“I’m all right,” I say. “I’m just tried. You know, with the time change and all…”
Jesus, the time change…I roll my eyes. Didn’t that happen like months ago?
“Oh.”
Shit. She doesn’t believe me, but then I remember how excited she was about Voclain, how she and Dad raved about how my grandparents were giving William and I opportunities they never had. Am I really going to let a bunch of assholes destroy my dreams and theirs along with it? Through me, their dreams live on like the curled flowers of a rose bloom waiting for the perfect day to blossom.
“I’m all right, Mom.” I pull at a loose thread on my skirt until it is drawn taught. I pull harder, and it snaps. “Really, I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll let you know if I need anything. I swear.”
“Okay, honey,” she says, sounding relieved. “Your dad had to go out of town for work, but he wanted me to let you know he loves you and will call tomorrow.”
I want to say something about how he doesn’t need to work anymore, how he could just ask his parents for the money to never work again, but I don’t. My dad loves his job and takes pride in it. I shouldn’t fault him for that.
“Okay,” I say. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Take care. Call if you need anything.”
I hang up first, just after she says goodbye.
I am sitting at my desk, feeling sorry for myself, when Molly opens the door. I expect her to look exhausted or like she’s been crying, but instead, she’s smiling.
“Hey.” She gives me a little wave before shrugging her backpack off and letting it fall to the floor.
“Hey,” I say.
“I, um, never really thanked you, you know?” Molly inspects the comforter on her bed before turning toward me. “It’s been a long time since anyone stood up for me. I think Raven would, you know, except Aurora might try to kill her while she’s asleep or something.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I can’t imagine having to live with that. No worries though.” I shrug. “Bullies suck.”
“You have any plans this weekend?” she asks.
I laugh because the idea of me having weekend plans is actually crazy. We are both social pariahs.
“No.” I clear my throat. “No plans.”
“Want to hang out?”
“Yeah,” I say, “that would be nice. Is there like a mall around here or something?”
Molly laughs. “I wish. Voclain was built in the middle of nowhere. There’s a killer cafe about an hour north though. I think my parents and Atticus are going to come visit tomorrow. We always meet there.”
I frown. “I don’t want to intrude.”
She waves a hand. “Please. My parents would love to see me with a friend, and Attie loves to meet new people. He’s just discovered crayons though, so be prepared to be colored on.”
“All right,” I agree with a laugh. “I’d love to, Molly.”
“Cool,” she nods like it’s not a big deal, but as she sits down on her bed and opens up her laptop, she smiles like she just won the lottery.
8
Harlow
Sometimes I dream about him. He looked so much like me, both of us with white-blonde hair and blue eyes. He was always the funny one, the class-clown who lived life with a permanent smile on his face and a joke on his tongue. It was always harder for me to make friends, and maybe that’s what saved me in the end.
When Granddad and Grandma won all that money, my friends weren’t like his. Mine didn’t ask me for cash or to cover the check. But William’s friends did, and he ate up the attention, handing out twenties like they were candy and it was Halloween. The day after the news broadcast my grandparents on television, William bought a pizza party for the entire school, much to the chagrin of my parents.
He comes to me in my dreams, smiling. The sunlight transforms his hair into a halo of blonde curls, and he waves to me.
We are at the park we loved as kids, and I want to run to him and hug him and tell him to come home, only when I try to, I can’t.
My feet are welded to the ground. I look down at my scuffed-up black converse and blue jeans. Everything seems normal.
My gaze flicks up to find William, and he’s still there, smiling at me and waving. A blue-jay chirps as it flies overhead. I hear the laughter of children playing nearby.
“William!” I yell, beckoning him over.
He cups his hands around his mouth to shout at me. Whispers of my name reach me like faded echos in a cavern. I try to move toward him again, but my feet won’t budge. I try harder, pulling at my leg with both hands, but I am stuck, my feet immersed in invisible concrete.
Panic claws inside my throat, threatening to choke me. I need to move. I need to see him, to hug him, to tell him I love him. But the harder I try, the heavier my feet become until it’s like I’m spinning in a Tilt-a-Whirl at the fair so that when I lift my head, I’m dizzy and can’t breathe.
Angry tears spill from my eyes and run down my cheeks. With a shaky breath, I reach into a jean pocket and pull out my medication. My hands tremble as the darkness drowns me from the inside out.
I am going to die.
I am going to die!
I AM...
I spill my medication, and the small round pills scatter, lost to the blades of grass at my feet.
“Fuck!” I curse, but no sound escapes my mouth.
The noose around my neck cinches tighter. I claw at my neck, my gaze locked on my brother smiling and waving at me as I fall to the ground, my knees buckling to the warm, hard earth.
Darkness overtakes me.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t scream for help.
I awake,
