Deadline

She stared for a moment before letting her chin drop and saying, “Oh, my God. You really had no idea.”

 

 

I was starting to get concerned. Apologizing for something I knew I’d done was one thing—I may not have much experience with girls, but I’m smart enough to know that calling them by somebody else’s name is never a good thing, especially when that somebody else is dead and also technically my sister. Apologizing for something I didn’t know I’d done was a bit more of a problem, if only because I couldn’t be sure I was doing it right. “Uh, Becks, I’m sorry, but you’re kinda losing me here. I’m happy to keep apologizing, but I do need to know what I’m apologizing for.”

 

This time her laughter was bright and brittle, like broken glass glinting in the sunlight. “I’ve been throwing myself at you for months, Shaun. The flirting, the frilly tops, the requests for hands-on review of my reports—I mean, what the hell did you think I was doing?”

 

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I figured you just wanted to make sure your facts were solid before you posted, and all that frilly stuff looked like a girl thing. Sort of like the way you wear your hair.”

 

“I wasn’t getting any ratings based on what I wore to work,” she said.

 

I shrugged.

 

Becks sighed. “Fine. So you wrote all that off. What about the flirting? Did you write that off as ‘a girl thing,’ too?”

 

If I was telling the truth, I might as well go for the whole truth. I was pretty sure it couldn’t get me into any more trouble than I was already in. “Until you showed up and took my towel away, I really didn’t notice.”

 

“If Dave weren’t dead, I’d owe him ten bucks.” Becks looked away from me, staring out at the forest past the fence. It looked completely untamed; Maggie’s security precautions were very well concealed. “He said you didn’t get it. I thought you were playing hard to get.”

 

“That’s what Alaric said, too. I’m really sorry. I never did the whole flirting thing.”

 

“No, I guess you didn’t, did you?” She slanted a sidelong glance my way, considering me. “You didn’t need to.”

 

I thought about lying to her. After everything else, there didn’t seem to be any point. “No, I guess I didn’t.”

 

She nodded, once, mouth twisting in that too-damn-familiar way before she went back to looking at the forest. I hated that look. I’d hated it on every face that I’d ever seen wearing it. The one that said, clearly, “But she’s your sister,” and ignored the part where she was also the only person who’d ever really given a damn what I thought. About anything.

 

Finally, in a soft, almost contemplative tone, Becks said, “I guess I sort of knew, deep down. Maybe that’s why you were so safe to chase. I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance to catch you.”

 

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I settled for what seemed like the safest of my available options. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I am, too, Shaun. Believe me, I am too. I… I know we can’t exactly go back to the way things were. That’s my fault as much as it is yours, I guess. I just don’t know…”

 

“How we’re supposed to go on from here?” I ventured. She nodded. I bit back the urge to laugh, mostly because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop again. “Dude, Becks, I’ve been asking myself that question pretty much every day since George died.”

 

“Have you figured out the answer yet?”

 

“There isn’t one.” I slumped against the back of the bench, tilting my head back until I couldn’t see anything but sky, going on for what might as well have been forever. “I figure I’ll just keep on going the way I am until something starts making sense.”

 

“What if nothing ever does?”

 

“I guess if that happens, I’ll start hoping all the God freaks are right, and there’s some superior intelligence up there treating us all like laboratory rats.”

 

Fabric rustled against wood as Becks turned to peer at me. I couldn’t see her, but I knew her well enough to know exactly what her expression looked like: confusion mixed with wary suspicion that whatever I said next was going to be so completely off the wall that she couldn’t stand to hear it. Finally, she said, “Why are you going to start looking for God?”

 

“I didn’t say I was going to start looking. If there’s a God, there are plenty of people who know where he is.” I shrugged, still watching the sky. It was easier than watching Becks. “I just want to know that he’s there, so that I can die knowing there’s going to be someone I can punch in the mouth on the other end.”

 

Becks laughed. Some of the tension in my shoulders slipped away. I’d done a terrible thing to her, but I didn’t mean to, and the tone of her laughter told me that maybe—despite everything—we could manage to be okay again. She was right; we’d never be exactly the same kind of okay that we were before. But we’d be more okay, and that was better than nothing.

 

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