Page 97 of The Narrow

I am not.

I don’t really mean it as an insult. Grace was weak, too. She always had been. She needed me to draw her out. To teach her how to laugh and straighten her spine, to feel the weight of herself in her own feet. She taught me how to soften. How to yield to her, to love, to the possibility of something other than pain.

I ruined all of it with a careless moment, and Oster made sure I never got the chance to fix my mistake. But now I can.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Veronica says. She reaches over, takes my hand. Her skin is dry and cool.

I imagine her pinned beneath the water, gape-mouthed as a dead fish, held fast against an unyielding spar of rock. I squeeze her hand.

“I’ll have your things packed for you,” Oster says. “We’ll have a car take you into town, and you can stay at the hotel until we can arrange things with your parents.”

“Tomorrow,” I say. I make my voice small and sorrowful. I cling to Veronica’s hand. “Give me one more night with my friends, and then I’ll go. I checked the weather. It isn’t going to rain. Please.”

I didn’t check. I just know. This would not have been a night I could go wandering, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

“One night, then,” Oster says gently, suffocating in his own kindness. He wants us all to suffocate with him, wrap us in soft, downy worlds with no sharp edges to bruise. Until we can’t breathe.

They’re still talking, but not to me. They consider Eden’s part of this to be over. Neither of them understands how little of this concerns them at all. It never has. They are staring at their own reflections on the surface of the water and imagining they can see its depths. But living in the light blinds you.

It’s only looking up from the darkness that you see the true shape of things.

31

WE LEAVE MADELYNFournier and Oster still deep in conversation. Veronica tugs at my hand. Behind her eyes, I see her need for Eden to move on, move past. She won’t say it out loud. She has that much scant wisdom in her too-young bones, at least.

Girls like Veronica have only ever known infatuation and affection. Not love. The real love that lives not in your heart but in your gut and your lungs and your throat. Every part of your body wrenched violently by the impulse—the need—to be with one person. It’s an ugly, glorious thing. That’s how you know it’s real.

“I know how hard this must be,” Veronica says.

I’ll give her this: She really is worried for Eden. Even if she’s entirely wrong about what Eden needs. Eden doesn’t need protecting, walling off from all the cruel things of life. She’s met them already. They’re part of her. It’s too late to be soft; she needs to be strong. And she will be. I like her, my Eden. I like her more the longer I live in her skin, the edges of her soul bleeding into mine.She’s kind, which I’ve never been. But she hides the best parts of herself, afraid to be seen, to take up space.

We would be good for each other, I think, if I let her rush into me, let myself rush into her. But we can’t survive like that. It’s foolish to think I could reclaim the life stolen from me.

All I have left to claim is death, but it will be on my terms.

In Westmore, Ruth and Zoya are sitting on the couch. Zoya is folded up like some exotic insect. I picture her pinned to a card—and a ripple of guilt goes through me. Self-reproach.

Eden’s good influence. I stiffen, mapping the edges of myself. Still whole. Still me. Eden is still only the shadows at the back of my mind.

“So how did it go?” Ruth asks, and another image flashes through my mind—a memory this time. Ruth throwing a piece of popcorn, catching it in her mouth.Ten in a row. You owe me a kiss.

I jerk, startled. I didn’t know Ruth and Eden were ever together. But Ruth left her. Was with a boy until only a little while ago.

I told Grace that if she ever left me for a man, it would be the worst thing she could do to me. A humiliation and a betrayal. But Eden doesn’t seem to care about that part.

Veronica is explaining the agreement. I stand like a lump, not sure what expression Eden should wear right now. Weary defeat, maybe. I glance at the window. A long time to sundown, and I’ll need the darkness for what I want to do.

“I’m going to bed,” I declare.

“Wait,” Veronica says, snatching at my hand. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

I’m not.Eden is plenty of company.But I only split my mouth into a tired smile. “I know you’re trying to take care of me, Veronica. But I feel like shit, and I just want to hide under the covers until this all goes away.”

“You said you wanted to spend one last night with us,” Veronica reminds me.

“Well, I lied,” I snap.

Veronica flinches. Zoya shifts, concern knitting her brow.

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