“Steal?” Alex’s voice rises one octave.
“I was going to sayborrow. Don’t you think she’d want to document every party just for herself? That thing was practically glued to her face all second semester.”
Alex considers this. “I don’t know. Maybe. But if she did, she probably deleted them by now.” He sucks on the inside of his cheek, which he only does when he’s trying to tamp down his frustrations.
“You okay?” I ask, perching on the bed beside him.
“Yep. Just thinking about how a lot of people didn’t really like Billy.”
“Well, he was kind of a douche,” I say.
“Also means a lot of people may have wanted him gone.”
“That’s true. But only one person actually did it. And I want to find out who.”
Millie
“Holy moly, it’s packed,” Trevor whispers as we walk through the foyer of the Godwin home to sit shiva. The space is filled with people standing shoulder to shoulder, speaking in hushed tones, their faces red, from the summer heat or their own grief, I’m not sure. Trevor fiddles with the collar on his button-down, and I pull at the hem of my black skirt. Usually, it’s my most comfortable piece of clothing, but today the fabric is scratchy against my thighs, and my whole body is on fire, itchy like it’s rebelling against this entire day.
It’s been four days since Billy died, and if this were anormaldeath, Billy’s funeral would have taken place as soon as possible, as per the Jewish tradition. But because the police needed to do all of their forensic tests and analyses and whatever else happens in a murder investigation—honestly, thinking about all the details makes me want to vomit—there hasn’t been an official funeral. Not yet. Instead, we’ve all gathered at the Godwin house for the first day of shiva. By the look of it, everyone who lives on the island seems to have come to comfort the Godwins as well as eat the copious amounts of food spread out on every surface in the house.
I follow Trevor through the throngs of people until we get to theback patio. Everywhere I look, there are buffets—enormous tables full of sushi, a carving station where meat sits under a heat lamp, a make-your-own-pasta station—but the sight of everything turns my stomach.
“What do we do now?” I ask Trevor. Practically everyone we’ve ever known is here, and I can feel people staring, their eyes darting toward me as they whisper behind cupped hands. I can only imagine what they’re saying.That’s the girl who found him. Lucy’s sister. Debbie’s daughter. She should have saved him.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Act normal?” Then he shakes his head. “Dumb idea. What’s normal, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Everyone keeps staring at me.”
Trevor glances around the patio, then ducks his head toward me. “Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that so many people are here when no one really liked Billy, anyway?”
“He’sdead, Trevor.”
His neck grows pink, and his jaw tightens a bit. “I know,” he says. “I’m just saying…he was a jerk. That’s all.”
Before I can respond, my parents appear, and Mom places her hand on my elbow. “Did you pay your respects yet?” she asks.
“We just got here, Mom.”
“Go on now,” Dad says, nudging me. “You can do it.”
Trevor whispers in my ear, “I’ll come, too. Get it over with.”
Mom pretends not to hear him as she guides us over to the Godwins, who are standing in the threshold of the French doors with somber faces. Billy’s mother has a pretty blond bob and is wearing a lace black dress that covers her shoulders and flares at her hips. She looks so put-together, except her chin wobbles and she swaysfrom side to side as if she’s not quite rooted to the ground. Beside her, Mr.Godwin shakes hands and has a determined look on his face, like he’s steeling forsomething.
“We are so,sosorry,” Mom says, leaning over to give Mrs.Godwin a kiss on her cheek. “You know how much we loved Billy.”
Trevor’s elbow digs into my ribs, but I barely notice the pressure because suddenly all I can think about is the fact that I held Billy’s lifeless body in my hands. That his parents are looking at me expectantly like I might say something to comfort them, like I mightknowsomething.
But all I can muster is “I’m so sorry.”
Disappointment flashes across Mrs.Godwin’s face, and I’m thankful that Dad sticks out his hand to Mr.Godwin. “Reid,” he says, as if by saying his name, he has just uttered an entire monologue. But then he bows his head and steps back. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Mom leans forward as if that weren’t weird. “You know we and the Silvers are here for you no matter what.”
“Of course,” Mrs.Godwin says, clasping my mother’s hands in hers. “We are so lucky to have friends like you.” She then turns her gaze to me. “We know you did all you could, Millie.”
“Thank you,” I say, though no response would have felt right, and a few moments later, Trevor and I are back by the buffets, my heart starting to return to a normal rate.
