Dad gives me a timid smile as I sit down, but I don’t return it. Ever since overhearing his conversation with Mom, I can barely bring myself to look at him. He doesn’t want me here. He wishes I’d stayed where I was.
“How was school today, Dara?” Mom asks cheerfully as she butters a roll.
I poke at my stew and think about what I could say—that people still look at me like I’m dangerous and most of my old friends ignore me and I’m anxious every time I open my locker that there’s going to be another drawing in there, even though it only happened the one time. But I’ve put them through enough already, so I say, “Fine.”
Mom nods like I said something interesting and turns to Tobias. “How was your day, bud?”
Tobias grins, revealing his oversized front teeth, and launches into a story about his teacher, Mr. Kline, who apparently has a black belt in karate, and how he showed the class—after lots and lots of begging—a few of his favorite moves. As he recounts the incident, complete with extensive hand gestures, I can’t help but smile. Missing my little brother definitely played a part in my decision to come home. Now that I’m back, though, I can see it’s going to take a long time for him to warm up to me, if he ever does. He’s wary of me now. I can tell he thought going away would fix me, turn me back into the sister who played with him like she wasn’t afraid of hurting him somehow. He seems disappointed that it hasn’t.
The minute dinner is over, I go back upstairs, open “RIP Aubrey McCrae,” and pick up where I left off.
I have a couple of classes with Paige, but she’s been avoiding me since my return, practically sprinting in the other direction if I so much as look at her. So I have no idea what to expect the next day when I happen upon her in the stairwell on my way to the cafeteria.
She’s climbing up the same stairs I’m about to go down. I see her at the same moment she sees me, and we both pause on the steps. Panic flashes in her eyes as we stare at each other. What is she afraid of? Me? Talking to me? Being seen with me? Whatever it is, finding herself alone with me in an empty stairwell is obviously freaking her out.
“Paige,” I say. Nothing else comes after it, but it doesn’t matter, because she doesn’t seem to be listening anyway. She drops her gaze and starts moving again. “Paige, please,” I try again as she gets closer. “Can we just talk for a—”
“No.” She pauses next to me on the top step and raises her chin. The panic in her features has morphed into a dull anger. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Wait,” I beg as she brushes past me. I want to follow her and grab her arm, but I don’t. I stay planted on the stairs and address my next words to her back. “Paige, come on. We’ve been friends forever. We used to be close, remember?”
She stops on the landing and spins around to face me, her eyes wild and glassy. “Close? Yeah, we were such close friends, Dara. So close you didn’t confide in me once during the whole Justin drama sophomore year. No, I had to hear about it through gossip after the fact. So close you didn’t even bother to tell me you weren’t coming back to school last year. I heard that secondhand too.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Not to mention all the texts I sent you after Aubrey died that you ignored,” she continues like I haven’t spoken. “So don’t even try to pretend like we were the best of friends. That stopped when Aubrey came into the picture. She was your number one from that moment on and you know it.”
I climb the last step and move closer so I can tell her how sorry I am for not confiding in her like I should have. And that I didn’t mean to put Aubrey before her. And that I ignored all my friends’ texts and calls after Aubrey died because I wanted to forget everything about Hyde Creek, even them. But before I can say any of it, the door to the stairwell opens and Travis appears.
For a moment he takes in the scene, his gaze bouncing from me to his girlfriend’s red, puffy face. He reaches us in one long step and takes Paige’s hand, ushering her away from me.
“Travis,” I say. My throat is so tight, his name comes out sounding strangled. We lock eyes, and my stomach jolts when I see the fiery anger in his.
“Don’t talk to me,” he says in a low, even voice. “Don’t talk to either of us.”
My mind scrambles for a response, but nothing comes. I doubt there’s anything I can say that will satisfy him, anyway. Either of them. They’re clearly done with me.
Paige tugs on Travis’s arm. “Let’s go.”
His eyes stay glued to mine. “Why did you even come back here? Like, are you a sucker for punishment or what?”
“Travis,” Paige says firmly. “Come on. It’s not worth it.”
He clamps his mouth shut and gives me one last lingering glare before letting Paige pull him through the doorway. When they’re gone, I grab onto the railing and squeeze until my fingers throb. Then I retrace my steps to the hallway.
Once I reach my locker, I’m not sure what to do next. My appetite is gone, so there’s no point in heading to the cafeteria anymore. I consider going outside to hang out behind the school, but it’s drizzling and even I’m not pathetic enough to stand all alone in the rain. That leaves the library, where I can at least sit down for a while. I start walking again.
“Dara.”
The hallway is packed with chattering groups of friends, loud and chaotic, and at first I think it’s Travis behind me, back to finish me off. I spin around, anticipating another blast of venom, and accidentally thump Ethan in the chest with my hand.
“Sorry,” I say, jerking away from him.
He moves back too, out of reach of my flailing limbs. “It’s okay.”
Horror rises in me when I mentally replay what I said. Sorry. I just apologized for smacking him, of all things. Like that’s the worst I’ve ever done. It’s so insane, so absurdly inadequate, I actually start laughing. There’s nothing joyous about it. It’s the laughter of a person who’s about ready to snap. The uncontrollable, erupting kind that usually precedes heavy sobbing and tears.
I can’t cry. I can’t. Not now.
Ethan’s watching me with a slightly worried expression, like he’s debating whether to yell for help. I take a few slow, deep breaths and squeeze my eyes shut. When I feel in control again, I open them and ask, “Was there something you wanted?”
He’s still staring at me, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack and the other suspended in the air between us, like he’s readying himself to catch me if I faint. This strikes me as funny too, that he’d even bother saving me from slamming my head off the floor, and I almost break up again. Ethan must sense it, because he shrugs and says, “Not really. You just looked upset and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Make sure I’m okay. After everything, he’s concerned about my welfare. I don’t get it. I don’t get him, and now that I have him here, in front of me, my need to understand is overshadowing everything else.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask.