FIVE
5:45 P.M.
“IS THAT YOU, JOSEPHINE?”
Josie froze midtiptoe. Dammit. Her mom was supposed to be staying late at the lab like, you know, she mentioned on the phone not even two hours ago. And when her mom said she was staying late at work, she meant it like 99.99 percent of the time.
But no. Not today. Today of all days, her mom surprised her by coming home early.
Perfect.
Josie had driven around for almost an hour, trying to decide what to do. A variety of choices crossed her mind, everything from plunging her car into the Anacostia River, to driving back to Madison’s house to tell them both exactly what she thought of them, to several other options that would have gotten her thirty to life in a state penitentiary.
For the first half hour or so her phone had rung off the hook. First Nick, then Madison, then Nick again. Rinse, repeat.
Then the texts. First Madison, in a rapid, manic stream.
Madison: Josie, please just listen.
Madison: It’s not what you think.
Madison: I mean, it is, but it’s not like that.
Madison: Nick just needed someone to talk to.
Madison: And you’ve been so busy.
Madison: And things just happened. I didn’t mean them to. I swear.
Then Nick. His texts came more slowly, as if he labored over what to say.
Nick: I’m sorry.
Nick: I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just happened.
Nick: You’ve been so distant lately.
Nick: I know that’s no excuse.
Nick: I don’t know what else to say.
Josie had ignored them all. She didn’t want to talk to either of them. Especially not Nick. She didn’t want to hear him beg for forgiveness. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t. Josie recalled the conversation they had after school.
“Josephine?” her mom repeated. Her voice was louder, and Josie could clearly hear her footsteps ascending from the basement.
She should have stayed in the car.
“Josephine!” Her mom stood in the doorway that led to the basement lab, still in her white coat, with the top half of her dark brown hair twirled up on the top of her head and secured with two ballpoint pens.
“Is everything okay?”
Josie opened her mouth to say something, but the words froze on her tongue.
“What?” her mom said.
Josie flinched. She wanted to tell her mom the truth—about Nick and Madison, about her job, and about the train. She wanted a squishy hug, to feel her mom’s long fingers comb through Josie’s hair and for her mom to tell her that everything was going to be okay. But there had been such a strain between them the last few months, a divide that neither of them seemed able to cross, and the last thing Josie needed at that moment was to be rejected by her own mother.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
Josie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt suddenly dizzy; the cramped quarters of the hallway spun around her. She just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and pray that when she woke up, she’d discover that she’d gunned the engine on her car and outrun the oncoming train.
Maybe then, none of this would have happened.
“Where’s the mirror?” her mom asked abruptly.
Right. The real reason her mom was even talking to her. “I left it in the garage.”
“Fine, fine,” she muttered more to herself than to Josie. “I’ll move it downstairs to the lab.” Then she cleared her throat and turned suddenly toward her bedroom door. “I have to go out tonight.”
Josie shook herself. “Oh.” Great. Was her mom dating now?
“Just back to the lab,” she said, as if reading Josie’s mind. “Running an experiment. Need to check in. You’ll be okay here?”
Josie shrugged. “Sure.”
“Good.” Her mom paused as if she was going to add something, then shook her head again in that odd, distracted way. “Get some rest, Josephine. You look tired.”
2:37 A.M.
Time abandoned her.
Josie had been lying on her bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling for what felt like days, yet the alarm clock on her nightstand mocked her. It had only been four hours.
Stupid clock.
Her mom said she looked tired, but that was an understatement. She was exhausted, plain and simple. Hours of crying would do that. Her temples throbbed from the headache that ravaged the very depths of her brain, and her raw, bloodshot eyes ached beneath swollen lids. Her limbs were heavy, a mix of fatigue and despair, and her entire existence felt futile.
Her body and mind were completely worn down, yet she couldn’t sleep. Not for half a second had she slipped into blissful unconsciousness. She’d been aware of every moment that passed, even the sound of her mom quietly opening the front door when she got home, and dragging something heavy down the hall and into the basement. The stupid mirror, no doubt. Josie had been wide awake for all of it.
She’d tried to fall asleep, of course, for hours. All her usual tricks: counting sheep, pretending she was on a tropical island with Nick—she even looked for comfort in her favorite childhood stuffed animal, Mr. Fugly Bear. Whenever there was a thunder-and-lightning storm, her dad would bring her Mr. Fugly Bear (so named because he was missing an ear and the “thumb” off his right paw due to a washing-machine incident), who was the bravest, most rugged bear in town and would protect her from any and all danger. He’d prop Mr. Fugly Bear up against Josie’s pillow, facing the window in case any monsters tried to crawl in that way.
Whether or not Mr. Fugly Bear could protect Josie from a trampled heart was never put to the test. He always sat on one of her bookshelves, but suddenly he was gone. There was another teddy bear on the shelf that looked vaguely familiar, but no Mr. Fugly. She must have moved him when cleaning up her room, accidentally shoved him to the back of a shelf or something.
Even he knew when to jump off a sinking ship, apparently.
And so she just lay there, staring at the ceiling. She couldn’t erase the last view of Nick from her mind: shirtless, standing in the middle of the street in front of Madison’s house.
Eyes open or closed, she couldn’t get that image out of her mind. And it stayed with her, mocking her pain, it seemed, until sleep finally overtook her.
3:59 A.M.
