When I follow her through to the kitchen, she’s going through the cupboards, noting things down on a list.
“Wow. Your handwriting’s atrocious.”
“So’s your hospitality,” she snaps back. “At least I have an excuse.”
I tease her for a while longer, then make her a coffee exactly the way she demands it. While she sits, drinking it, a shadow passes over her face and it’s hard to watch. I want to take whatever thoughts are haunting her and pummel them into dust.
“Who pays for all this?” Em’s eyes dart around the room, landing on the list propped against the toaster. “Should I give—”
“It’s sorted. The house is payment for jobs rendered and I can afford groceries.”
Her nod dissolves into her hanging her head, staring through dazed eyes at the floor. When I touch her shoulder, she startles in slow motion, the recoil and recovery playing out over seconds instead of an instant. “Could I borrow your phone?”
“What for?”
“There’s money in my account that—”
“I told you. Everything’s sorted.”
“I want to move it to where Mum has access to it. So, it doesn’t get caught up in…” The casual wave of her hand is at odds with the intentions of her sentence.
In probate? That’s what she’s trying to say.The despair comes back, angling into my guts, bending me forward with the severity, until I have to grab hold of her knee to remind myself she’s here. She’s still here. I can still save her.
Except I can’t do that until I understand everything that’s wrong and Em’s behaviour suggests I only get the half of it.
“Tell me why and I’ll let you borrow it.”
Her expression immediately turns cagey. “Why what?”
I let go of her leg and upgrade to clutching her hands tightly between mine. Not wanting to let her go. “Tell me why you want to die, Em.”
When she tries to duck, I catch her chin with my thumb, tilting it so she can’t. “Talk to me.”
Her eyes glitter and I move closer, angling my head to hear better in case she whispers. My head comes within a centimetre of hers before she answers, “Because someone put a rubber spider in my locker.”
“So, nothing to do with videos. Nothing to do with Will Braxen. Nothing to do with Hadyn Warley’s dad.”
“I don’t even know who that last person is.”
“He’s the man whose car you attacked.” She looks puzzled, then relieved, the expressions ticking over so quickly it’s hard to catch before they revert to her hard stare. “You would’ve met him if you stuck around after your breakdown. Who’d you think he was when you banged up his vehicle?”
She shakes her head, but I clamp my fingers harder on her jaw.
“He shouldn’t be outside the school since he’s involved in a custody dispute over access, but why doyoucare about him?”
“I don’t. I just told you—”
“You tried to kick out his windshield. You were screaming at him. Sorry if I think that’s an indicator you were agitated.”
She clamps her lips hard enough together they turn pale.
“Em, I have nothing else going on in my life. If I have to sit here with you for the next month to get a straight answer, I’m happy to—”
“I thought he was following me,” she blurts. “I saw him everywhere. He—” She breaks off, swallowing, then wincing at the resulting pain.
I leave her for a second and duck into the bathroom, returning with a small bottle. “Open your mouth. This is a numbing spray. It’ll help.”
She rolls her eyes but follows the instruction. Once I pump a few squirts inside, she screws up her face. “Ugh.”
