I leave Harriet, go back inside the house, and to the stairs. I feel as though I have double vision. Every step is overlayed by the image of a staircase I climbed in my memories. My stomach is twisting and my chest is tightening and my heart is slamming against my chest in more and more insistent thuds.

It’s quiet. Florence asked people not to come up here, and people have respected that. But Danni’s never been one to stay outof off-limits rooms as long as I’ve known her. Theodore lingers back at the beginning of the hallway, and it doesn’t occur to me to ask him to stay close. I’m barely able to form a coherent thought.

The room is only dimly lit when I open the door. A bedside lamp is on, illuminating the prone body on the bed. She’s on her back, her eyes closed, one hand resting near her cheek.

The room tips sideways, and I truly think I’m about to lose consciousness. And I welcome it, because I cannot do this. I can’t. No.

Then her eyes open, and for a moment my confused brain won’t accept it, because how many times have I replayed this scene in my mind, willing Oscar’s eyes to open?

“Rose,” Danni moans, and it spurs me into movement. I fly to her side, and pull her into a sitting position.

“Hey, hey,” I say. Her head lolls to the side, and she surveys me through heavily lidded eyes. “Stay with me. What did you take?”

She makes a face. “Put me back down,” she slurs. “My head.”

“Danni, focus. Did you take something?”

“No.” She flops forward now, and I catch her so she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her head leaning against my chest. “I don’t steal. Wait, I stole vodka. And wine.”

It takes me a beat longer than I’d like to admit to understand what she means. “Drugs,” I say. “Did you take anything?”

“No.”

“Did you leave your drink somewhere?”

Is that what Harriet meant? Did she know something? See something? Why didn’t I force her to come with me? Why didn’t I interrogate her further?

“I drank up here,” Danni grumbles into my chest. “I had Eleanor’s vodka.”

That’s when I notice the mostly empty bottle on the bedside table. Myriad emotions knock me sideways. She hasn’t taken anything. She isn’t overdosing. She’s just awfully drunk. Still not ideal, but not an emergency. Not right now. Not while she’s conscious, and holding a lucid conversation.

Danni lifts her head. “You’re shaking.”

I am, I realize. I can’t control it. My fingertips, my arms, my teeth,my core. There’s a silent scream settled in the back of my throat, pushing to be let out. I clamp my mouth shut to trap it, and then place a trembling hand over my lips. The room’s tilting and spinning, around and around, and I’m about to burst out of my skin. I’m in danger of collapsing under the weight of what I thought was happening, and I can’t shove it down. It’s not working. The more I try to control my breathing, the faster it gets, until I’m panting.

“Rose?” Danni asks, and I try to focus for her.

“What were you doing up here?” I ask. My teeth chatter as I speak, but I force the words out successfully. “Drinking alone?”

Danni shakes her head, then gestures vaguely behind her. On the bed is her phone, and the screen isn’t black. It’s in the middle of a video call with Rachel, who I recognize from Danni’s photos. “I was drinking with Rachel,” she says. “Except she’s drinking soda.”

That’s why I couldn’t reach her.

Suddenly, her shoulders tense. “Oh. Oh no,” she says.

“What?”

“I just remembered why I came here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’mreally,really sorry.”

“What?” I demand, my voice near shouting-level. “What happened?”

“I… I was talking to Harriet.”

“And?”

Shedidtake something. And now it’s Russian roulette from here, isn’t it?

“And… I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I didn’t want to. But we kissed.”