Page 46 of Vicious Little Snakes
My shoulders lift as her hand finally drifts away from mine. She looks around at all the raised beds, labeled with colorful signs, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Thank you for bringing me out here. I’d say you’re a good friend, but that’s only for today.”
The pit in my stomach roils because now that I’ve told her the truth, I hate myself a little.
She starts walking around the garden, so I follow her, just a few steps behind, watching her, but not speaking.
“Have you always been too chicken to be yourself?” she questions, pressing a finger to the dirt in a section labeled rutabaga.
The way she says it like she’s not judging me, instead just making an observation, makes my feet stop moving. I’ve never really thought about it that way. Sometimes I choose not to say things because I know people will be displeased. Other times, I say what I know people want to hear. Mostly, I keep all my thoughts to myself—especially the ones that make me less of what I’m expected to be.
I ignore her question for one of my own. “Do you always talk like this?”
Her head swings back to mine. “Like what? Honestly?”
“Grown-up,” I answer with a grin.
She shrugs and brushes her hands together, ridding them of the dirt.
“Not sure if you noticed, but I don’t have a lot of friends, Liam. My nanny, the butler, the driver—those are my peeps.”
I laugh as she sayspeeps, looking over what looks like cabbage. “Never say ‘peeps’ again.”
“Deal.”
I’m still following her, but we’re not really looking at each other as we explore the garden. Seconds feel like minutes as we say nothing, so I fill the silence, wanting to hear more of her voice.
“Yeah, it’s hard.” She glances up at me, confused. “I mean, yes, being myself is hard. There are so many rules and expectations.”
She tosses a leaf at me. “Rules and expectations? You realize following those is the complete opposite of being yourself.”
“I guess,” I answer, leaning down, sniffing a plant, and jerk back. “Gross. That’s disgusting.”
Caroline laughs, walking around the box to face me. I scrunch my nose, staring at her, thinking but not speaking.
“You’re doing it again, Liam. Just speak. We never even happened today, remember?”
What if I want to remember it? Forever.
I’m not saying that, so I opt for my first thought. “Be honest. Why were you in the office?”
Caroline curls her finger for me to meet her where she stands. So I do. She takes a deep breath, straightening her shoulders, and looks up at me.
“First, I never lie, not really. Second, I was in the office because I cut myself in the bathroom, and I was bleeding.”
My eyes widen. “Whoa. Does it hurt? Can I see it?”
She pats my head. “Down, boy. I swear to God—you’re so innocent. I cut myself, Liam.”
“What?” I laugh, but the expression on her face is serious, so I stop. I’m trying to connect the dots. She cut herself, so what? The more I look at her face, the less it gives away, so I ask another question.
“How did it happen?”
Her lips purse before she speaks.
“It happened because I did it on purpose, and I accidentally made it too deep.”
“Why would you do that?”
