Page 145 of Not Quite Dead Yet

‘Billy, I –’

‘– I’m sorry, I can’t.’

He turned, boots scraping against the stone, out of the drive, into the street.

He walked away.

Didn’t look back.

‘Billy!’ Jet called after him, the wind in the trees mocking her, stealing her voice.

‘You shouldn’t have told Luke,’ Sophia said darkly. ‘No consequences, huh, Jet?’

Jet shoved Sophia, grabbed a handful of her coat.

Wanted to scream in her face, wanted to hit her, wanted to take all her hurt out on her, and Billy’s too. But she said something she hoped would cut deeper, carve a hole through Sophia’s chest, like she’d done to her.

‘I hope you’re always this unhappy,’ she whispered, staring through Sophia’s dark eyes, not blinking, so she knew that she meant it too.

Jet let her go and walked away, onto the street. She wouldn’t waste any more seconds on Sophia; those seconds, those minutes, those hours were for someone else.

‘Billy!’ Jet shouted, following him down the street.

He was far up ahead, moving too fast, already on the main road.

‘Billy, wait!’

He couldn’t hear her, or he didn’t want to, moving even faster, losing his edges as Jet’s eyes swam, sliced the world into two uneven halves.

Jet wouldn’t let it all fall apart. She leaned against a tree, waited for the worst to pass, breathing through it. She lostBilly, couldn’t see him anymore, but she was not going to lose him.

She ran, down Church Street, a drumbeat in her head. It couldn’t be her heart, because that was gone, wherever that black hole had taken it. The same place as Billy’s.

Jet followed him. He must have come this way, past The Green, going home.

Not just Billy’s apartment.

Home.

There was an earthquake under the pavement that only Jet could feel, unbalancing her legs, dead arm swaying, weighing her down. She blinked her way through it. Had to catch up to Billy. Find Billy. The only thing that mattered, and this earthquake might slow her down, but it was not going to stop her.

But something else did.

A police squad car pulled up on the driveway in front of her, blocking the sidewalk. A squawk, a short burst of sound as it came to a stop, swimming in and out of Jet’s vision.

One door opened, then the other.

The police chief and Billy’s dad stepped out.

‘Jet,’ Jack Finney said, shutting his car door. ‘We need to speak to you.’

‘Not now,’ Jet sniffed. She kept moving, doubling around the car, onto the grass. ‘I have something more important.’

‘I’m afraid you have no choice,’ the chief barked, hurrying to catch up to her. He grabbed her arm, the one she couldn’t feel, pulled her back. ‘Margaret Mason, I’m arresting you on suspicion of second-degree arson. You –’

‘– What?!’ Jet hollowed out, only panic left behind, ugly and hot. ‘No, no. You’ve got it wrong. You can’t arrest me, I’m running out of time!’ She tried to pull away.

‘You have the right to remain silent –’ the chief continued.

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