I pause to glance at him. His face is tilted down and he’s staring at the space between his feet, but I can tell he’s listening carefully.
“There was this girl,” I continue. “Molly Slater. The teachers at Somerset always arranged us in alphabetical order, so she and I were always grouped together. We shared a table in bio. She was this nice, bubbly, outgoing type . . . sort of like Noelle. She was always trying to break me out of my shell, make me laugh. I was lonely, I guess, so I let my guard down after a while. I started hanging around with her and her friends, just doing stuff like going to the movies and the mall. And it was . . . nice. I felt kind of normal again. My aunt and uncle were happy. My parents were thrilled. They assumed I’d want to stay and do my senior year there too.”
Ethan nods, still with me. I wrap my arms around my knees and keep talking.
“One day last summer I was sitting in a coffee shop with Molly and a few other girls, and we were laughing about something. I don’t remember what. And all of a sudden, while I was laughing, someone walked by who wore the same perfume Aubrey used to wear. Did you know smell is the most powerful memory trigger? One second I was there, drinking iced lattes with these girls, and the next second it was like every memory I had of Aubrey went flooding into my brain all at once. And I realized I’d barely thought about her at all that day. I’d started going minutes, even hours, almost forgetting what happened. The guilt I felt over that almost knocked me over right there. How dare I forget, even for one second, what I did to her, what I did to your family . . .”
Ethan’s fingertips brush my wrist. “Dara.”
“No.” I shake him off. “Let me finish.”
He drops his hand and sighs, clearly wanting to speak but willing to let me get this out of my system first.
“I left two weeks later,” I go on, my voice quivering. “I knew I couldn’t stay there. No one knew about me at Somerset. Aubrey had never been there, so there weren’t a thousand reminders of her. You weren’t there, or your parents. I could drive through town with my aunt without worrying about driving past a spot where I’d done something horrible. Living there made it too easy to move on and I shouldn’t get to move on. If I do, it’s like I’m forgiving myself, and I can’t do that. So I came back to where I can never escape it.”
Ethan is silent for a few moments, either waiting to make sure I’m finished or arranging his own whirling thoughts. When he finally speaks, it’s with an edge of exasperation.
“You’re not the only one with guilt,” he says. “I feel it too. Even my stupid parents feel it, even though they’d never admit it. And the guy who hit her? He definitely feels it, probably even more than us. We all played a part in it. None of us can forgive ourselves. It’s not all on you.”
“But if I hadn’t pushed her, she’d still be alive.”
“If she hadn’t tripped, you mean.”
I swallow hard. “I’m the reason she tripped, Ethan.”
“Well, I convinced her to go talk to you, so I’m the reason she was there in the first place.”
“None of it would have happened if it weren’t for me.”
“It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been walking in that exact spot, right at that exact moment,” he countered. “Or if I hadn’t encouraged her to go after you. Or if the driver had been paying closer attention. There’s no point thinking about what might have been. It happened. It was a stupid, random accident, and we can’t go back and change it.”
A gust of wind slams into me, making my legs tremble. I hug them closer to my chest and peer over at Ethan. He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight and twitching. For the first time since I got back, I’ve pissed him off. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I sat down.
“I still don’t understand how you can treat me like nothing’s happened,” I say softly.
“What do you want me to do, stone you to death?” His jaw relaxes and he drops one foot to the bottom step. “I was mad at you for a while, right after it happened. Does that make you feel any better?”
It does, actually. And it explains why he didn’t contact me or answer my apology letter.
“I was mad at everyone. I got over it, though. Then I just missed you.” He gives me a sideways glance, like he can’t believe he said that out loud. “I missed both of you,” he amends quickly.
Suddenly I’m extremely aware of my body, his body, our proximity, and the strange, charged air between us. Being around him still hurts, but opening up to him about why I came back has helped a little. The more time I spend with him, the easier it gets.
If easy even exists between us anymore.
“You coming over to Hunter’s this weekend?” Ethan asks, switching topics again. His face is red and I don’t think it’s from the wind. “We’re booked to play an all-ages showcase at the community center in a few weeks and we need to start nailing down a set list.”
The thumping and squeaking noises from inside have stopped. Hunter will be out soon and Ethan will go back to his other life, where he’s the cute, guitar-playing boy who dates hot girls instead of the poor, tragic boy who lost his sister.
I grab my backpack and stand up. “Maybe,” I tell him. Even though Noelle’s invited me more than once, I haven’t gone back there since the day I witnessed Ethan making out with Lacey. Since then, every time I picture his hands on her waist, or his mouth moving against hers, I get that odd fluttering in my stomach again. Like I’m hungry or anxious, even when I’m neither. Seeing him with a girl revealed a whole new side to him that I’m not sure how to process.
“What?” Ethan says, and I realize I’m still standing in front of him, staring. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
I busy myself with my jacket zipper. “Like what?”
“Like you haven’t known me for six and a half years. Like you’re not sure who I am.”
“I’m not.” My face heats and I start edging away, toward the parking lot and the road beyond. “It’s just weird sometimes, seeing you like this. All grown up, I mean.”
“Still think of me as the annoying little brother, huh?”
No, I don’t think I do. Not anymore. “I need some time to get used to it, I guess.”
“Okay.” He flips his hood back up. “But don’t take too long.”
sixteen
Sophomore Year