“She’s a lady dirtbag,” Ripper quips, to some laughs.
Liv leans over. “Is Hannah okay?” she whispers. “Like, in general?”
I cross my arms and press my lips in a tight line. “That’s not my place to talk about.”
“Right. Of course.” She gives me a strange look.
Jimmy leans in closer. “The thing about your new music that resonates the most with me is the way it captures the fury and helplessness of grief. As the audience might know, you lost your sister almost a year ago. I’m very sorry for your loss, first of all. Are these new songs your way of processing? Do you think it’s possible to heal yourself through art?”
My heart leaps into my throat. He can’t ask her that. It’s too personal.
Hannah looks down at her combat boots. When she finally speaks, she does it slowly. “Yes, our new music is about my sister. But I’m not trying to process her loss. That implies I’m trying to move on from it, and I’m not. I know people assume the songs are meant to be cathartic, but I’m not trying to work through the pain. I’m trying to live inside it. Keep these feelings alive so she never fades.” She presses a hand to her heart. “Honestly, if I thought the songs were helping me get over her, I’d stop making them.”
“Do you think that’s healthy?” Jimmy asks gently. He’s looking at her like he’s forgotten all of us are watching.
“With all due respect, being healthy isn’t at the top of my priority list. Wouldn’t you do anything to keep the people you love, Jimmy?”
Kenny, Ripper, the show’s crew, the audience—everyone goes silent. Jimmy leans forward and blinks for a moment. “Yes,” he says honestly. “I suppose I would’ve done anything to keep close to the people I’ve lost. I just didn’t have your way with words. Or your singing voice.” There’s the lightest chuckle from the audience. “Thank you for wearing your heart on your sleeve for the rest of us.” As the audience claps, he turns to the cameras, his face uncharacteristically somber. “This isJimmy Kimmel Live!, and we’ll be right back with Jacob Elordi and Garrett Billings.” The lights on the cameras go out and the crew jumps onstage.
“See?” Liv says, hands on her hips. “Hannah’s answer was great, nothing to worry about. They’re definitely going to run that clip in the promos.” She glances at me.
I’m trying to get my breathing under control. Trying to take deep inhales like Kenny taught me. But I can’t stop pulling at my shirt. I need it to be looser, need the hot lump in my throat to go away. It worked out. They’re okay. She got through it.
Liv’s eyes soften. When she speaks, her voice is knowing. “Oh.Now I get it. That’s dangerous, Theo. Very dangerous.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, but I turn so she can’t see my face.
Chapter 24
Hannah
Wednesday, May 15, 2024
Paddle faster,” Ginny shouts. “You’re going to lose it!”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” I yell. I glance over my shoulder to where she’s standing in knee-deep water, assuring myself she’s safe, then turn back to the horizon. The wave swelling ahead of meisperfect, but if I don’t catch it at the right moment, I’ll close out my first session back in the water in nearly a year with a whimper. The problem is, after two straight hours of trying and failing to get up the nerve, my body’s drained.
I dig past the exhaustion and force my arms to cut through the water, breathing hard, and—now. I paddle away from the wave as fast as I can, adrenaline surging as it crests behind me, both a threat and a wonder. It lifts my board, carrying me with a sublime force, like God himself reaching down and scooping me up. I push myself to my feet and adjust my toes, and the minute I’m balanced, the board and I slice through the water. The wave barrels around me and I throw out my arms as wide as I dare, feeling the salty ocean spray whip my cheeks, feeling the sun, high and hot in the jewel-blue sky, kiss my forehead.
Ginny whoops, and suddenly all I can picture is that day: Ginny gliding across the water just like this. Falling, hitting her head on the board, getting pulled under by the tide.
I jerk and tumble off my board into the waves. When I surface, spitting out salt water, she’s floating on her back beside me.
“You got close. Next time you’ll make it to shore.”
I tug my board to my side using the ankle strap, then join Ginny floating on my back. I watch the fluffy condensation inch across the sky. “Hey, Gin, what was it like?”
She bobs in the water. “To drown?”
“I’ve imagined it a thousand times.”
“I’m surprised you’ve never asked before. I like to think that when I hit my head, I stopped being conscious. So the rest didn’t hurt. It was like going to sleep in the waves.”
My eyes hunt past the clouds, into the deeper blue. “Maybe the last thing you saw was the sky.”
“That would’ve been nice,” she agrees. “I did always look up when I surfed. Remember how you used to yell at me to keep my eyes on the waves?”
I nod. “Do you think you’re up there now, looking down at me?” Then I shake my head, make a scoffing sound. “That’s a stupid question.”
