And I could.
I fell to my knees, which was the easiest thing I’d done so far. And I pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk. I felt my breath slowing, slowing, even though it should’ve been speeding up from the adrenaline. Look, I willed her.
And she did. She looked down, and she looked at me, and I saw her throat move as she swallowed. Then she looked at the door again. Back to me. The door. And I heard her name, sounding far, far away.
Take the . . . I started to think.
And I was gone.
Kind of.
But I had this hazy vision of a shadow looking down at me, head cocked to the side. And I heard voices. Whispers. Like static moving through my brain.
I woke up to my alarm. In my bed. I shook my head, trying to judge what was real and what wasn’t. The room looked untouched. I was on my back, sheets pulled up to my neck. I turned off the alarm and tested the door. Locked.
I took a deep breath. A dream. Just a dream.
I got my shower caddy together and grabbed my bathrobe. And then, just to be sure, I pulled open the bottom drawer to my desk.
The knife was gone.
Chapter 13
Somebody took my knife. Not exactly something I could report. I pulled the brush through my hair, tearing at the knots. Tearing even after there were no knots left. Last night had happened. It had really happened. And something else had happened, between the time I opened the desk drawer and made it to my bed. But I couldn’t remember.
I closed my eyes and ran through the events again and again: the knocking, Bree, the knife. I dropped the brush. Oh God, Bree. Had she taken it? Had she used it?
I ran out into the hall, toward her room. Bree was there. In the hall. Walking from the bathroom, in her robe, toward her room. Taryn moved in the opposite direction with a shower caddy in her hand. Neither looked up at me, though they must’ve noticed me, standing, staring, in the middle of the hall.
It happened and the knife was gone and Bree was fine. But now she wouldn’t look at me.
A new feeling settled in my stomach. Fear. She must’ve reported me. Ran to Ms. Perkins, showing her the knife. Maybe the campus police were on their way. Or Dad, with his disapproving look, or Mom, with no look, really, at all. On their way to retrieve me because I wasn’t welcome here any longer.
Except no one came. I got ready for class, like normal, and everyone acted like they normally acted around me now. Which was to say, they either looked too much or not at all.
But every time someone came to the classroom door, my heart leapt into my throat. Every time someone uttered a name that started with the letter M, I jumped. But the next few classes passed without incident.
At lunch, I saw Ms. Perkins in the quad. She glanced my way, just for a second, and then kept talking to the teacher next to her. I let out a long breath.
Nobody told.
But the knife was still gone.
I sat under the giant oak by myself. The ground was a little on the damp side, but the dirt up around the roots was dry. Added bonus: nobody else was out here.
Except Reid. Walking toward me, his hands deep in his pockets.
Reid skipped class. He had to, that was the only way he’d find me on my lunch period. “Mallory,” he called as I gathered up my half-eaten lunch. I didn’t have time to pack it all up and escape before he got here.
He looked at my shoulder first. Just a quick look, but I noticed, and I felt the scabs itching underneath the bandage.
Then he sat down beside me. “I’m sorry,” he said, which I hated. But then he said, “I’m sorry you’re upset. But I’m not sorry that I did it,” which I loved. “And I’m sorry the words came out wrong . . .”
“Stop apologizing,” I said.
“I like you.” The air felt too warm suddenly. Because I realized that Brian had never said those words. So ridiculous. He’d said a lot of other things, which I’d thought amounted to the same thing.
But they didn’t.
Reid kept talking. “I like you, but . . .” Ah, the famous I like you, but . . . “Does it have to be this hard?”
Everything’s this hard. “If this is you breaking up with me, save it. You have to be together before you can break up.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying . . . let’s start over. Go back. I’m the guy you used to see three times a year and now we’re here at school together. Let’s go back.”
Go back. A do-over. Like this was all a game. Like what you do doesn’t count unless you want it to.
“Say yes,” he said.
Reid of all people should know you can’t go back. Can’t start over. Can’t call redo and play a better hand. But here he was, pretending we could. If you pretend something hard enough, could it become real?
I shifted so I was facing him, raised myself up on my knees. He pulled me closer, his arms around my back, and I rested my forehead against his chest. My hands gripped his shirt, like I was begging for something. Like I was kneeling at some altar. Like this whole thing was some kind of prayer.
That night, there was a shadow under my door. Just standing there. Waiting. Every few seconds it shifted a little. Then it went away. And then it came back. It was after lights out, but I hadn’t taken the sleeping pill yet. I slowly eased the top drawer of my desk open and slid the scissors into the waistband of my pajama pants. And then I walked very cautiously, so I wouldn’t cut myself.
I cracked the door, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw Bree, with her eyes wide, like she’d been caught in my headlights. “What is it?” I asked.
“Sorry. I was about to knock.”
“Um, about last night,” I said.
“Oh God, I’m mortified,” Bree said, throwing her hands into the air. Then she smiled, looking past me. “I mean, seriously. You must’ve thought I was crazy.”
“I thought you were scared. But I’d taken a sleeping pill. And . . .”
“Right. You told me.”
“What were you running from?”
“Oh. Nothing, really. It’s just, I can’t sleep. And Taryn snores. I know you wouldn’t guess it by looking at her, but she does. And I’m having, like, nightmares or something. Except without really sleeping. Weird, huh?”
“Weird,” I said. “So about the, uh . . .”
But Bree just stared at me, her head cocked to the side. Like she wasn’t about to acknowledge what she and I both knew I’d showed her. “About the what?”
“The sleeping pill. I don’t know if I said something, maybe? Or did something? I wasn’t really thinking straight.”
Bree was looking over my shoulder, into the room, and I realized I was holding my breath. And then I realized why. I was hoping she’d ask to move back in. Pathetic.
“Well, that’s kind of why I’m here,” Bree said, still looking into the room. “I was wondering if you could spare one.”
I tried to look into her eyes, but she looked unfocused. Tired, I guessed. Was this the start of friendship? Or the restart? Maybe like Reid said, we could have do-overs. I didn’t know. But I also didn’t know what harm a single sleeping pill could do. So I went to the drawer and pulled out the vial, and all the while Bree stayed in the door frame, with her eyes too wide, watching.
She held out her palm, and I could see her veins running through it. I could see this faint tremor, too, like I saw under the window the other day. She really did need sleep. She needed my help. I tapped the lip of the vial on her open palm, and a single pill settled into the crease of her hand.
She closed her fist around it. “Okay,” she whispered, backing away.