His voice was oddly accusing. And he was right, now I could see it. It had been so long since she’d had one. I’d forgotten the way the headaches made her mouth slacken, made the muscles around her eyes twitch. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s fine. I already called Fee.”
Fee was her best friend, basically her sister. Whenever my mom got one of her rare migraines, Aunt Fee brought over the gnarly vinegar brew they took instead of actual medicine.
“That’s not what I’m…” He cut himself off, stepping away from her. “You know what, never mind. You’ll do what you’re gonna do.”
He kissed the side of my head. “We’ll talk more later. I’m heading out for a ride.”
When the front door had shut behind him, I looked at her. “Is Dad mad at you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said shortly. “I’m heading upstairs.”
“Mom. Wait.”
I was getting greedy, I think. Having her wait up for me, punish me, give more than half a shit about my choice of boyfriend. It made me want more from her. I just wasn’t sure what.
“Last night, when I got in. You said you had a bad dream.”
She tipped her head. Not quite a nod.
I took a quick breath. “Was it about me?”
“Ivy.” Her voice was soft. Uncharacteristically so. “I shouldn’t have—it was just a dream.”
But I remembered how awake she’d looked last night, how nervy and alert, even before she’d seen my injury. “What was it about?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes fluttering shut. “Dark water, running water. And a…”
“A what?” My voice sounded faraway.
Her eyes snapped open. “Nothing.” She tried a smile. “Fee would tell me it means change. But for her that’s every dream.”
I didn’t smile back. I was seeing the girl in the woods again, crouching in the creek’s black water. “Hey, Mom,” I began, tentatively. “I—”
She shoved a finger into her eye socket. “Not now. Truly. I have to lie down.”
I let her go. Wondering like I always did what I could’ve said differently, to make her stay.
CHAPTER THREE
The suburbs
Right now
It was barely eleven and already the day was blistering bright, all the cars and mailboxes glittering in the sun. I sat on the front step, alternating sips of coffee and soupy June air. Billy Paxton’s car was still in his driveway. I’d seen it from the window. And if he happened to come out, I could thank him again. Do a better job this time.
My phone hummed in my back pocket. A text from Amina.
AHHHH check Nate’s feed IMMEDIATELY
“Oh no,” I whispered. Another text came through.
It’s not about you btw sorry!! Tell me when you’ve seen it Nate had posted less than ten minutes ago. There was his pretty, punchable face in closeup, lips parted and lids at half-mast. A piece of the Dairy Dream sign was visible over his shoulder. With its black-and-white filter the photo could’ve been a movie still.
His mouth was swollen, smeared with gunmetal blood. A bruise was rising over one eye. The caption read, You should see the other guy. The first comment was from his little brother, Luke. I hear the other guy was a parked mail truck.
I stared until my jaw started to ache. I unclenched.
Well? Did you see it?
Yeah, I texted back. I saw it.
INSTANT COMEUPPANCE, Amina replied. She’d never liked Nate. WHO RUNS INTO A PARKED MAIL TRUCK???
I didn’t reply. My phone buzzed again.
Am I being a monster? Sorry! I swear I wouldn’t be happy if he were dead. I can 90% promise you I didn’t park the mail truck.
Hahaha, I typed, then put my phone facedown on the concrete.
I touched a finger to my lip, feeling this inchworm of dread burrowing through my belly. It was unsettling, that’s all. When karma worked so clean.
I heard a sound like Yahtzee dice rattling in a cup and smiled. You could always hear my aunt’s truck before you saw it. The thing was older than me, a beater only she could drive, because there were about five tricks to making it run and one of them was prayer.
“Hey, Ivy-girl,” she called as she pulled into the drive. She climbed down with a stuffed Women & Children First tote bag over her shoulder. “Lemme see that lip.”
It was ninety degrees in the shade and still she was rocking the full Aunt Fee thing, dark lipstick and metal jewelry and that split curtain of heavy black hair. She leaned in to cup my chin, eyes narrowing, skin breathing the scent of vinegar and black tea and the chalky amber she rubbed on her wrists. “Look at that. Somebody’s got a death wish.”