We Fell Apart: A We Were Liars Novel(19)

“I said she was no doubt right and asked if she was ready to give chain saw lessons,” says Brock. “Then she asked if I did yard work and I said, nah, I’m an actor, and she said complimentary things about my physique. She was a little dirty-minded, actually.”

He’s bought a deck of cards on his outing to town. He pulls them from his pocket when we’re done eating. He wants to play a game called Mao where you don’t explain the rules to the new players. Meer and I will just have to figure it out as we play, says Brock, based on the penalties he doles out as the emcee.

“I’m going to completely fail, you know,” says Meer. “I literally can play war and go fish. That’s it.”

“Expand your horizons,” says Brock. He shoves aside the potato chip bags and deals the cards.

The rules become obvious to me pretty quickly. Jacks are wild, no talking, eights reverse play, aces skip the next player’s turn. Say “Have a nice day” when you play a seven.

“You’re freakishly competent,” Brock tells me. “Have you played this before?”

“Nah. But my brain is good like that.”

“I’m so confused,” moans Meer.

“Penalty for talking,” says Brock.

“Matilda talked,” says Meer.

“Penalty to Matilda, too.”

“I’m sorry I told you to shut up,” I say.

“Penalty for talking, again,” says Brock. “But that’s okay.”



* * *



—

Later, Meer walks me to the edge of the cliff, near where the staircase leads to the beach.

“You can see Beechwood Island from here,” he says, pointing. “It’s far, but you can. See?”

The setting sun is nearly at the horizon line. I can only make out a vague shape in the distance.

“The Gazette said the Sinclairs have a bunch of houses there,” Meer continues, “but the big one, the main house—that’s the one that burned.”

“People died, right?”

“They were a little younger than us.”

“Did you know them?”

“No. Two were in the family, cousins. And one was a friend of theirs. I got the names from the article: Mirren Sheffield, Jonathan Dennis, and Gatwick Patil.” Meer’s somber look changes to mischief. “Brock and I are going over there tonight. And Tatum’s coming, too.”

“To Beechwood Island?”

“Mm-hm. You should come. We have a boat docked in Menemsha.”

“Why?”

“Just to explore. I want to see it. Don’t you? I’ve never seen a burned building.”

“I’ve seen them on TV.”

“I don’t really watch TV. And anyway, it’ll be different in real life.” He turns away from me. “But don’t come if you’re like, scared or anything.” He says it like a kid in a cartoon, a silly imitation of peer pressure.

Thing is, I am scared. We’d be trespassing on a private island belonging to a powerful rich man, walking around in the ruins of a building where people just died.

But Meer bites his lip when he’s thinking. He didn’t fit in at school. He keeps a sketchbook full of ideas. He has a wildness inside him that doesn’t know where to go, most of the time.

Like me. Like me.

“Count me in,” I say.

“Good,” says Meer. “Meet in the garage at eleven.”

Just then Tatum begins to climb the stairs that lead up from the beach. He is dripping wet, a boogie board under one arm, dressed only in board shorts. His shoulders gleam in the light like they’re made of liquid metal.

Meer runs down to meet him “My sister’s here,” he says, his voice low.

“I met her.” Tatum speaks low, too, but I can still hear them.

“Won’t you come hang out?”

“I need a shower. Haven’t eaten.” Tatum shakes his head.

“She’s wonderful,” says Meer. “She has this way about her, like she could conquer things. Like her mind is always going. But also, she fainted. It’s like a dream came to life, you know? She’s the sister I used to imagine, when I didn’t have anyone to play with, before you came. Only she’s real.”

“Is she asking a lot of questions?”

“What? No. Well, yes, actually. But I’m not hiding anything from her, so it doesn’t matter.”

“We talked about this. You know what I think. I’m not going over it all again.”

“You’re going to change your mind when you get to know her because you’ll see,” says Meer. “We’re blood relations. That’s not the only kind of family, but it means something. She has my same nose, I think? Like Kingsley’s.”

“Later,” says Tatum.

“But, Tatum,” says Meer. “I want you to—”

“I’m really tired,” says Tatum. He goes past Meer up the rest of the staircase. But he has to pass me, standing near the top of the steps, in order to get to the castle.

“Maybe you should have some ginseng,” I say. “To improve your energy.”

He doesn’t answer.





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