His gaze slips away. “I’m asking you.”
There’s something about the way he won’t meet my eyes. Why, out of all the leads he could be chasing, all the people he could be talking to—men who were actually close to Fred—is Sheriff Theriot talking to me?
“I’m sorry, Sheriff.” I speak as calmly as I can. “I can’t recall anything out of the ordinary.”
“Ruth, I need you to think real hard.” He folds his arms over his chest and frowns. “Are you sure you can’t think of anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt Fred? Anyone who bore him ill will? Not a single person? Let me remind you, now is not the time to protect anyone.”
“No, sir,” I say smoothly, and this time it isn’t a lie.
I don’t know a single person. I know so many.
11
JUNE, EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD
It was the brightest, clearest day of summer—so naturally, Everett and I were spending it reading.
“Pass the lemonade?” he asked without taking his eyes off his book. He lay splayed next to me on the dock in red swim trunks and a faded T-shirt, one arm behind his head. He was reading a book of poems by Frank O’Hara, who Ever said was cool, ironic, and playful, attributes that were hard to come by around here. There was nothing Ever liked better than poetry. I brought him volume after volume from the library, but couldn’t keep up with his appetite.
The sun was high in the sky, baking us both. Sweat had gathered in small lakes under my knees, and I could see small drops glistening on Ever’s forehead. The air was thick with brine from the gulf water. This was our favorite spot to sunbathe: an old, abandoned dock in an inlet that rarely saw visitors, far from Main Street and the bustling docks of the Fortenot Fishing Company.
I was lush and spoiled off a full year of Everett’s friendship. We were together through all seasons, but at our best in summer, our most alive when spring growth turned overripe, dizzy and fecund; when the air burst with so much hot, sticky life that you knew it was unsustainable,and fall would have to come and temper it soon. But for now, the days were long, sunlight bleeding into late hours, and when it finally vanished, we had our new world in the dark.
I rolled my eyes at Everett’s request even as I set down my book and leaned to pick up the jug of lemonade from my house. The ice-cold condensation spilled down the sides and dripped onto my dress, the coolness a relief against my toasted skin. “Suddenly you’re not capable of walking three feet?”
Ever shrugged. “You’re closer.” He took the jug with both hands and tipped his head back, pouring lemonade straight into his mouth.
For a moment I was arrested by the sight of his Adam’s apple moving in his throat, his pale skin somehow unaffected by the sun. The way the curve of his neck swooped into his shoulders, which were broader this year, and his biceps, more pronounced. Then I shook myself and smacked him on the arm. “Animal. You’re not supposed to drink straight from the jug.”
He set it down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How else am I supposed to drink it?”
I twisted to the plastic cups I’d stolen from my parents’ kitchen and thrust one at him. “With these.”
“Oh. Oops.” Ever’s grin, if anything, grew brighter. “What’s this about, anyway?” He grabbed for the book I was reading but I was faster, snatching it away.
He cocked his head. “Leviathanby Thomas Hobbes?”
“It’s famous. They’re reading it in Intro to Political Philosophy at LSU. I looked it up on the computer at the library.”
He scratched his head. “You do remember we graduated last year, right? There’s no need to assign yourself homework.”
I stretched out on my side, facing him. “Actually, I had an idea. Since I can’t go to college, I’m bringing college to me. Classes are mostly reading,right? Well, I have a whole library full of books. All I have to do is look up the syllabi and read along. I’m calling it my independent study.” I beamed at him.
He gave me a doubtful look.
“It’ll work. Watch.” I openedLeviathan. “Hobbes says humans are selfish brutes by nature. Back in the day, when we didn’t want people to keep going around killing each other, we had to agree to certain rules. That’s why we have kings. We agree to obey the king’s rules, and in return he protects us. It’s called a social contract. Any thoughts?”
Ever didn’t say anything. He just kept looking at me in that disapproving way. I shielded my eyes against the sun. “What? I need a political science credit for my English degree.”
“You should’ve left when we graduated and never looked back.”
I flinched. When he’d said this to me a year ago, it had been a balm. Now it stung. “You know that wasn’t an option.” I nudged him with my toe. “Besides, look at us. I’m working at the library and can read whatever I want, and you’re going to have enough money from the garage to get your own place soon. No more torture at Sacred Surrender.” My parents had even stopped trying to punish me for being friends with Everett—satisfied, I guessed, with the bigger win of keeping me home.
I threw my arms out at the clear sky and the blue-green gulf. “I know this isn’t what we always hoped for, but it’s not bad, right? Couldn’t you be happy?”
One day, as soon as he saved enough money, Ever wouldn’t need his father or the garage. And despite our vows to never abandon each other, I was afraid the pull of freedom would be too strong to resist. Ever looked at me a beat too long; my stomach dropped. Then he said softly, “I could.”
“Good.” I swallowed my relief. His eyes shifted over my shoulder and he lunged around me before I had time to react.
