But it’s not safe for her out there, even if none of us have been willing to tell her that.
A girl with pink hair who’s a known associate of Clara? The list of suspects is frighteningly small—one.
And the blackmail Trips’ dad probably got on her for saving my life is more than enough to end her future before it even starts. I looked up what happens when you practice medicine without a license, and oh man. I’ve already apologized, but it’s not enough.
If only my annoying brain functioned like it’s supposed to instead of impersonating a jungle gym: complete with ladders and slides, swings and seesaws. It probably looks more like aninja warrior course than a playground, if I’m honest. Basically, it’s a messy, disastrous place, and my stupidity dragged her into this.
My stupidity killed both her happiness and my sister’s.
Apparently, Evie’s staked out Emma’s place a few times, trying to follow her to get to me, but Emma put my ramble about how to lose a tail to the test, and so far, my sister hasn’t figured out where I am. Part of me wants to see her. The rest of me is furious about the way she acted.
I always knew she wouldn’t approve of my extracurricular activities—that’s why I never told her about them. But I didn’t figure she’d shut down when people who knew better told her that going to the hospital meant I would go straight to jail, no passing go, no collecting two hundred dollars. Or that she’d call Clara a cheater. And I never would have guessed she’d break up with Emma because of this mess.
Maybe I should have seen it, but I didn’t.
I mean, she never mentioned the groceries that magically appeared when we were kids. Or said anything about the new shoes and clothes I got her. She always pointed her anger at Austin, even as she ignored my part in all of it. But when we’d moved to the middle of nowhere, I guess she decided to reform me. She helped me get my grades up, made systems that kept me from forgetting all my homework at home or not studying until the last minute. And I appreciated it. But it didn’t make the itch under my skin go away.
I’ve never told her about the off-season cabins I’d break into, just to have something to do those few quiet years. I didn’t take anything, not unless you count the odd pencil or matchbox, but at least I’d get a bit of buzz without risking jail.Because after Austin got nabbed, the idea of jail solidified into a reality I never wanted to experience. I don’t want my family to go through that again.
Trips and Clara thought quickly and kept me from joining my cousin. But Evie, bullheaded as always, decided they chose wrong.
For the first week I was stuck here, hardly able to turn onto my side, I expected Emma to come back with a story about how Evie had sought her out and apologized. The opposite happened. Nothing but vitriol from one of the people I trust most. Trusted most.
Evie’s not wrong. The hospital would have been smarter. But with Trips’ dad watching our every move, there’s no way I would have stayed free. Even if I wasn’t in my right mind. Even if it was a first offense. Even if getting shot and almost dying should be more than enough of a consequence for trespassing.
It turns out I didn’t need the hospital anyway. I’m fine. Emma’s had more time working on living patients than somebody in veterinary school has by the time they graduate. The joys of country living, as I’ve heard her say more than once this week.
Evie doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand the stakes we’re dealing with. Each of us has a role to play, and my being at the wrong place at the wrong time totally and completely fucked it up. My being locked away would be ten times worse.
I’m not just frustrated—I’m furious. Evie took a terrible situation, and instead of helping, she made Clara and Emma both feel awful about their decision to save me in secret. Then, on top of that, she was so damn close-minded that shewouldn’t let anybody explain that Clara isn’t cheating on me. She couldn’t be, not when I’m the one who’s been pushing her toward my friends from the beginning.
Why wouldn’t she just listen? It makes no sense. Not so long ago, her relationship with Emma would have been just as taboo as the one Clara is having with us.
It pisses me off. And I’m not the kind of guy who gets mad easily. But Evie’s managed the impossible. And for once, I will not be the one begging for forgiveness. This time, it’s up to her to take the lion’s share of the blame.
Fluffington butts his head against my idle hand with a mew, and I stroke down his body, the motion full of more pain than I’m familiar with, my breath shallow as my diaphragm tries to figure out how to function around the slowly dissolving stitches keeping it in one piece. I pick up the Poloroid camera and click a photo of him curled up next to me, adding it to the growing pile of ‘positive moments’ I’ve collected.
Getting shot sucks.
I flip through my notebook, epic cat walls decorating page after page. “These are for you,” I tell him, and he purrs like he understands. “I know it’s been boring since we got back to Minnesota, but I promise I’ll try to make things more exciting for you going forward. Especially now that you’re mine.”
He turns, giving me a cat butt to scratch, but I don’t mind. He’s been the best listener during my bed rest. “Maybe I should start a cat wall business. Once I can move again, of course.”
I flick through a few pages, forcing my lungs to move smoothly from in to out. “Or maybe I should get this placeready for tenants. If I’m stuck here, the least I could do is fix up the drywall.”
Fluffington trots to the window, his tail brushing my new lime tree before he hops up on the box Emma left there for his birdwatching. “You’re right. I don’t know how to hang drywall, but I could learn. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do besides watch tutorials.”
Channeling my inner Clara, I scratch out a list of broken things in the house that Emma’s complained about, then rank them in order of importance. Carefully rolling to my side, I take a sip of water before flopping back with a groan. I cross out that ranking and instead order them from least physically demanding to most physically demanding.
Then, because I’ve only got a little more than a month before I need to climb buildings again, I force my screaming body upright and shuffle to the bathroom, one hand on the wall the whole way.
Once I’m back on my mattress, I make another list—a plan to get my strength back. Not just my body, either. My mind caused this. I’ve got to get that sorted too. The prescription bottles and Ziplock bags of antibiotics and painkillers that my body seems to metabolize weirdly, like it does everything, stare back at me. “I hear you. You’re on the list,” I say, knowing I sound crazy. But it’s just the silence and the boredom that make me weird. Probably.
I’ll keep taking everything I’ve been prescribed, and I saved the emergency number for the clinic as one of my favorites, just in case. Just for now.
Picking up my phone, I check the message board for anything from Clara and find nothing new there. Disappointed,I look up a video on how to switch out light plates, but it doesn’t hold my attention. “We planned for this, didn’t we, Fluffington? We knew it’d be months. Of course there will be weeks when we get nothing from them. I shouldn’t worry, right?”
The cat ignores me.
