at me. I duck just in time—it whistles right past my head before shattering against her bedroom wall. I stay crouched on the floor for a heartthumping moment, and then shakily get to my feet to see the anger blazing in her eyes.

The secret that had been wedged between us all this time has now ripped us apart.

“You had to know how much it ate at me, not knowing why he drowned,” she screams. “He was a good swimmer, and I knew the police were wrong. You had to know how hard it’s been to let him go when none of it made sense!”

She grits her teeth so hard I’m shocked they don’t break.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she says, her voice turning low, boiling with fury. “I don’t want to see you. You will change classes. You will stay away from my family, my friends, my fucking lunch table. If you ever speak to me again, I will expose you for what you are.”

“Sien—”

“Go. Now.” She picks up something else from the table next to her—it looks like small jewelry box—and I scramble backward and knock her bedroom door open so hard it punches a small indent in her drywall.

I run through the house, nearly tripping on an area rug, and throw open the front door. My throat hurts— burns with unshed tears. I shove the door shut and struggle to get my feet to work properly.

Cole gets out of the car and rushes to me. I fall into him.

Everything Sienna and I shared, everything we tried to get back, it’s over. I’ll never have my best friend back. It hurts even more than I could have imagined. Hurts more than when I lost her the first time. Because now I know what it’s like without her, and I don’t want to go back to that. But she knows the truth now. She knows I murdered her brother. And she’ll never let me in again.

Cole takes in my wild look, and his eyes dart over to her house.

“She didn’t—”

“No.” I gulp back the tears. “She’s not ... She hates me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, going to hug me.

I pull away. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? Let’s just go to your house.”

I glance back at Sienna’s house one more time as I climb into the car, wondering if I’ll ever set foot in it again, knowing I won’t.

Friendship only survives so much.

I take a shower in Cole’s bathroom, relishing the sting of the hot water over my skin. Every part of me aches, and there are bluish spots all over my body from the fight with Erik. If I could, I’d spend all night in the hot steam of the shower.

I wince as I rub a bar of soap over my sore ribs. It’s like someone put me inside a dryer and left me there for an hour, tumbling around in the barrel. I switch the water off, towel dry, and pull the T-shirt and boxers Cole loaned me and over my limbs. I run a comb through my hair, watching the gentle waves spring back to life.

Not even a murder attempt is enough to ruin my hair.

I stare at myself in the mirror, try to recognize myself. So many things changed tonight.

For starters, I killed again. When Erik told me he loved me, part of me realized I had to leave him. But I never planned on killing him. I grip the edge of the countertop and close my eyes, unable to look back at myself any longer

It doesn’t matter that it was self-defense. That Erik would have surely killed me if I hadn’t done it. I still ended another life. I swallow, willing the tears away. I don’t want to kill again. Ever again. I’ve lost so much because of the water. And now that Erik is gone, now that I know he could never really solve my curse, I might be right back where I started.

If Erik was really lying . . . if this goes on forever . . . I don’t know how long I can handle it. Handle what I am.

A knock on the door makes me jump. “You okay?”

I nod, then realize he can’t see me. “Yep,” I say, forcing my voice to remain neutral.

“Then can you come out of there and talk to me?”

I sigh. Then I double-check that my eyes aren’t as red-rimmed as they feel, and I leave the quiet of his bathroom.

When I walk into his bedroom, my bare feet padding across the luxurious carpet, the nerves in my stomach multiply. Cole sits at the edge of his bed, a remote in his hand, the blue of the television basking him in an odd glow. He’s wearing a faded gray T-shirt, his dark wet hair gracing the collar. He looks natural, at ease in his own environment.

I stop at the foot of the bed and swallow, fighting the urge to wring my hands. I know he must have more questions, but I don’t know if he’s going to like the answers.

There has to be a moment he steps back and realizes this isn’t worth it. That I’m not worth it.

He flicks off the television and drops the remote. The only light in the room comes from the porch light outside, an odd yellow light between the cracks of the partially closed curtains. Cole stands and steps toward me, slinging his arms around my shoulders and crushing me against him.

Relief floods through me as I rest my cheek against his shoulder, breathing in the fresh scent of his bar soap, the same scent that still lingers on my skin. His body is warm, soft, secure, and I could stand like this all day,