Page 268 of Mad Girl

Michael pushed his fingers through my still-damp hair, staring straight ahead. “I noticed that, too.”

My eyelids fluttered, too heavy, so I closed them, letting myself be lulled by Michael’s fingertips, still working across my scalp.

Sometime later, your voice roused me. It sounded like you were talking from my doorway. “Is she okay?”

I kept my eyes closed.

“She’s asleep,” Michael said quietly. “What’s with the Johnnie Walker? I see it in there on the bathroom counter.”

“She must’ve snatched it this morning,” you said, “when she finally came out of her room.”

“How long was she in here?”

“A day and a half.” Your voice, much closer. The clink of something on the nightstand. “She needs to eat.”

“You left her in here for a day and a half, Casey?”

“I tried checking on her, but Nic wouldn’t let me. He said she was doing it to get back at him.”

“Nic knows better than to leave her alone. What if she’d been up here…harming herself?”

“I checked her last night,” you said, “after Nic went to bed. Sat with her for thirty minutes. Looked her over for bruises or marks. She hasn’t hurt herself.”

I flushed at the thought of your eyes wandering over my half-naked body while I slept. I’d only worn a flimsy white camisole and underwear to bed.

“They’re down there talking to Nic about sending her to Arizona,” you added.

“He won’t send her.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because he can’t leave her for more than a couple of days. In case you haven’t noticed, he has weird attachment issues where Elliot’s concerned.”

“Because he’s never left her all alone?”

“Well—that, too,” Michael said. “But when I was little? Maybe seven or eight? I saw Nic flip out with my parents over leaving her with Eleanor overnight once. They were supposed to go somewhere—New York, maybe. My parents were ready to go, and Nic was supposed to go with them. But Eleanor called and I could hear Elliot in the background, crying for her dad. Nic freaked out, told them he didn’t want to go anymore, said he couldn’t leave her. I only remember this because it was the first time I ever saw Nic, like, break down over something. My parents were trying to convince him she’d be fine, but he got emotional with them and stormed out of our house. A few years later, she ran off at that Red Sox game, and she’s right—Nic got worked up over it, and so did my parents. They pulled us out of school the next day and we all went to the Cape for a couple of weeks, even though it was freezing cold out. Nic was a wreck the whole time. He never left Elliot’s side. He made her sleep in his room.”

“But he seemed pretty determined to send her to that treatment place over the summer,” you said.

“I’m telling you, dude. He might’ve taken her there, but she never would’ve made it out of the car. He can’t let go. That’s why my mom is always on his case. She thinks he needs to do something—before it’s too late.”

“Nic got angry with your mum down there—for comparing Elliot to Victoria.”

“Good. He should be angry with my mom. She should never have compared Elliot to that awful woman.”

“Do you think your mum’s right? About Elliot needing that kind of help?”

“I don’t know what’s best for her. But her mom abandoning her as a baby? Nic never leaving her alone? All the adults down there sidestepping questions about Elliot’s mother her whole life? All the lying? That fucks with a person.”

You guys went silent for a while. Then Michael brushed a strand of hair off my forehead and said, “What were you doing with her on Halloween night?”

A heavy pause. “What do you mean?”

“You were on the couch with her that next morning, Casey, wearing the same clothes you wore at brunch.”

“We fell asleep watching a movie.”

“On the same couch?”