I give him a duh look.
“Okay, maybe I didn’t know you, but you never let me. Or anyone, other than Jackson.”
“Look at me, Colter. Why would anyone want to be near me, why would they want to see me? I’m a mess. I’m a loser. I’m the girl who killed her sister.”
He looks at me and it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes crease sympathetically. “Everyone knows that was an accident. I believe it was an accident.” He moves forward and before I can think of anything else to say, he reaches for my hand. Needles. It feels like needles are coming out of his fingers, piercing my skin. His skin is on fire.
I slip away from his grip. “It doesn’t matter what you think. It won’t change anything.”
He stares at me for what seems like hours, then drops his hands and sighs. “You have to tell someone, Ellery,” he says, with his serious security-guard tone.
“It’s not that serious.”
He laughs, but it’s an annoyed, exasperated kind. “I’d say almost doing it is pretty serious. I didn’t turn you in about the gun, but . . . .”
I grab his hands and clutch them tight, my skin igniting with his. “Please don’t say anything to anyone.”
“Ellery.”
“They’d lock me up in a hospital. I can’t be locked up.” I backtrack. I have to lie. “The gun didn’t break when I tried to do it, okay? I was testing it out. I . . . wasn’t even that close to doing it.” I paste a fake nonchalant expression on my face. “Really. It’s no big deal. I’ve just been kind of depressed.”
“You bought a gun, though.”
“I know. It was so stupid of me. I regretted it immediately and then thought maybe I could just learn to shoot it with Jackson instead. He loves guns and shooting things.” I shrug.
“Have you changed your mind then?” he asks, his voice relieved, but still suspicious.
There’s this point in a conversation that you have a decision to make. You can either follow it down the rabbit hole, or stay on the surface and face reality. I prefer the rabbit hole. It’s really dark and easy to hide in. “Yeah, of course,” I lie.
He smiles, but his eyes are still suspicious of me. I’m not sure if my lie worked. I smile back.
“I’ll get you home. Come on.”
I walk past him and get in the car. He’s not the type of guy that would let me go where I need to go right now. “Can you drop me off somewhere?” I ask when we get settled in the car.
He nods.
13
The air is cool and clouds have overtaken the sky, blocking out the stars and leaving a gray hue behind. I hated lying to Colter about where I was going, but I got the feeling he wouldn’t have left me alone in a cemetery.
He’s going to be a problem.
The carving on Tate’s headstone glints in what’s left of the moonlight. It’s really not that different from the other graves here, except for the carving of a teddy bear in the upper right-hand corner. Mom thought we should have something on it to show she was a little girl. I would have picked a carving of the moon or the stars. They were her favorite. Her teddy bear sat in the corner of her room collecting dust most of her life. The inscription gives away that she was young anyway. Here lies Tatiana Stevens, beloved daughter and sister. Our precious girl who was taken too soon. May she be with God for eternity. The carved letters blur, transforming into muddled shapes. I look away and stare up at the sky, trying to make constellations out of the stars left.
I remember hearing somewhere that the day before your life changes is just like any other day. It was so . . . normal the day before Tate died. We went to Tasty’s and got ice cream. It was so cold inside. I remember shivering as Dean handed me my cup.
? ? ?
Tate grabs her cone of Mint Chocolate-Chip and squeals so loud the birthday party of seven-year-olds in the corner look up from their sundaes.
“It’s just ice cream, Tate,” I say, handing her a napkin. “You act like we never get it. We were just here three days ago.”
“I know. I just like embarrassing you.” She grins like someone who just won a competition.
I grab her arms and start tickling her as we walk to our seats. She almost drops her cone and glares at me with a smile on her face.
“You’re too smart. I know you didn’t get that from Mom and Dad. Are you sure you’re not an alien? That would explain your love of the stars.”
She licks her cone and shrugs.
“You were born on the moon, weren’t you?” I add.
“Am I green like an alien, Sissy?” she says, her tone matter-of-fact, like how dare I suggest she’s from another planet. She peeks at me from the side of the bright green scoop, ice cream on the sides of her mouth.
“Well, you do have green on the side of your mouth.”