Page 30 of No Capes
She died before the crash; Fox’s parents hadn’t.
“This won’t bring her back, Madeline. Nothing’s different.”
“Everything is different. Someonekilledher?” Did he not get that? I wipe my face, and the balled tissue feels too warm in my hand. “We need to talk to Arielle.”
He shifts from his spot on the bed. “We can’t.”
What?
“Arielle needs to come to us,” he explains. “Arielle and Mom had a horrible fight that night. They never got to make up, and Arielle needed time to sit with that, and now she’ll need time to sit with this.”
What?He’s only telling me this now? After years of asking him what Arielle’s problem is? “What kind of fight?”
He pauses. “I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”
My lungs burn, like I’ve inhaled sparks. “Bad enough to be a motive? Was it about Phil?”
Be careful of people who don’t seem to have enemies,Mom had told us, implying that she didn’t trust Phil. The mayor could have easily covered up an autopsy, but why would he?
“Of course not, sweetheart. Of course not.”
“Why would someone cover this up?” I demand.
My dad sits so still. “It will be okay,” he says.
People wonder what happens after you die.
There are funeral arrangements, paperwork that can last years, and loneliness that lasts even longer. If you’re lucky.
If you’re unlucky, the person you married will sit with your youngest child and say the saddestit will be okayyou’ve ever heard.
My dad stands, his forehead creased, and treads gingerly across my carpet. It’s as if he wants to comfort me, but thinks space and silence are the answer.
“I have a long day tomorrow. If you don’t want to go to school, I’ll call out for you.” He taps the door on the way out.
I’m sure Kristen has texted. Maybe Molly. Maybe even Fox.
Dark Static has the excellent sense to not come back that night.
Ten
I don’t go to school on Monday.
Eleven
The next day, torrential rain pelts the world outside my window. The dobermans frolic on their flooded lawn.
Twelve
On Wednesday, I slog into World History seconds before the first-period bell rings. Arielle canceled morning practice because of an afternoon swim meet. I plop into the desk behind Kristen.
Besides Mr. Meyers, I’m the last to arrive. The class goes quiet, except for the tick of the only working clock in the entire school. Kristen grabs my hand and squeezes it, and I yawn, plopping into the desk behind hers. The night before had been no sleep and all nightmares. Raincoat Guy-slash-Gary—my almost mugger from the night I met Dark Static—featured as the conductor of a huge locomotive coming straight at me. I woke up before finding out if I was doomed to die.
A brown napkin appears on my desk. “Here, Roberts. Got this for you.” Damian Scott Jr. holds a fat cinnamon roll with fresh swirls of powdery nutmeg. Crackly glaze flakes off when he sets it down, and I can’t tell if the love I feel in that moment is for Damian orSuper Sweets, the bakery in Capital City known for creating these legendary “Super Rolls.”Super Sweetsis nearLeague of Comics,but not near Damian’s house, and he would have had to go out of his way to get the roll before school.
Damian raps his knuckles on my chair and returns to his seat at the front of the classroom. Fox also has a cinnamon masterpiece on his desk.
Fox.
