I sit in the darkness, the pink canopy hanging overhead. There’s a tap at the window. I walk to the glass and see a tuft of white-blond hair peeking over the sill as Rosie stands, perfectly balanced, on the limb of the tree outside.
“Grace!” she calls softly through the glass. “Let me in.”
She smiles. Her eyes shine in the moonlight, and in the darkness, my reflection blends into her image. I’m twelve years old again, climbing trees and chasing after the big kids.
I am about to get hurt.
“Grace.” Rosie taps against the glass again. “Come on.”
I reach for the window and smile down at her.
“Be careful out there, Rosie,” I say and draw the blinds.
“Good morning, Grace,” Dr. Rainier says two days later. She’s French and very thin. She wears black cigarette pants and a white linen tunic, and she’s so pretty it almost hurts to look at her. It’s like getting your head shrunk by Audrey Hepburn.
“How are you today?” she asks.
I don’t answer.
I’m not staging a rebellion here. This isn’t a silent protest. I stay quiet because I don’t want to break down, and I learned a long time ago that, sometimes, the only way to silence the cries is by making no sound at all. So I shrug and bite my lip. I do not utter a single word.
“Do you know why you’re here?” she asks. I nod because I do know. I’m here because thirty-six hours ago I humiliated my grandfather and jumped from a balcony. I’m here because, for once, I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.
Not even me.
“Good,” she goes on. “I’ve had an opportunity to talk to some of the physicians you saw in the States. They all told me to tell you hello. Everyone likes you, Grace. Everyone wants you to get well.”
I shrug, but still I don’t say a thing. Even if she’s not lying, I know she can’t possibly be right.
R U OK?
I look down at the text from Jamie. I haven’t taken any of his calls. He’s no doubt talked to Alexei by now. And Grandpa. He’ll be worried, but I don’t want to lie to him, and I don’t want to tell him the truth, so I don’t say anything at all. At least Dad is on a mission and out of reach. I don’t think I could handle him storming the embassy and taking me home. Wherever that is.
I turn my phone off and place it on the table by the bed. For once, the embassy is silent. It’s the last day of the G-20 summit and everyone is too busy to worry about me.
Well, almost everyone.
When Noah appears in my room it is with a great deal of fanfare. He doesn’t just walk in. He has to grab the doorframe and practically whip himself inside — like some kind of self-contained slingshot.
“Hello, stranger. How have you been?” he asks, but he doesn’t hold my gaze when he says it. It’s not like he’s actually looking for an answer. He’s the one person smart enough to know that I’m not going to give one.
“So … the G-20 is wrapping up tonight, and Lila is throwing a shindig on the cliffs to watch the fireworks, so I thought that we could —”
“What are you doing here, Noah?”
“I came to see my best friend. I came to tell her that I’m sorry for being a … whatever I was being. I’m here because we miss you.”
“We?”
“Hi,” Megan says from the doorway. She doesn’t have Noah’s natural bravado, his swagger, or his charm. She also isn’t as good at pretending that I’m okay. Maybe that’s because she isn’t even trying. “How are you?”
“Crazy. Haven’t you heard?”
“Grace …” Megan’s voice is low. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” I tell her.
“Grace,” Noah says, desperate. “Talk to us.”
“I think you’d better leave.”
“You look different,” Megan says.
“The medicine.” I shake my head too quickly, blink my eyes too hard. When I rock back and forth, I no longer feel it. I can only see it in the reflection in my mother’s mirror, my body like a pendulum that can never quite stop moving. “I don’t eat much when I take it. It makes me …”
My hands shake. The light is too bright. Their voices are too loud. I want to turn everything down, dim the world until it is barely there at all. But I can’t because they won’t get out of my room.
“Maybe you should stop taking it.” Megan’s voice is harder. She’s challenging authority, and I instantly regret letting her become my friend. It’s maybe the worst thing I could have done to her.
“I can’t,” I say. “I have to get better.”
“This is what better looks like?” Noah doesn’t even try to hide the shock in his voice, and I can’t blame him. I’ve gotten good at hiding the truth. Even from myself. It’s not his fault he got to know the lie first.
“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” I say too quickly. “I just didn’t like the idea of one more person knowing the truth.” Noah doesn’t say anything, so I lower my gaze. I’m pretty sure I rock harder. “I’m sorry I’m crazy.”
“Grace —”
“I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I’m sorry you got sucked into this. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore.”
“You weren’t bothering us!” Noah sounds offended.
“You should go,” I tell them again.
“Yes, I am going to go. I’m going to get my best friend to leave her tower for the night. We’re going to watch the fireworks and get something to eat — not necessarily in that order. I was thinking crepes.” Noah gives a dramatic nod. “I mean we can do whatever you want, but there’s this place I know that makes Nutella crepes and, let’s just say, world peace has frequently depended upon them.”
It’s a beautiful day and he glances outside. “Come on, let’s go sit on the wall and make fun of Lila. Let’s go to the carousel. You’ve got to get out of here.”
I have to get better.
I have to move on.
I have to make amends for my mistakes.
I have to keep Megan, Noah, Rosie, and Alexei from doing anything else that’s stupid.
I have to keep my friends away from me.
“Come on,” he tells me. “You have to eat.”
“No!” I think I might be shouting. I think I might be crying. But the tears don’t actually fall. I don’t know what’s real and what is fake anymore. I can’t even trust my own eyes. “I don’t have to do anything!”
“Yes.” Noah grips my arms, holding me still. “You do. You’ve got to get out of this room. You’ve got to live.”
“Don’t you get it, Noah? You were right. There’s a reason why I’m the only one who ever hears the Scarred Man make a threat in the forest. Or am I the Girl Who Cried Scarred Man?” I let out a nervous laugh. “I can’t decide which cliché suits me better. Which one do you like? I can’t decide which one I like.”
I watch Megan look at Noah. There is something between them that wasn’t there a moment before, an unspoken question. But I can’t think about that.
“I was wrong,” I say. My voice breaks. “My mother’s death was an accident.”
I turn to the window and look out at the big tree, but for once I don’t have the urge to climb it — to run away. If anything, I wish the Secret Service would come and cut it down.
“Grace,” Megan starts slowly, “you know how we still have cameras and stuff in the Scarred Man’s house?”
I repeat Ms. Chancellor’s words. “His name is Dominic. He’s just a man with a scar.”
“Yeah, Dominic’s house,” Megan talks on, waving my words away. “Well, I called up the feeds last night just because.”