Page 15 of Where the Darkness Goes

He blinks, releasing the pillow and swiping his fingers over his lips. “I don’t. I just thought you should tell your brother. So he can…look out for you, or whatever.”

I take a step away from him, shaking my head to clear the fog. Whatever that was, it was weird.Why is he looking at me like that?“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much. Where’s your party, anyway?”

“My house. Well, the guest house, actually,” he says, bobbing his eyebrows before he scratches at the place in between them. “Anyway, it’s super low key. No gifts or anything like that.” He scowls. “But if you want to come, cool. If you want to bring someone, go for it. If not, no biggie.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Cool. Just, um, let me know. If you want.”

“Sure.”

“I’m really sorry about Amber, too.” He pats the doorframe. “It sucks.”

“Yeah.” Like me, he doesn’t seem to know what to say about the situation. Any way you phrase it, it doesn’t feel like enough. Neither of us is equipped to deal with anything of this magnitude.

Without waiting for me to get out of my thoughts and say something else, he moves back into the hall, and with that final, familiar look that tricks me into thinking he’s going to say more, he’s gone.

CHAPTER EIGHT

GARRETT — AGE 18

By the time my party rolls around on Friday, the news of Amber’s death has hit every corner of our town. Rumors range from a wild party gone wrong to an attempted kidnapping to a murder-suicide pact, but I think that last one is because the drama club just put on Romeo and Juliet, and the play is fresh in everyone’s mind.

The air around the school went from being charged with sadness, to worry and fear, and now, only a few days later, it’s nearly forgotten. We had a memorial for her at school where her friends said some nice words, and they had a photo of her blown up and placed on a poster for a week, but that’s basically been it.

I’m not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, there was a moment when I worried my party was going to have to be canceled, and that would suck. But on the other, two people literallydied—people most of us have known our whole lives—and we’re all at a party.

So…that kind of sucks, too.

I’ve never known anyone who died, strange as that is. My parents are alive, and their parents are alive. I knock on the wall next to me to ward off any jinxes over the thought and catch astrange look from Will, but I shrug him off, pretending what I just did is normal.

Mom and Dad zip into the room. He’s a few feet in front of her, as always. It’s not that he walks in front because he has to be in charge or anything weird like that, he just always moves like he’s in a hurry, and my mom couldn’t be bothered to hurry on her best day.

Mom’s eyes scan the room, looking pleased. “Well, how’s everything—” Just then, a soccer ball zips through the air. Dad’s hands shoot out to the side, and he lunges, catching it seconds before it smashes into a family photo on the wall.

I have no doubt who the culprits are, but it takes several seconds for them to appear, looking guilty as sin as Dad waits with his hand on his hip. Their eyes are wide as they peek up from the ground, dark brows drawn together. They’re three years apart, but they may as well be carbon copies of each other.

“Henry, Isaiah.” Mom scolds my brothers, crossing her arms. “You boys were told to wait at the house with your sister. Where is she?”

“Mo-om,” Henry whines, displaying his missing front teeth. “We just wanted to see the party. Why does Garrett get to have all the fun?”

“Because we love him the most, obviously,” Dad teases, to which both brothers just groan. Henry slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Jenny’s always on the phone with herboyfriend,” Isaiah says, singing the last word in a disgusted voice. “And, as the fourth oldest—who is nowofficiallyin double-digits, I might add—with Corbin at practice and Jenny on the phone and Garrett at his party, doesn’t that make me in charge?”

“It doesn’t while your older siblings are still in the house.” With a sigh, Dad puts one hand on Henry’s shoulder and the other hand on Isaiah’s shoulder, then looks at me. I alreadyknow what he’s going to say before he says it. Frankly, I’m shocked it took this long. “Sorry, Gare. I’m going to have to take these two knuckleheads home. Think you can handle the party without your boring ol’ dad?”

I nod, not expecting any less. “Yeah, sure.”

“No drinking, no drugs,” Dad warns, his tone teasing. “Your body is a temple and all that jazz.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I can’t help laughing with him, even when I’m disappointed.

Dad turns his attention back to my brothers, leading them through the crowded room. “Where is your baby sister? Did you leave her in her playpen?”

“Jenny was with her,” Henry says.

When they’ve fully disappeared in the sea of my friends, I look back at Mom. Her lips are pinched together. “I’m sorry, bud. I know little brothers sometimes ruin all the fun.”

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