Page 71 of The Narrow

“Have you...?” Our voices overlap, and we break into another nervous laugh.

“When would I have had the chance?” she asks.

“I thought maybe you and Aubrey,” I say.

“Entirely platonic,” she tells me. She rolls to the side, dropping onto the bed beside me and wriggling up until she’s tucked under my good arm. “Is it okay if we don’t go any further?”

“Totally okay,” I assure her. My heart rate slows down, and now I sink into the bliss of just having her here, next to me. “I don’t know if I’m ready to do more, either. Even without a broken arm.”

“I hate him for what he did to you,” Del says.

“Please don’t say that,” I tell her, turning my face away.

“Why not? Don’t you hate him?”

“Dylan isn’t the one who broke my arm,” I say. I still can’t look at her. I stare at the ceiling instead.

“Luke.” She says the word tonelessly.

“I didn’t lie to you,” I say.

She is quiet; I imagine her playing over the things I’ve said, searching for the moment I misled her. “It would be okay if you did,” she says at last. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I would.” My eyes sting. I shut them. “It was my fault. If I’d just shut up, everything would have been fine. Dylan was leaving. But I was just so angry. And Luke was terrified about me telling. It was the worst thing I could have said. He snapped. He was horrified afterward. He took care of me. Got me to bed. He didn’t mean to do it. Dylan’s the one who wrecked things in the first place. Dylan’s the reason he was on drugs, that he got arrested at all.”

“And Luke’s the one that hurt you,” Del says.

“I can’t,” I whisper. I can’t start hating him, because if I do, I’ll never stop. And it won’t end with Luke. If I hate Luke, then how must I feel about the parents who have chosen him over me again and again? And if I hate him, do I have to hate the brother who was so good at making me laugh, who helped me build a blanket fort that covered half the house and strung it with fairy lights?

“I think I understand,” Del says. Her fingertips trail up the inside of my forearm. “You don’t have to hate him, Eden. But you have to protect yourself. He can’t hurt you again. You have to do whatever you need to so that doesn’t happen again.”

“I know,” I say. “I know I can’t go back. But I can’t stay hereforever, either.” As I say the words, I realize what they mean. I can’t stay forever, and she has to. I look at her with an apology in my eyes, but she only kisses my shoulder.

“Eden? Can you promise me something?”

“Of course,” I say. “Anything.”

“Remember me?” she says.

I stiffen, craning my neck to look at her.

She traces a fingertip along my clavicle, not meeting my eye. “You’re going to graduate and leave and move on, and I’ll still be here. I can’t ask you to stay with me, but if you could visit, sometimes, if you could call me...”

“Del,” I chide softly. “You’re not going to be stuck here forever. Whatever this is that’s happening to you, we’re going to fix it. And even if you did have to live here your whole life, I could never forget you. And I won’t leave you.”

She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. “I have this horrible feeling like I know what’s going to happen. That we won’t be able to stay together. For so long, I’ve thought my only options were to be alone or to drown, and then here you are. You’re here, and for the first time, I can breathe. But it won’t last.”

There are tears running down her cheeks. I don’t know what to say. I can only hold her close as she shakes, crying silently. Her body is slender against mine, and cold, and I wish I could promise to hold on to her forever.

I wish I could tell her that she’s wrong and everything will be okay.

But I promised not to lie.

24

THE SUMMONS COMESthe next day, pulling me out of third period. I walk to the administrative building with trepidation. All the message says is that Dean Oster wants to speak with me.

My mind races as I cross the campus, wondering what he knows—about Maeve, about what we were doing, about any of it. His secretary is at her desk outside his office; she ushers me inside immediately.

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